Chapter 13
Charlotte
Tip #13: If your boss is intense about his work life, chances are he’ll be equally as intense when it comes to his romantic life.
I squinted at the faded wooden sign above the weathered brick building. “The Mad Picnic Party,” it read in peeling paint. What in the world?
As it was Friday—the appointed evening of our dinner together—I’d thought nothing of it when Isaac asked if he could run a personal errand before we ate. But why would we come here for a personal errand?
“Isaac.” I turned to my impossibly handsome boss as we stood on the sidewalk. “I thought we were grabbing dinner. What are we doing here?”
His eyes sparkled mischievously behind his glasses. “I told you, Charlotte, it’s a personal errand.”
Before I could ask him to go on, he pulled the front door open. I followed him inside, the worn wooden floor creaking as we entered.
The interior was like stepping into a deli crossed with a gourmet food shop. Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars of fancy spreads and artisanal crackers. A glass case displayed an array of cheeses and meats that made my mouth water. Another counter was dedicated to picnic basket meals, stuffed with different selections of side dishes. The whole place had a cozy, homey vibe but definitely needed some TLC.
Two women stood in the center of the store. The older one, probably in her early seventies, had the air of a kindly grandmother. The younger one, maybe in her early fifties, looked unpleasantly familiar.
It was the lobby lady—the irate client who’d screamed at me in the Warner Print Welcome Center last week.
My body tensed involuntarily.
The nasty-tempered woman narrowed her eyes as she recognized us. “You,” she growled, her voice dripping with venom.
Isaac breezed past her like she was invisible. “Phyllis,” he greeted the older woman. “So good to see you again.”
I blinked in surprise. Isaac knew her?
Phyllis beamed at Isaac. “Congratulations on your purchase, dear. I got the paperwork this morning.”
Purchase? What?
“Thank you, Phyllis,” Isaac replied smoothly.
The angry woman puffed up like an indignant pigeon. “Phyllis!” she squawked. “Throw these two out immediately! They were unbelievably rude to me last week at Warner Print.”
Phyllis sighed, looking tired. “Jan, I can’t do that. And please mind your manners.” Phyllis turned back to Isaac. “This is my niece Jan. Jan, this is Isaac Warner.”
Jan’s scowl deepened. “I don’t care if he’s a Warner. Even if he personally apologizes for his rude behavior, he’s still a jack?—”
“That’s quite enough,” Phyllis cut her off. “Jan, you’re going to make it very awkward for yourself if you keep this up.”
Jan’s face flushed an ugly shade of red. “Nonsense! Why should I care about him?”
Isaac’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Because I’m the new owner of Mad Picnic Party.”
I barely slapped my emotionless poker face on in time to cover my shock.
Jan’s face drained of all color, transforming from tomato red to sheet white in seconds. Her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish out of water, no sound coming out.
I shifted at Isaac’s side.
Isaac looked down at me.
“Personal errand?” I asked, my voice tart.
Isaac’s grin was one of his rare careless ones that was a little lopsided. He only pulled it out when he was truly delighted. “Surprise.”
Jan sputtered incoherently as I watched in stunned silence while Phyllis handed Isaac two jangling rings of keys.
“These are for the front and back doors,” Phyllis explained, her voice cheery. “And I’ve got all the instructions written down, just like you requested in your offer.”
Isaac nodded, his face a mask of polite professionalism. “Thank you, Phyllis. I appreciate your thoroughness.”
“Oh, honey, I should be thanking you.” Phyllis patted her snowy white hair. “I’ve been trying to sell this place for years with no takers until you came along. Good luck with your new venture!”
“I am much obliged.” Isaac pivoted away from Phyllis, turning to face a snarling Jan. His eyes hardened to steel. “You. You’re fired.”
Jan’s jaw dropped again. “You can’t do that!”
“I’m the owner,” Isaac said flatly. “I can do whatever I want.”
“This is unlawful termination!” Jan shrieked, her face reddening all over again. “You’re firing me because of a personal vendetta!”
I bit my lip, desperately trying not to laugh but also feeling more than a little vindicated.
Isaac’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You’re right, I don’t like you, Jan. But I can fire you because you got this job through nepotism, you’re terrible at customer service, and frankly, you’re a drag on the business. The online reviews speak for themselves, not to mention the records of complaints customers have filed against you.”
Jan’s face contorted in ugly shock, her eyes bulging. I pressed my hand to my mouth and coughed, stifling a giggle. This whole thing was so petty, so unnecessary, and yet so perfectly Isaac.
Some rich guys bought yachts, multiple mansions, and ridiculously expensive cars. Isaac? He overpaid his team and bought businesses that annoyed him. It was simultaneously the most extra and endearing thing I’d ever witnessed.
Isaac nudged my elbow, getting me to look up at him. Despite myself, I felt a rush of affection.
“You are impossible,” I muttered to him.
“It was personal.” His expression hardened as he again faced Jan. “You need to leave. Now. My people will be in touch about the termination process.”
Jan’s face flushed an alarming shade of red. She whirled on Phyllis, her voice shrill. “You can’t let him do this! Stop him!”
Phyllis shook her head, a mix of exasperation and amusement on her weathered face. “It’s out of my hands, dear. He’s the owner now.”
“Then take it back!” Jan shrieked. “Undo the sale!”
I winced at the volume. This woman could give opera singers a run for their money.
“That’s not happening,” Phyllis said firmly. She patted Jan’s shoulder, her tone softening. “I warned you for years, didn’t I? I said one day you’d insult the wrong person.” She glanced at me, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “You should’ve been nicer to the young lady.”
Jan’s gaze snapped to me, and I swear I saw steam come out of her ears. She huffed and shoved her nose up in the air, then stormed to the front door. Her dramatic exit was slightly ruined when she tripped over the welcome mat, but she recovered, flinging the door open with enough force to rattle the bell that hung above it.
Phyllis broke the silence in Jan’s wake with a sigh. “I suppose I might have spoiled my niece a touch too much as her boss, but she was such an endearing child. Regardless, congratulations again, Isaac. I have a feeling this place is in good hands.”
“Thank you, Phyllis,” Isaac replied, his usual composure back in place. “Could you show me how to lock up since business hours are over? I’ll have my team open tomorrow.”
* * *
I deftly plucked another piece of tempura fried sweet potato with my wooden chopsticks, savoring the crispy exterior and pillowy interior as I peered around 99 Tanuki. The sliding shoji doors, intricate bamboo accents, and soft glow of paper lanterns transported me far from small-town Deerfield. The beautiful Japanese restaurant was my happy place, as it was the only restaurant around that served tempura vegetables and—most important—tempura sweet potatoes.
Across the low table, Isaac meticulously sliced his tonkatsu, every movement precise. Even eating pork cutlets, he looked impressive with a dash of intimidatingly handsome.
“I’m pleased everything worked out well with Mad Picnic Party,” Isaac said, breaking the companionable silence.
I selected a tempura shrimp. “Did it, though? You’re now the unlikely owner of a deli. Isn’t that a bit outside the Warner family’s usual investments?”
Besides Warner Print, the Warners dabbled in real estate and typical financial investments like equities, bonds, ETFs, and so on. Stores and restaurants were outside their wheelhouse.
Isaac dipped a piece of tonkatsu in the specialty sauce his dinner came with. “It’s fine. Perhaps I’ll take inspiration from your quest to create a life outside of work and consider it a hobby.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out of me. “Only you would buy an entire business because it irritated you and then treat it as a hobby.”
“It didn’t merely irritate me,” Isaac corrected, his gray eyes intense behind his stylish glasses. “Jan’s treatment of you in the visitor lobby infuriated me.”
My chopsticks paused halfway to my mouth, but I knew better than to read into it. Just because Isaac was mad didn’t mean he did this all for me. Or at least, for me as a person. He probably did it for me as a Warner Print employee because of his general protectiveness of his workers.
I popped the shrimp in my mouth, savoring the crispy texture as I formulated a response. The salty aroma of soy sauce mingled with the earthy scent of green tea, and the gentle clink of ceramic cups and murmured conversations from other diners created a soothing backdrop.
“Well,” I said finally, “I hope you at least got a good deal on all that artisanal salami.”
Isaac’s mouth twitched. “I consider the money and time well spent. I know it doesn’t make up for how poorly Jan treated you, and I wish I could have done more than simply fire her, but most importantly, I hope you feel better about the situation.”
I blinked, taken aback by the declaration. “I… thank you, Isaac. That’s sweet of you.”
“You’re surprised?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m wounded, Charlotte. I’ll have you know I’m capable of great depths of feeling.”
Isaac’s knee accidentally brushed mine under the table, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I cleared my throat and ignored it. “I’m well aware of that. But could I ask for clarification?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“You said you bought Mad Picnic Party because you were angry, I assume by Jan’s treatment of a Warner Print employee?”
Isaac’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Not quite. I bought it because of you.”
My chopsticks clattered against my plate. “What?”
“I don’t particularly care how I am addressed or what others think of me,” Isaac said, his tone lofty from the confidence he held in himself. “However, I won’t stand for someone treating you the way Jan did. You deserved justice.”
I relaxed. “So you mean you didn’t like the way Jan treated a Warner Print employee?”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I bought the building,” Isaac said. “If I were only irate as your boss, I would have been content to bar Mad Picnic Party from ever working with us and inform all our local clients of how this decision came about. But because Jan made the mistake of insulting you , I wanted to take far more drastic measures.”
I stared at him, my mind reeling as I tried to process this.
Isaac was drawing a clear line and saying I meant more to him than an employee. OK, that wasn’t entirely unexpected given our friendship. But the way he said it… it sounded like I meant more to him than that.
Before I could formulate a response, the jangle of chimes announced new arrivals to the restaurant. I glanced over and nearly choked on my tempura.
“This is great. Just fantastic,” I muttered, eyeing the couple who greeted the hostess.
“What is it?” Isaac asked.
The couple turned, and the man brightened when he saw me and waved, until he realized who I was sitting with. Then, his eyebrows crawled up toward his thinning hairline with his interest.
I plastered on a fake smile and waved back to him. “Jordan from finance and his wife just walked in.”
As the hostess seated the two nearby, Isaac started tapping his fingers on the table.
Tuning in to his body language, I turned my attention back to my boss. “Something is bothering you,” I stated rather than asked.
Isaac nodded slowly. “It merely occurred to me. If you didn’t understand that I bought The Mad Picnic Party for you, does that mean you have no idea what we’re doing right now?”
I frowned, confused. “We’re… eating dinner?”
“Yes,” Isaac agreed. “We’re eating dinner on a date .”
The chopsticks slipped from my fingers, landing on my plate. “A, a date?” I repeated, my voice shaky and verging on hysteria.
Isaac nodded just as a loud clatter erupted from Jordan’s table. We both turned to see him fumbling with a plastic soy sauce container, his face beet red.
“Sorry!” Jordan squeaked, avoiding eye contact.
He had most definitely heard that declaration. Well, at least I knew I wasn’t hearing things.
I turned back to Isaac, my heart pounding. His face was illuminated by the soft glow of the paper lanterns, casting shadows that accentuated his chiseled jawline and perfectly straight nose. Wait, when did I start noticing his nose?
“Isaac,” I started, then—remembering Jordan—leaned across the table so I could hoarsely whisper, “you didn’t call this a date when you asked me to dinner!”
“Yes, I’m realizing now that was a miscalculation on my part. It seems Natalie is right, and I do need to work on my communication skills,” Isaac said, way too casually considering the topic.
I stared at the whimsical painting of a tanuki—a raccoon-like dog creature—on the wall, trying to process this information. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, hope and fear swirling together so I didn’t know how to feel about any of this. Isaac was an amazing guy, yeah, but he—Warner Print….
Grabbing my ceramic cup, I gulped a swig of my green tea, then slammed it on the table with more force than necessary.
“Why would you ask me out on a date?” I asked, the words tumbling from my mouth. “We’ve worked together for years, and now, when I’m leaving, you suddenly find me attractive?”
I shakily raised my ceramic mug to my lips as Isaac’s eyes locked on mine. “I’ve always been aware you’re attractive,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Just as I suspect you’re aware that I’m attractive.”
I choked on my tea, coughing. “What?” I croaked, my eyes watering.
Isaac thoughtfully scratched his jaw. “I apologize if that sounds arrogant, but I’m aware I’m attractive. Samuel spent years preening over his looks and attempting to use them to get Natalie’s attention. We have the same face and build, so I assume I’m considered exceptionally attractive as well.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to process this bizarrely logical explanation. “I wasn’t questioning your looks. I was questioning that you ever found me attractive.”
Isaac’s brow furrowed, creating that little crease I’d always found oddly endearing and that only showed up when he was genuinely puzzled. “I frequently tell you that you look beautiful.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you meant it!” I exclaimed, exasperated.
A second later I realized I’d said that louder than I meant to, and I self-consciously glanced at Jordan. His wife was studying the menu, but Jordan was most definitely looking at us out of the corner of his eye.
I forcibly lowered my voice and continued. “I thought you were just being nice or polite.”
Isaac scoffed, a rare show of emotion. “Charlotte, when have I ever been nice or polite?”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. He had a point. I stared down at my tempura, suddenly fascinated by the golden, crispy batter.
“It does bother me, however. Do you not know how beautiful you are?” Isaac asked.
I shifted in my chair. “I know I’m… fine.”
Now Isaac chose to get invested. He sat up straight and leaned across the table as I had, his eyes narrowed. “Charlotte, you are absolutely gorgeous—the most beautiful woman I know.”
A text alert chimed nearby. I glanced over to see Jordan furiously typing on his phone as his wife chatted with the waitress.
I’d bet my 401(k) that everyone in the finance department was getting live updates about this conversation.
This was the downside to Warner Print being in a small town. Despite the company size, everyone knew everyone else’s business—or actively sought it out.
“Charlotte?” Isaac’s voice drew my attention back to him. “Are you upset?”
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in that precise, efficient tone he used for business proposals, he asked, “If that is the case, would you consider a relationship with me?”
Looking at it from Isaac’s perspective, asking for a relationship was the next logical step given that he had approached this night with the mindset that it was a date.
I, however, was left mentally scrambling.
What, no, how ? How was this happening?
I had forced myself to acknowledge Isaac’s attractiveness with a clinical eye because I didn’t want to risk slipping up and fantasizing about something like… this . Now that this was playing out in reality, I was completely unprepared!
I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “How am I supposed to trust this isn’t just another attempt to keep me at Warner Print?” I asked, my voice low and tense.
Isaac’s brow furrowed. “It’s not. Why would you think that?”
I glanced at Jordan, who was watching us with wide eyes. The moment he caught my gaze, he quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in the paper packet that contained his wooden chopsticks.
I shook my head, then addressed my boss. “Because Warner Print is your life, Isaac. You’re the type who wouldn’t think twice about using your romantic life for the company’s gain.”
I expected him to be offended, but instead, he nodded slowly. “That does sound like me, if I hadn’t met you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Something grazed the side of my leg, and I almost leaped out of my chair when I realized it was Isaac, stretching his legs out and leaning them against my calves.
“It means,” Isaac said, “I like you too much to use you in such an underhanded way. I told you I understand why you want to leave Warner Print, didn’t I? I feel comfortable pursuing you now because you’re leaving. There’s no power imbalance to worry about anymore.”
For the first time in this stressful conversation, I actually smiled. “You never needed to worry about a power imbalance. You’re protective of your people. I know you’d never use your position over me for personal advantage or gain.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Does that mean you believe my feelings are real?”
I leaned back in my chair, massaging my temples. The chattering of other diners and the soft clink of dishes faded into the background as I tried to process everything.
Although this would normally be a dream situation—a handsome, rich, professional man confessing his feelings for me in my favorite restaurant was hard to beat—it was difficult to digest. Isaac was so blasé about the whole thing, like he was discussing a business merger instead of his feelings, and it felt very sudden.
“I believe you have good intentions,” I said finally, my voice flat. “But let’s be real, Isaac. I’d always come in second place to Warner Print. That’s not the kind of relationship I want.”
Isaac studied me, his gaze thoughtful as the soft light from the paper lanterns played up the sharp planes of his face.
That he didn’t immediately naysay my statement said a lot. Isaac might have feelings for me, but he was honest enough not to deny his family legacy would be prioritized.
I fiddled with my chopsticks—fixing the way I held them—then busied myself with eating a piece of my shrimp tempura. I could barely taste 99 Tanuki’s famous dipping sauce or the salty tempura batter that would usually have me enraptured—Isaac had thrown me off that much.
“I’m not giving up,” Isaac flatly said.
“What?” I looked up from my meal, then hunched my shoulders when I met Isaac’s gaze.
His gray eyes looked stormy as he leaned back. His chin tilted up, giving him a focused, lofty look he usually only showed when he was determined to conquer a particularly difficult project. Apparently, I was one of those projects.
“I’m not giving up on dating you,” Isaac said. “I’ll be using the remainder of our time together to my advantage, to convince you we’re not just right for each other, but that we belong together.”
It sounded like a romantic declaration, but I knew Isaac well enough to recognize he was showing the stubbornness that made him the Overlord of Warner Print finances.
“You can certainly try.” I set my chopsticks down and put the palms of my hands flat on the tabletop. “But the same stubbornness that has me quitting Warner Print is going to keep me from ever getting in a relationship with you as long as I know you’ll prioritize work over me.”
A subtle smile settled at the corners of Isaac’s mouth. “So you say.”
I narrowed my eyes, but Isaac returned to eating his pork cutlets, satisfied with himself. “Did you see they have green tea cookies today?” he asked.
I warily let him change the topic. “Yes. They also have the chocolate castella cake you like.”
“Naturally, we’ll get both,” Isaac said.
I cracked a smile—this was back to our usual rhythm. “Sounds good to me. You should get extra cookies for your grandfather since he loves them too.”
“Mother would kill me,” Isaac said. “She’s worried he holes up too much in his apartment, watching his streaming services on TV. If I bring him baked goods that she and Aunt Jamie normally use as bribes to get him out in public, she will be very put out.”
I laughed and relaxed a little more as our conversation flowed easily.
I didn’t like that Isaac was satisfied—it somehow made me feel like I was already losing. But I believed in my self-respect.
No matter how picture perfect a relationship with Isaac might appear on the surface, no matter how attractive he was and how well he knew me, I refused to come second to a company.
However, knowing Isaac, I had a hunch it was going to be difficult to stand my ground.