Chapter 7 #3
She turns back to her computer, already settling into work again, while I stand there, still pretending this is a work task and not what it really is.
“I need you to take notes for my lunch meeting,” I lie. “If you’re available.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Sure. When is it?” She clicks something on her screen, scanning her calendar. “I must’ve missed the invite.”
“It’s right now. Last-minute decision.”
Technically, it’s just an informal lunch with one of the developers I see often. It being a last-minute decision is true though.
“Well, I’m not doing anything, so sure.” She freezes at what she has said. “Besides working extremely hard, of course. Phew, you wouldn’t believe the number of things on my to-do list.”
“Marley,” I grumble, cutting her off.
“Hm?” She blinks up at me, all wide-eyed innocence, like she’s testing whether I’ll buy into her act.
I sigh, fighting the urge to smile. She’s impossible, and I love that.
Swiveling my arm, I check the time on my watch. “So, are you free?”
In one fluid motion, she slips her work laptop, the audio recorder, and a notepad into a leather tote bag.
We ride the elevator down in silence.
Walking through the lobby, I don’t even glance at the receptionist. I’m too afraid I’ll catch the look on her face when she sees me leaving with my assistant—for the second time this week.
Once is a fluke. Twice starts to look like a pattern.
This is only going to fuel the rumors.
When you go from never being seen with your assistant to leaving twice with someone like Marley, who turns heads without trying, people are bound to speculate. Worse, they’ll assume.
And I don’t want that. Not for me. Especially not for her.
After this, I tell myself, I’ll stop. This is the last time.
The car ride is mostly silent this time, with Marley staring out the window and chewing on the corner of her thumbnail. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but it seems like it would be crossing this crucial boss-employee line that I so desperately need to maintain.
Pulling up to the restaurant, a floppy-haired valet opens Marley’s passenger door, and offers his hand to help her stand in her heels. Walking up right behind them, I slip a twenty into his palm, and turn to Marley, gesturing to the front door of the well-known establishment.
She stops walking mid-step. “You didn’t tell me the meeting was here.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
It’s an upscale restaurant, yet she’s staring at it like it’s the entrance to a haunted house.
“It’s just really fancy,” she replies, shrugging. “Like really, really fancy.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It’s not bad,” she replies, pausing to search for the right words. “I’ve walked by this place a million times and never thought I’d ever get to step foot inside. I mean, you’ve seen where I live, Theo.”
I stare at her, realizing we come from completely different worlds. Places like this were considered fast food to us, but the older I get, the more I see how unfair it is. How some people grow up surrounded by excess, while others fight simply to get by.
“Well, now you are going in. So, let’s make it worth your while.”
Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath in, gathering back her confidence. “Let’s do it.”
We step foot into the restaurant’s lobby, and I try to imagine it through her eyes for the very first time.
Polished marble floors beneath the glow of an extravagant chandelier.
The hum of conversation mixing with the sound of crystal glasses clinking.
Waitstaff bustling between tables in perfectly pressed uniforms, balancing dishes that look more like works of art than food.
To me, it’s simply another restaurant. Judging by the look on her face, however, it must feel like stepping into another world entirely.
The investor I’m meeting, Sean, walks up out of nowhere, firmly shaking my hand. “Theo. It’s great to see you again.” He barely finishes his sentence, before his eyes run rampantly over Marley, head-to-toe and back up again. “And who here do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
Extending her hand, she smiles wide and bright, causing Sean to be even more in awe. “Hi, I’m Mr. Prescott’s assistant. Marley James.”
Sean offers his arm to her to lead her to our table.
She takes it, natural as can be, lacing her toned arm through his.
I don’t know why I feel like such a dumbass following them through the restaurant, but I absolutely do.
Especially when Sean turns around and mouths wow in reference to her.
You’d have to be blind not to see that she has the kind of beauty that knocks the wind from your lungs.
The host leads us to our table, a prime spot with a perfect view of the city, handing each of us a menu as we sit. Sean launches into a spiel about some high-end project he’s funding for a famous client, clearly more interested in impressing Marley than in the conversation itself.
I’m seeing now that it was a bad idea to bring her here. Because now I’ll have to sit as a witness, watching him peacocking for the next hour or two.
Eventually, he dismisses himself from the table to answer a phone call coming from his child’s school.
As soon as he’s out of ear reach, Marley leans into my space, menu in hand, as she whispers, “This is wild. A bowl of soup costs almost as much as my entire week of groceries.”
I find the priciest soup and see how much it costs—thirty dollars. Is she living on thirty fucking dollars a week for food?
Before I have the chance to ask, Sean steps back up to the table, apologizing for having to step away. Right away, he lays it on thick, his sole focus on impressing Marley.
“So, Marley. How’s it been working for this guy?” He points toward me, saying it like he’s ready to poke fun at my expense.
She doesn’t take his bait. “Absolutely wonderful. He’s a great boss,” she replies very politely. And even though I’m unsure if she means a word of it, I can’t help but be a little proud.
He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “I find that a little hard to believe, but I’m glad everyone seems happy.”
“We are, thanks,” I mumble.
It has Marley looking at me out of the corner of her eye, giving me a curious look at why I’m suddenly acting gruff.
We steer the conversation back to business, discussing a few of the redevelopment projects we’re eyeing for acquisition. Sean throws out questions, feigning interest in the numbers but clearly more focused on the potential return.
When the waiter arrives, Sean rattles off his usual steak order, while I go with the braised chicken.
I catch the quick flick of her eyes to the prices on the engraved menu before she clears her throat. “The Caesar side salad, please.”
It’s barely a meal, but I don’t say anything.
Glancing at the menu, I confirm what I already suspected. The side salad is the cheapest thing they serve here. And I’d bet anything that’s exactly why she ordered it.
The waiter is pivoting to leave, when I call out, “Excuse me. Can I please get an extra order of the risotto special to go too? Thank you.”
“Feeling a little extra hungry today, Theo?” Sean remarks.
“Something like that,” I grumble. Knowing full well, I’m one step closer to being too invested—in this. In her.
Throughout our meal, he and I talk numbers while we wait for our food, with Marley jotting down pieces of the information.
I don’t actually need any of it written down, that wasn’t the point of inviting her.
The point was to ensure that I could take care of her by giving her a meal.
I knew work was the only way to get her here and food in her stomach.
Taking the bill from the server, I pull out my company card without a second thought. I catch Marley glancing at the receipt, clearly in shock at the amount.
I’ve never felt self-conscious about how easily I spend, until now.
Not until I catch her watching me sign, those big green eyes quietly taking in how easily we’ve just dropped a ridiculous amount on one meal.
I feel the weight of it then. The disparity. It’s the kind of imbalance that shouldn’t exist, but it does. And I’m part of it.
The waitstaff hands me a fresh carton full of warm mushroom risotto as we stand from the table. Walking outside, Sean shakes my hand firmly before turning to Marley.
“Do you mind if I speak with you privately for a moment?” he asks her.
She hesitates, looking at me briefly, searching for an answer, before giving in and nodding.
“Of course,” she says, her tone polite. I watch as they step a few feet away, his body language changing into something too casual for my liking.
Hands in pockets, leaning in more than necessary.
I’ve seen this a few times before with him, at conferences or out at lunch.
It’s his signature move he’s smugly mentioned.
And I never thought I’d have to worry about any of that, until it’s aimed at Marley specifically.
I stand stock-still, watching them, gripping the handle of the take-out bag so tightly the plastic crinkles in my palm. Whatever he’s saying has her eyebrows lifting in surprise, and then she laughs. It’s a soft, melodic sound that’s too genuine to be anything but real.
The valet pulls up with my car, but I don’t move until she walks back over to me, her expression its typical sunshiney self, and completely unreadable as to what just occurred.
“What did Sean want?” I ask, trying my best to sound casual.
Her lips twitch upward. “He asked me out. Wanted my number so we can ‘connect’ sometime.” She wiggles her eyebrows, clearly amused by the situation.
I’m going to fucking kill him. Why he’d think it was appropriate to hit on one of my employees, after a lunch meeting, no less, is beyond me. I can feel the rage building up like an active volcano, but I tuck it away.
Holding the car door open, I watch as she slips inside the passenger seat. “That’s wildly inappropriate on his part,” I grumble. “I’ll talk to him.”
“It’s a compliment.” She shrugs, completely unfazed. “Besides, I said yes.”
My heart stops right then and there.
Should I care? Of course not.
But do I? Absolutely.