Page 30 of The Last Call
She takes a long sip of her chardonnay. Admitting defeat without any words.
“Glad we got that all worked out.” I tip my head to her out of respect for our new accord and allow the good humor to linger while we enjoy our drinks. Before I see if I can make her even happier with me. After a long minute, I transition into work mode and slide out my phone so I can show her the project I have in mind. “I have a business proposal for you.”
Her answer is another carefree laugh. She thinks she knows me and what I’m implying but I’m about to prove her wrong. Very and happily wrong.
“Aseriousbusiness proposal for you.” I angle the screen so she can see the images I’ve pulled up. “We just closed on this abandoned Victorian that I’m going to turn into the first of many in a chain of luxury B & Bs. Both the interior and exterior are trashed but the bones are good. I’d like you to be the project manager in charge of the interior design and ensuring we meet all the historic codes for the neighborhood. I don’t want any hassles with the preservation committee.”
Despite the booze flushing her cheeks, pure shock radiates from her face. “Me?”
I love her little squeaky voice when I’ve surprised her in a good way. “Yes, you. That’s what you earned your degree in, isn’t it? I’ve reviewed your portfolio and your designs were raw but really good. Your grades were excellent until right before you graduated.”
All the pleasure on her face evaporates from my last comment. One of the many things I’m curious to discover about her are the C’s and D’s on her transcript after the straight A’s she earned until her final year. Her head falls forward. Ensuring her ebony hair shields her expression from me. A trick I’ve quickly learned she likes to use to hide from the truth she wants to avoid. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
An automatic response that rolls off her luscious lips too quickly and easily. “Bullshit.”
She flinches from my response and smooths down the unwrinkled tablecloth with jerky movements. Flustered from a very simple question.
“Too much partying I guess. Senioritis you know.” Scooting back her chair, she thinks she’s dismissed and this conversation is over. Not by a long shot. “Anyway, I’m ready to go and–.”
“Sit.” That direct order gets her to finally look at me. With complete and utter disgust. Her glossy lips pursing in preparation of tearing into me. I can’t let her secrets ruin our discussion, so I let her lie be for now. We have plenty of time, our whole lives actually, for me to discover the truth. “It’ll be ready to kick off in about two weeks. We should be home by then and I can walk you through the house.”
Anticipation forces her to obey me, and she sinks back into her seat. Wide eyes searching mine. Checking for any signs of deception. Any indication of duplicity. “You’re taking me home?”
I tap the screen again and shove my cell back into my pocket. “As long as you behave…”
“You just can’t stop being an asshole can you?”
This time I laugh. She knows me already. “So, do you want the job or not?”
“You really want me to do this?”
Doubt pulses in her tone and her expression. That I hate. She should be as confident in her design skills as she was in her escort business. Because although her books and records were shit, her strategy and profit were top notch. I smooth away any signs of my prior smirk. I want her to know, to understand, to fucking believe how damn serious I am about her and her talents. “If I didn’t want you to do it, I wouldn’t offer it to you. I’d be satisfied with just fucking you if I didn’t think you weren’t capable of doing the job.”
Crude, I know. But it’s the truth. The damn proof is sitting right in front of me from her and Nonna’s shopping trip this afternoon. The sheer black tuxedo jacket paired with hot pink skinny jeans that would look idiotic on anyone else looks absolutely fucking stunning on her. “You have a good eye. A gift for putting together what works. That’s what first caught my attention the night we met.”
A blush as bright as her pants beams on her face from my compliment. “Thank you…for believing in me.” Her soft voice falls even lower. “No one ever has before.”
I push a little bit now that a crack weakens the shield she uses to protect herself with. “They should have. Then you wouldn’t have ended up working for Belle’s.”
She doesn’t seem surprised that I know the name of the agency that hired her before she graduated. Only nods.
“Didn’t your parents protest? Surely they tried to stop you.”
“They didn’t know. We had…” She shakes her head. Keeping her gaze averted. So much she attempts to hide. “We had a falling out when I was in school and we didn’t—we don’t speak anymore.”
“Idiots to let you go. Nothing’s more important than family.”
No response. Only another long drink with her eyes closed. Shutting down on me and our conversation. Which isn’t what I wanted. I give her an out for now and signal the waiter. The older gentleman offers a quick dip at the waist before turning back to hustle inside the interior of the restaurant. He’ll return in a few seconds, accompanied by the chef with a tray of desserts that she probably won’t eat. At least we can take them home to Nonna.
A small smile eases some of the tension in her face when they return. Delighting in the quaint custom of presenting a variety of sweetened fruits and tiny desserts before coffee is served. Despite her own internal conflicts, she praises the gesture, oohing and aahing over the presentation and indulging in a miniature hazelnut cookie lined in chocolate. Confirming to the eager men the deliciousness of her treat and offering her gratitude.
I relax myself from her pleasure and savor the last of my espresso. Anxious to finish the meal and enjoy my version of dessert back at home now that we have all of our other business taken care of. Even Mack’s disparaging comments about me during their video chat earlier couldn’t ruin our evening. Especially when she defended me. At least with regard to Sergei. Me stealing her away and keeping her permanently still gets her a little riled. But she nor her friend nor anyone else will ever change my intentions toward her or my plans for us.
“Tell me about your sister.”
The twitching of my cock from imagining those plans instantly ends from her unexpected request. I gingerly set the small cup down onto the matching saucer and reach for the bill. Ignoring her and the ache throbbing in my gut. I fucked up telling her about Joslyn. I should have just let her think they were an old girlfriend’s clothes. Not like she wouldn’t be any less furious with me.
