“I’ll be right back.” Benjamin excuses himself, before heading in the direction of the waitress.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Xavier asks me as soon as our client is out of earshot.
“I should go back to the office. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”
“Why? You’re here because I need you here. This is work, Shardonnay. There will be many occasions where your job involves more than just sitting behind a desk,” he says.
I take a deep breath. “Xavier, I can’t afford this place. It’s okay. I’ll just return to the office and see you there.”
“Shardonnay, this is work. This lunch is on the company dollar. Not mine, and certainly not yours,” he says.
“Well, technically, you own the company, so it is your dollar. And I don’t want you paying for my lunch.”
“Too fucking bad. If you want this job, you’ll order whatever the fuck you want off that menu and accept that the company will cover it.”
My mouth opens and closes. I’ve always known Xavier to be a grumpy ass, but he’s never really been so forceful or stern towards me before. Then again, I think this might just be the most we’ve ever really spoken.
“Fine, but just know I’m probably not going to enjoy their hundred-dollar steak anyway.” I know… I’m throwing a tantrumlike a child. But I can’t help it. This man seems to bring out the most unflattering parts of my personality.
“It’s three-hundred dollars actually, and you won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll enjoy it.”
My jaw drops of its own accord. A three-hundred-dollar steak? I don’t know why I’m surprised; I’ve been around the Christianson family long enough to know they all spend money like it’s literally growing in the backyard.
Xavier’s hand comes up to my face. His fingers press under my chin, closing my mouth. “If you keep this open any longer, Shardonnay, I’m going to be thinking of all the ways I can fill it.” He leans into me before adding, “And it won’t be with a piece of three-hundred-dollar sirloin.”
My face heats and I’m sure a visible blush creeps its way along my neckline. “I would bite it off,” I warn him with my eyes screwed up. As much as I want to be offended, disgusted by the image he just painted, I’m not. And that infuriates me more. I can’t stand Xavier Christianson. Sure, I’d like to ride him like a cowboy at a rodeo. But, fuck, I can’t stand his uptight, holier-than-thou personality.
“Keep telling yourself that, Shardonnay. We both know you’d love it, probably even more than I would.” He smirks.
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck in the back of my head. I’m saved from having to endure Xavier’s torturous company any longer when Benjamin returns and quickly seats himself down at the table. “Okay, so talk to me, Xavier. Where are we on this case? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, mate, it’s getting awfully close to the trial date and I ain’t planning on getting locked up.”
The waitress picks this time to deliver our drinks and take our lunch orders. Xavier orders for me. I don’t bother butting in or telling him I can order my own damn food, because right now I’m too tired to bother.
The rest of lunch I spend listening to Xavier and Benjamin discuss the case and Xavier’s plans for getting him off on all charges. Apparently, there’s a plea deal on the table that neither Xavier nor Benjamin are prepared to accept. I kind of feel like I’m on an episode ofSuits, except Xavier is way better-looking than Harvey and I’m certainly no Donna.
It seems to drag on for hours. How can they have so much to discuss? Granted, I’m no law expert or anything. But from what I can gather, Benjamin was caught red-handed in a warehouse full of boxes of cocaine. How he’s claiming innocence beats me. I guess it’s not really important whether or not he’s innocent. By the sounds of it, Xavier is confident he’ll get the charges dropped. He says the warrant that was used to search Benjamin’s warehouse wasn’t entirely legal.
I don’t understand the legalese of it all, and I’m not going to try to either. There is a reason Xavier is the best defence attorney in Melbourne. I guess I’m witnessing his greatness up close. Not that I’d ever admit that to him.
My mind wanders to another way I’d like to be witnessing Xavier’s greatness up close—very, very close.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Xavier’s question draws me out of my day fantasy.
“About what?” I ask, turning to face him. We’re on our way back to the office, and I’m so full all I want to do is nap. I wonder if I can just lie down on the couch in Xavier’s office, close my eyes, and sleep off this food baby.
“The steak?”
“Oh, I’ve had better,” I lie with a shrug.
Xavier laughs. “No, you haven’t.”
“How would you know?” I ask defiantly, because there’s no way he can tell if I’ve had better steak or not.
“You have a tell, when you lie.” His lips tip up at the corners.
“I do not have a tell.”
“Yeah, you do.”