Page 97 of The Fake Dating Plan

“Did you see this?” She turned her phone towards me. A news headline read:

Silvester Heron arrested by the FBI on Fraud Charges. Currently wanted for questioning by Interpol.

“Interpol?”

“Apparently, it has something to do with some crown jewels in Spain,” Dylan said, his gaze on his phone. “He’s been running a racket for years. Em, did you know about this?”

I shook my head. However, crown jewels in Spain? I couldn’t shake off the feeling it had to do with that ruby crown at the Sage Gala.

I don’t think I have ever been this nervous before. The last time I felt like a ball of nerves was when I asked Emilia out on our first date. I was a kid then. I thought it was me being inexperienced in the dating arena. Now, I’m not so sure. It could just be Emilia herself, with the ability to turn my confidence into mush.

“Where are we going?” She asked as we got out of her office building.

“Would you mind if I don’t tell you?”

Her eyes flashed. “If you must know, I have a very busy afternoon. You only have the hour.”

When she agreed to lunch, I almost punched the air. I didn’t think she would and now I was taking her on a surprise outing. The decision to do so was simple and obvious. Who doesn’t like a surprise lunch date? She enjoyed it the last time, but now, maybe she wouldn’t. But I didn’t show my insecurities. Outside, I was steel made flesh.

“An hour is more than enough,” I said as I opened the car door for her. Fingers crossed this works out, I thought. A bout of silence passed as Eddie waded through the traffic. I was comfortable with it, but I could tell she wasn’t. There was something on the tip of her tongue. After some time she said, “Have you seen the news?”

“About Heron? Yes.”

“Did you do that?”

I nodded. Lying would be futile. “After you told me the crown was fake, I made a few inquiries into the donation and uncovered a scheme he was running. When I sent the information to Interpol, they sent it to the FBI, the ball began rolling.”

“I had no idea. Was it because—

“He was harassing you? Yes. That made me want to gut him more, but I’ve always hated him.”

The car stopped. We were at my office building and when she saw, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, we’re really going to lunch,” I said in her confusion. “This is not an ambush.” If I was doubting myself before, the doubts only increased when we arrived at the rooftop and she saw the helicopter standing there, ready to take off.

She froze.

“I promise I won’t abduct you,” I said, giving her my hand.

She said nothing, but avoided my hand and got into the helicopter on her own. When the bird landed and she got out, realized where I had taken her, her face changed from frozen nonchalance to a type of warmth I had never seen in a while. It disappeared as fast as it appeared.

“I thought we were going to lunch,” she said as I led her towards the greenhouse.

“We are.” I opened the large door and waved her in. “After you.”

The setup wasn’t a complete replica from last time, but it was almost the same. I brought a table this time and not a picnic blanket. The food had already been set, and I saw the chef slipping away in the corner of my eye just as we came in. Good. That meant the food was still hot. I wanted us to be alone. I didn’t want other people around. It made it more romantic. But it would also lessen my embarrassment if this all goes awry.

I drew out a seat for her.

“Where is she?”

“Spain. It’s her mother’s hundredth birthday.”

“Hundredth?”

I shrugged. “There’s the starter…” I opened the small platter. It was her favorite mushroom soup with caviar shavings. She made a face. “Wow. What ambush am I about to receive this time?”

I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then I remembered. What a shithead I was. The last time I offered her mushroom soup, we broke up. The previous time, I blackmailed her into a deal. Idiot.

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