Page 19 of A Billion Dollar Romance
* * *
The restaurant he took me to was quiet and dark, with a menu all in French and a waiter that referred to him by name.
Does he take all his dates here?I wondered, between myentréeand myplat principal.It would get expensive fast, I thought, as he ordered dessert and a bottle of Champagne without looking at the menu.Ihad looked, although neither he nor the waiter–or thesommelier, I supposed–had asked for my opinion, and the bottle he’d selected was almost as much as my rent. But it certainly seemed like a typical first date. Was this how he treated all the women I’d seen him with in the magazines? Did he askthemabout their families, their career goals, what they liked to do for fun and where they liked to vacation?
Even if it wasn’t real–and even if I was just the latest in a long string of women he’d taken here–it was still the best date I’d ever had.
Savor it, Edie,I thought.The wine, the night, the glint of his eye, lit by candlelight.You’ll never date anyone who takes you out like this again.
And that was before he reached into his jacket pocket, a smile skittering across his face, and pulled out a small velvet box.
My heart stopped and started in my chest.
This isn’t real.
“Edie,” he said, and the way he looked at me, I could almost forget that it was all just a marketing ploy. I could see why he had the reputation he did. Despite myself, I felt like the only woman in the world. “I had intended to give you a ring tonight, but…”
He opened the box.
It was empty, just a padded cushion, an indentation where a diamond ring would go. Relief washed over me–and a pathetic feeling of disappointment. Since when did I want a diamond ring?
Since I started fake-dating a CEO,I thought.And not just any CEO–Professor Martin.
“This is just a stand-in,” he said, staring at me across the table. What did he see on my face? “I went to the jewelers at lunch, but…”
“Nothing was big enough for you?” I said, trying to calm my still-racing heartbeat. In the low light of the restaurant, Professor Martin’s eyes heavy on mine, it was hard to remember that this engagement was as nonexistent as this ring.
“I wasn’t sure what you would want,” he said. His voice was low, quiet enough that I found myself leaning in toward him across the table.
“Does it matter what I want?” I asked, and his eyes flashed with annoyance.
“Of course it does,” he said. “Do you think it doesn’t?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Martin,” I said, and he shook his head.
“James.”
“James,” I corrected. It must have been the wine that had me opening my foolish mouth to confess, “that feels so strange. I still think of you as Professor Martin, honestly.”
The statement hung in the air between us, the atmosphere of the restaurant suddenly stifling.
Had I said something wrong?
“Miss Taylor.” His voice was rough. He looked down at the table. “Edie,” he said, a smile twitching one corner of his mouth. “If you don’t want to do this, now is your last chance. Once the announcement goes out…”
I nodded. “I know.”
“You’re ready? Your coworkers…”
“They might think less of me for a while, but…” In six months, I’d be gone.You’re like the rest of us,Margaret had said,wanting to get away to a cabin in the woods and write.“They’ll understand, eventually.”
He nodded.
“We’ll get the ring tomorrow.”
CHAPTER11
James
