Page 12 of His to Possess
I rushed down the crowded sidewalk, my heels clicking against the pavement as I wove through the sea of bodies. Damn it. I was going to be late. The posh restaurant loomed ahead, its golden lights beckoning from the end of the block. It was one of the more expensive establishments in the city, with small menu portions that somehow reached astronomical prices. Being late would most certainly be a bad look in a place like that.
This part of Chicago dripped with wealth, sleek storefronts and gleaming high-rises towering above. I felt out of place, even in my navy dress from Paris. It hugged my curves just right, but I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone could see right through me. See the fraud, the woman running from her past.
It's just in your head, I tried to remind myself, though it did little to soothe my worries. I tried to assure myself that I was getting a fresh start here after everything I'd been through in Paris, but somehow, I always worried that my past wouldcatch up to me. That people would somehow find out what had happened. That they'd judge me for it.
I adjusted the pearl necklace at my throat, my fingers brushing against my skin. The pearls were cool, grounding. A gift from my mother, before… I pushed the thought away. Focus, Laurel. I couldn't allow myself to panic any more than I was already dealing with.
The Uber disaster flashed through my mind. Of course, there was a traffic jam that night of all nights. And then that endless walk. I would have killed for a pair of flats.
I caught my reflection in a storefront window. My chignon was still intact, thank God. But my cheeks were flushed, and I could see the hint of panic in my eyes. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, before I continued with a quick step.
Darrel was waiting. Sweet, kind Darrel. The only person in that whole damn city who showed me any real kindness since I arrived.
A pang of guilt twisted in my stomach. I knew he wanted more than friendship. I saw the way his eyes lingered, how his smile softened when he looked at me. But I couldn't. I wasn't ready. The wounds from Paris were still too fresh, and the fear of letting anyone get close was still too raw. More than anything, I wanted to give it to him—I wanted to give him a chance and see where it may take us. After all, a man like him was, theoretically, precisely what I needed. I needed a stable, kind man by my side when my chaos took over. No matter how much I knew I needed it, though, I just couldn't force myself to take that step.
Somehow, he still understood it. I made it clear: friends, nothing more. To his credit, Darrel truly respected that. He was nothing but a gentleman, offering companionship without pressure. And God knew I needed a friend in that lonely city.
The restaurant came into view, all polished wood and sparkling crystal. I paused for a moment, smoothing my dress and taking one last steadying breath. Here went nothing.
I pushed open the heavy doors, the warmth and soft lighting a stark contrast to the chilly Chicago night. My eyes scanned the room, searching for Darrel. The polished tables had tiny decorations in the middle, a minimalistic approach, but effective, along with expensive plates and cutlery that more than likely cost more than a grocery shopping spree. My gaze swept across the area, searching table after table. There he was, rising from a corner booth, his face lighting up as he spotted me.
His dark hair was slicked back neatly, the color matching the short, well-groomed stubble along his jaw. There were a few faint lines around his blue eyes—probably from years of smiling—and it made him look even more charming. Tonight, he wore a light blue button-up shirt tucked into a pair of grey pants, both of which suited his skin tone perfectly. He looked effortlessly put together, in a way that drew attention without even trying.
"Laurel!" he called, waving me over. "I was starting to worry."
I made my way to him, weaving between tables. "I'm so sorry," I said, breathless. "Traffic was a nightmare."
Darrel leaned in, placing a quick, chaste kiss on my cheek. Sweet, dependable Darrel.
"No worries at all." He pulled out my chair. "I'm just glad you made it."
He held my chair as I settled into my seat, grateful for the moment to catch my breath. Darrel slid into the chair across from me, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.
"You look lovely," he said, and I could hear the sincerity in his voice.
"Thank you," I replied, smoothing my dress. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
Darrel chuckled, adjusting his tie. "I try. Though I feel a bit out of place in these fancy spots."
I glanced around the restaurant, taking in the crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths. "You and me both," I admitted. At least I wasn't the only one. It was rare for me to click with someone like this, so the change in my social life was nice. I was accustomed to surface-level interactions and fake politeness, but Darrel radiated so much sincerity that I could easily lose myself in it.
"Good evening, and welcome," the waiter, a tall, blonde man with a polite smile, said as he appeared, handing us menus bound in soft leather. I scanned the offerings, my eyes widening at the prices. Sure, I expected this to be expensive, but not this expensive. Especially not for simple pasta meals. Panic captured me right away—why didn't I suggest a cheaper place to meet up at? When Darrel had brought it up, I instantly agreed, unable to fight his enthusiasm. Right now, I greatly regretted that decision. Darrel must have noticed my expression because he leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "Don't worry about the cost. This is my treat, remember?"
I shot him a grateful smile. "You're too kind, Darrel. Really."
He waved off my comment. "It's the least I can do. You've been working so hard lately."
We placed our orders—a filet mignon for Darrel, herb-crusted salmon for me. After a little back and forth, Darrel talked me out of getting a pasta meal, telling me that it would be a shame when they have the best salmon around. As the waiter walked away, Darrel leaned back in his chair, studying me.
"So, how are you settling in? Chicago treating you alright?"
I took a sip of water, considering my answer. "It's… an adjustment. But I'm getting there. The work's keeping me busy, at least."
Darrel nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I can only imagine. Moving to a new city and starting fresh takes time."
If only he knew the half of it, I thought. But I pushed the thought away, forcing a smile. "You've been a big help, you know. Having a friendly face around makes all the difference."
His eyes softened at my words, and I felt a twinge of guilt. I knew he wanted more, but I just couldn't give it to him. Not then. Maybe not ever. The feeling haunted me for the most part, but it was even worse now that I sat in front of him, and he offered nothing but kindness and understanding.
