Page 38 of Billionaire and the Barista

NATHAN

The Jag purred to a stop. I tossed the keys to the valet and went inside adjusting the buttons on my suit jacket as I walked. I was glad to have my clothes back from Amsterdam. The thought of having to waste my time finding a good tailor and buying a wardrobe was beyond my current scope of management. There was too much going on still.

My phone buzzed and I answered it before striding in through the doors held open by a doorman.

“Mom, what is it?”

She launched into some tirade about my aunt wanting something that had belonged to my father.

“She said it belonged to her mother. And I know for a fact that it did not. Your father bought that for me when he went to Shanghai on business back when you were little. She’s always coveted it. And now, to say it had been in her family for generations when it hadn’t. You know I began searching through your father's records. He kept everything.”— I knew too well about that; we were still sorting through documents back at the office. — “And she tells me she’s going to come by and wants me to have it all packaged up. So, you know what I told her?”

There was a pause, I expected her to continue. When she didn’t, I realized she expected me to respond.

What had she been saying?

“Uh-huh, and what then?” I prayed those were the right words to placate her. I hadn’t been paying attention. Gabriella was due to arrive any minute, and I did not want to be on the phone with my mother when she did.

“Well, I told her that if your father had wanted her to have it, it would have been in the will, and she is just going to have to wait for probate like the rest of us before assets are distributed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

“How is your apartment? Did you have furniture there yet?”

“It’s fine mom. I have some furniture.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m about to have dinner with some friends. I need to go now.”

“Oh, are you meeting a woman?”

“Goodbye, mother.” I hung up the phone before I heard the next thing she had to say.

The Maître D’ stood by with a patient look on his face, waiting for me to finish my call.

I placed my hand over my chest and adjusted my tie with a few shifts of my hand. A quick tilt of my head and my jaw and neck let go of the tension building there with a pop.

“Reservation for Anderson,” I said.

“Very good. Does sir wish to be seated to wait for his companion, or have a seat at the bar?”

“Bar sounds good.”

I followed him into the lounge area and took a seat at the bar. I ordered a non-alcoholic mojito. When my drink arrived, I took a sip and watched the door, waiting for Gabriella.

She rushed in with a laugh and turned to look outside. It had started raining, and she had gotten caught in the downpour. The Maître D’ handed her a linen napkin, and she patted her face. That dazzling smile never left her lips. Other couples came in after her with scowls and sour looks on their faces, but not her.

The Maître D’ began showing her the way, but then she said something and skipped ahead of him and straight to me. She moved in perfect slow motion giving me time to take all of her in. Her beauty, her laughter, her infectious charm. Her hair was swept up showing off her graceful neck. Her eyes sparkled with gold powder. Her red dress clung to her breasts in ways that had me forgetting my name and birth date.

I stood and put my arms out and by the time she came to me, I was smiling along with her. She rested her hands on my chest, and leaned up, placing a quick kiss against my cheek.

“You’re all wet,” I chuckled.

“Not a drop of rain the entire ride over, and the second I get out of the car, whoosh, the sky opens up, and down it came.”

“You don’t need to call tonight off, do you?” I didn’t know if she would want to change into something drier or not.

“I’m not that wet. And this will dry out soon enough”— she shook the skirt of her dress— “it’s cotton so it will be fine.”

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