Page 58 of Fake for 7 days

"Here we are," Carter interrupted my thoughts and stopped in front of the entrance of a very upscale-looking hotel. Thankfully, it wasn't the hotel where I had worked until recently. "There's a very good restaurant here and we're going to eat and have a good time now."

Contentedly, I leaned back in my chair nearly an hour later. The restaurant was indeed excellent. I had rarely eaten so well. A shrimp cocktail salad with tomatoes, avocado, green salad, and nuts for starters, and for the main course, a roulade with pesto, bacon, and sugar snap peas, along with some homemade potato gratin.

"Dessert?" Carter inquired, while I surveyed my surroundings for surely the tenth time. Floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto one of Manhattan's quieter streets. Since we were sitting on the first floor, I had the impression of being a little above the action outside while still being able to follow everything closely. Inside, there was subtle lighting with warm light, comfortable chairs with light gray leather upholstery, and beautiful decor with light pink artificial flowers. I stored everything in my memory. Who knows, maybe one day I would have my boutique hotel and then I could find inspiration in my memories.

"Thank you," I smiled at Carter now. "I'd love to have dessert. But I don't think my stomach is big enough for it."

Carter grinned. "That's a nice way of putting it."

I was just about to reply when we were interrupted by loud scolding from the next table. Involuntarily, I turned around. An older lady with particularly chic clothing, too much makeup, three thick necklaces, and purple hair was hissing at the waitress: "I've never eaten anything like this! You don't seriously think I'm going to pay for this, do you?"

"You could have complained right away," the waitress replied calmly. "But as I can see, you've eaten everything. So the food couldn't have been that bad." With these words, she pointed to the lady's empty plate.

"I only ate that out of politeness," the lady retorted. "But I won't be paying." She leaned on her dark wooden walking stick and rose from her chair with surprising agility. "Tell your cook he needs to learn how to cook properly first. The meat was far from well-done."

"It was cooked exactly as you requested." The waitress remained calm. I watched her with sympathy. I really wouldn't have wanted to be in her shoes. Did Hayley have to deal with such things in her job too? I hoped she was spared from insults and complaints, or at least didn't have to endure them too often. Eating something and then refusing to pay was truly the lowest of the low. Especially since the lady, judging by her appearance, certainly had more than enough money!

Undeterred, the woman now pushed past the waitress, using her cane to make way. At that moment, Carter stood up and blocked her path.

"Get out of my way, young man. I need to get through," the woman snapped.

"First, you need to pay," Carter reprimanded the woman. "Then you can go wherever you want. You ate here, so you pay. If you're not satisfied with the quality, you can certainly complain. But that doesn't give you the right to skip out on the bill. Besides, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the food here. I'm often a guest here, and everything is always excellent."

The waitress looked at Carter gratefully.

"Out of my way," the woman barked at Carter. But Carter didn't budge an inch and continued to eye the woman steadily.

"You're staying here until you've paid. Or until the police arrive." Carter was unyielding. The older woman with purple hair continued to stare at him, fiddling with her thick gold chains. After a while, she gave in.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked the waitress. However, in a tone that made it clear she was only paying to finally be left in peace and didn't really believe she owed anything.

Carter sat back down and signaled to the waitress. "We'll pay now too. And the food was absolutely delicious."

When the old lady had disappeared, the waitress came to our table. "I've never experienced anything like that before."

"It's outrageous," Carter agreed. "Unfortunately, people are becoming more and more brazen."

"At her age, the lady should know better. Oh well." The waitress shrugged and had obviously already mentally moved on from the incident.

As I stood up, Carter helped me into my coat and took my hand. The touch sent a warm shiver through my body.

"This is how engaged couples leave a restaurant, I've been told," he grinned.

"Surely." What did he mean by that? Was he just doing this to keep up appearances? Or did he really want to hold my hand? This man really drove me crazy time and time again. I couldn't read anything from his behavior. Or everything.

I was still thinking about Carter when we were back in his Ferrari.

"We're going to my place," Carter decided as he merged into New York traffic.

Wow. That was direct.

"I've prepared a contractual agreement that you still need to sign. It regulates the payment and your duties. One accompaniment to a charity dinner. That will be our dress rehearsal. And then my brother's wedding." At these words, Carter's brows furrowed. No wonder, given what he had told me about his relationship with his brother. Not a particularly close one, to put it mildly. Somehow, I was quite curious to meet the rest of Carter's family. What were they like? His parents? The grandmother?

"You're not saying anything. Do you feel ready?" Carter asked.

"What? Oh... yes, of course," I replied quickly.

Ready for what?

---