Page 25 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“Thanks for the support.”
“I’m serious. You’re sitting here miserable because you think you’re protecting her feelings, but what if she wants the same thing you do? What if she’s sitting somewhere right now, wondering why you’re not fighting for more?”
The thought had occurred to me, more than once. But every time I considered pushing the boundaries of our arrangement, I remembered the look in Naomi’s eyes when she’d first laid out the rules. The way she’d spoken, like she was protecting herself from something.
“First, I’m not miserable. I’ve gained as much from our arrangement as she has. I am just simply… hungry for more. That could mean I’m greedy or out of my mind. Secondly, she’s out at dinner with a client tonight,” I said.
“And that bothers you.”
It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t bother answering it. “She only goes out with specific clients. Her… day one’s. So mostly, she isn’t available for clients, her girls are.”
“And that bothers you,” he repeated.
We stared at each other. “Yeah. It bothers me.”
“Then do something about it.”
“Like what?”
“Like, tell her how you feel. Like, ask for what you want. Like, stop hiding behind this arrangement and act like the man I know you are.”
I finished my Brandy and set the glass down. “What if she says no?”
“Then at least you’ll know. But what if she says yes?”
Naomi
The restaurant was everything Nathan Bullard had promised, intimate lighting, impeccable service, and a lengthy wine list. He’d chosen well, and he knew it. Nathan never chose anything unless he was certain it would impress.
“The salmon here is extraordinary,” he said, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “I have to say, however, nothing compares to the company.”
I smiled. “You’re very kind.”
Nathan was handsome in that corporate way that some women found irresistible. His silver hair was effortlessly styled, his expensive suit was tailored to show off his still-fit physique, and a timepiece on his wrist was worth its weight in gold. He was successful, charming, and attentive, making him a great dinner companion.
But as he launched into a story about his latest acquisition, I found myself comparing him to Christian. Nathan’sconversation was as phony as his personality. He’d concocted this persona in an effort to show how brilliant, wealthy, and funny he was. Yet, he was still single, and no woman could stand to be his ‘one and only’ for longer than dinner. I know because he’d told me as much. Of course he blamed it on them not knowing when they had a good thing, but I knew better. Even his laugh was fake. When Christian laughed, it was because something amused him. When Christian spoke, there was substance beneath the surface, not just skillful corporate lecture.
“The merger should be finalized by December,” Nathan continued, cutting his steak with a knife. “Once we acquire their distribution network, we’ll control sixty percent of the Midwest market.”
“That’s impressive,” I said, taking a sip of the wine he’d selected. “Your shareholders must be pleased.”
“Ecstatic. However, success is much sweeter when you have someone sophisticated to share it with.” His eyes lingered on me and as long as I had been on these dates with him, he still had his hopes up that I would become more than a dinner companion.
This was my job, to listen with interest, to make him feel like the most fascinating man in the room. But tonight, the performance felt more daunting than usual.
“Tell me about your art collection,” I said, steering the conversation to safer ground. “I noticed the Rothko in your office.”
Nathan’s face lit up, and he spent the next twenty minutes detailing his acquisitions. I nodded at appropriate intervals, asked thoughtful questions, and played the role of the cultured woman who found his taste impeccable. But part of my mind wandered to Wednesday night, when Christian had cooked for me and let me fall asleep against his shoulder, content just to have me there.
After dinner, Nathan suggested drinks at his penthouse. It was a predictable request—most of my clients enjoyed showing off their homes, their success, and their ability to afford my company for an entire evening.
Nathan’s penthouse was what I’d expected, marble floors, modern art, and a view of the city. He poured wine while I settled on his white leather sofa, crossing my legs and arranging my red dress.
“You’re quite lovely,” he said, sitting beside me close enough that I could smell his expensive and aggressive cologne. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“Have you?” I accepted the wine glass, letting warmth creep into my voice.
“Absolutely. You know, I was thinking...” His hand slid across my knee, his fingers resting there possessively. “Perhaps we could make this a regular arrangement. I travel to St. Louis frequently for business. It would be nice to have someone... reliable to accompany me to events.”
