Page 149 of Innocent Intentions

He pulls back just enough for me to see his eyes.

“Margot Peterson, one day Margot Montclair, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

He bows dramatically. Then kisses my hand.

My heart melts.

“I’d love to,” I whisper.

He helps me up and opens the doors to the terrace.

And I freeze.

It’s stunning.

Strings of warm light hang from the ceiling. Soft music flows throughout the room. A table covered with candles, crystal glasses, real silverware, and folded napkins makes it look like we’re at some five-star rooftop restaurant.

I turn, and he’s holding roses. Beautiful, deep red ones.

He’s in a navy suit and a white button-up. Crisp, clean-shaven. Polished in a way he never is by this time of day… and I’m in yoga pants.

He smiles, waiting for my reaction.

“Matty, I don’t even know what to say. This is amazing. It’s too much.”

“No. Nothing will ever be enough for my sweet girl. But I’ll damn well try.”

He pulls out my chair, waits until I sit, then slides in across from me.

His legs find mine under the table and wrap around me. As if even now, he needs the contact.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

Chapter 64

Matthias

Margot can’t stop looking around. Her face glows with awe. Pride swells in my chest. I did a damn good job. I wanted to give her the perfect date, even if we had to stay on the property. She’ll never have a bad date again. I’ll treat her like the princess she is.

She’s still soaking it all in when David, the gate guard who let her leave and got her attacked, steps onto the terrace with a bottle of wine. He looked confused when I told him he’d be our server tonight. But considering I let him live after what happened to her, he’ll do any job I assign. Including this one. Dotty’s cooking. He’s serving.

“Good evening. I have a cabernet for you tonight.” His voice is bright, too bright. He avoids eye contact, clearly ashamed. If he knew what had happened to her, he’d be on his knees begging for her forgiveness.

He pours a taste into my glass. I swirl it, sniff it, and taste it, then nod once in approval. Not at him. At the wine. I don’t approve of him.

He fills Margot’s glass, then mine, and sets the bottle on the table.

“Dinner will be ready shortly.” He disappears quickly.

“Was that–” She starts.

“Yes. That’s the man who almost cost me you. He’s lucky to be alive. He’ll do whatever job I give him, including server. And he’ll do a damn good job. He’s fucking lucky I’m showing him mercy.”

My sweet girl, sensing my rising anger, slides her hand into mine on the table and squeezes gently. One smile from her, and the anger vanishes.

“Well, he’s doing a good job,” she says, teasing.

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