Page 56 of Scrooge

“Hmm, it probably was,” I admit. The salad I had for lunch was barely filling enough.

“So is this the kind of place you bring dates?” she asks, looking around. The lights are low, but glittery. Soft music plays, and the gentle hum of conversation hangs around the room. I look around as well, seeing people dressed up like us in more formal attire, their diamonds glistening, the sound of cutlery on plates tinkering.

“I’ve been a few times.” I don’t lie. This is where I come. Predominantly because the food is good and the staff are professional. My privacy is always ensured, and now with the small media pack constantly following us, I appreciate that more than ever.

“Benny’s mozzarella sticks and corn dogs seem a little… adolescent now,” she murmurs, frowning ever-so-slightly. I lean forward and grab her hand on the table.

“I don’t know about that. What was it that you said at the soccer game? You have never met a corn dog that you didn’t like?” I remind her, and she smiles, which was my intent. I like seeing her smile. I likemakingher smile even more. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but ever since we started this whole charade, we have been getting closer.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asks, coming to our table. I nod to Haylee to go first, interested to hear what she’ll choose.

“I’ll have the steak. Medium, please.” she says, looking at me with an adorable smile. “I need the iron,” she adds, making my lips quirk.

“And you, sir?” he asks.

“A good choice, I will do the same. And grab us a bottle of your best Pinot,” I say, thinking a red will go well with our meal.

“Certainly.” He nods, taking our menus.

“Alexander. Good to see you,” a voice sounds at my side only a few seconds later, and I see Shaun Marshall approaching. From Boston, he is one of the leaders in his field of mergers and acquisitions. I stand, shaking his hand.

“Shaun. It’s been a while.”

“It has. You remember Scarlett?” he says, indicating his wife, who stands by his side. She is glamorous, Australian, if I remember, all blond and sun-kissed.

“Of course, nice to see you again. This is my fiancée, Haylee.” It feels good to introduce her as such. Haylee stands, smiling wide, shaking their hands like the perfect companion.

“Yes, I heard congratulations are in order?” He looks at me again, smiling.

“That is a lovely ring. Congratulations,” Scarlett says to Haylee, and I watch her beam at the compliment. We make a little small talk before we spot the waiter standing nearby with our wine.

“Well, we don’t want to interrupt your meal, but let’s catch up soon. I heard you are thinking of expanding into Asia. I have some contacts I can introduce you to,” Shaun says, and I nod, knowing he is well-connected.

“That would be great,” I tell him, and they take their leave as we sit back down. Once the waiter pours two glasses of red, we’re in our private bubble once again.

“Wow, they seemed nice,” Haylee comments.

“Does that surprise you?” I ask, grabbing my wine.

“It does. I thought all people who wore suits were a bit… stiff.” She chooses her words carefully. But it is too late. My mind goes directly to my dick, feeling thicker by the second as I watch her glossy red lips smirk.

“Some of us are, some of us aren’t.” Once upon a time, I was. I still am, but I’m defrosting. Slowly. And it feels good.

“Here’s to non-stiff suits,” Haylee says with a light laugh, lifting her glass toward me, and I clink my glass to hers.

“To non-stiff suits,” I murmur, taking a sip before I place my glass down, chuckling.

“So, expanding into Asia? Expanding what, exactly?” Haylee asks, and I lean back, relaxed. We haven't talked about my work much, and I am surprised she is taking an interest.

“I’m thinking of doing some developments over there. We have a good production schedule domestically, and the European office is making great strides. Mostly in London, but Asia is a market we haven’t ventured into yet,” I explain.

“Why haven’t you before now?” she asks, and I take in a deep breath. I wait for a beat, gathering my thoughts as I watch her sip her wine, the red coating her lips. It’s hard to not get lost in the vision of her.

“My father wanted to keep everything in the United States. Even having a European office, he wasn’t a fan of. But I wore him down, and it is where I cut my teeth, so he was happy that I managed that. Now that he is gone, I want to expand on his good work domestically and take a bigger footprint globally.”

“Make him proud?” she asks, and I pause. I don’t know how she does it, but she always seems to know things.

“I guess. In a way,” I tell her honestly, feeling a little vulnerable as I play with my wineglass. “He always strived for perfection. Always had goals and worked hard to meet them. His work, the business, it meant everything to him. I just want to keep up his good work. Make it just as successful, even though he is no longer here.”

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