Page 28 of The Wrong Promise

“Zara,” he says gently and raises my hand, kissing the top of it. Did Jobe expect him to charm me? “I eagerly awaited meeting the lady who has tamed Jobe Hendricks. Why has he kept you a secret?”

I smile nervously and sneak a glance at Jobe. His nod is subtle. “We decided to wait a few months until it felt right to be together in public. You know how the tabloids fabricate material.”

I stare at Jobe with starry eyes. I might actually be good at this acting thing. Jobe comes to stand beside me and wraps a hand around my waist. My breath hitches, but my fake smile remains broad.

“Come darling, the staff is waiting for us.” With a hand on my lower back, Jobe pulls out my chair for me to sit and takes the seat beside me. Sir James sits on my other side.

Stop shaking. You can do this.

“My apologies for my wife’s absence. She became unwell today and decided to rest in bed,” Sir James shares, leaving me as the only female at the corporate business world table.

Fun.

The server comes to take our order, and I casually ask for a bottle of Dom Pérignon Oenotheque Champagne Rose, as though it’s my choice of drink every day. The men order expensive red wine, except for Jobe. He sticks with his favorite whiskey.

In silence, we peruse the menu for a few minutes, and I notice there is barely any noise coming from the other tables.

I must not drop my cutlery on the floor or even on my plate for that matter.

I repeat it in my head because there’s a high probability I will and bring attention to our table. Jobe leans close. “Order the seafood. It’s also Sir James’ favorite,” he whispers.

His breath dusts my neck, and I tilt my head toward him. One little tickle leaves me wanting to be closer to him.Focus.I see what he’s doing, and I’ll follow Sir James’ lead. He needs to trust me.

Leaving the menu partially on the table, I decide on a few dishes that caught my eye last night. Jobe was right in dining here last night as I’m not as uncomfortable being here a second time.

When the server arrives, Sir James orders first. If it’s a hierarchy of importance, then I assume I’m to order last. When Sir James finishes, everyone looks at me.

“And the lady?” the server asks.

“Oh.” Sir James ordered the steak—the most expensive one on the menu. “I’ll have the same as Sir James, please.” I smile at Sir James and catch Jobe’s shocked expression in the corner of my eye. I know it’s not about the cost but the fact I deliberately defied his advice.

Well, buckle up, Hendricks, because I got this. After a couple of glasses of Dom, I’ll be nominated for an Oscar.

“How is Rachel?” Jobe asks Harrison.

“Doing better. Four weeks until our son arrives.” He smiles at us and then looks at his father, who isn’t paying attention. Sir James is having a quiet conversation with Clive.

“You know it’s a boy?” I pipe up and hope I’m not overstepping a line.

“Yes. After two very loud girls, it will be nice not to be the only male in the house.”

I laugh. “Yes, girls are not quiet. How old are your daughters?”

“Four and nine. Although Phillipa, the oldest, acts as though she is going on nineteen.”

I laugh again. “Girls always want to be older than their age. Do you have any photos?” His eyes dance with delight as he hands his cell to me. “Oh, they are beautiful. You must be very proud.”

“I am. They keep me on my toes for sure.”

I rest a hand on Jobe’s thigh, and he leans into the back of his chair as though he can finally relax.

I smile at Harrison. “I can’t wait to have children. All my life, I’ve wanted twins.”

Jobe subtly coughs up a mouthful of whiskey and tenses beside me.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Suddenly, Sir James is interested in our conversation.

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