Chapter 6 #2
Rather than going inside, he waited for his car to drive off before making his way to the white panel van parked several yards down the block.
To anyone else, it would appear as if it was merely one of the city’s maintenance vehicles.
To Coulter, it was the perfect place to keep tabs on Alex and Crawford.
He stepped from the curb and gave a couple hard slaps against the van’s side as he approached the back bumper. “It’s me.”
Seconds later, the right portion of the split doors swung open and a familiar face appeared.
“They just got seated at their table.” Agent Lisa Swensen greeted him before moving out of his way.
Climbing inside, Coulter pulled the door shut behind him. He scanned their immediate area as he did to ensure no one was watching.
“You said they’re at the table?”
The curly-haired brunette nodded, pointing to one of the vehicle’s six screens. Three on his left, three to the right. Each with a different view of the restaurant’s interior, courtesy of the establishment’s own security feed.
He sat down in one of two swivel chairs mounted to the van’s floor. With the long, narrow, built-in desk before him, he used the mouse and keyboard to gain access to the preferred camera view.
His heart kicked harder when he caught sight of Alex’s sparkly, red dress, and Coulter zoomed in for a closer look.
“You never did say who this woman is to you.”
“You’re right.” He made another slight adjustment. “Sure didn’t.”
Her long, frustrated sigh was impossible to miss. “So that’s how you want to play this?”
“I’m not playing at anything, Agent Swensen. I’m simply trying to do my job.”
“As am I.”
“Good. Glad to see we’re both on the same page. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to listen.”
He wasn’t purposely trying to be a dick. From the few times they’d worked together, Lisa had proven herself to be a solid field agent. But his personal connection to Alex was irrelevant to their investigation into Crawford’s illegal doings.
And unless, or until, it became an issue, he preferred to keep his private life just that. Private. Especially when, unfortunately for him, there was nothing remotely romantic happening between him and Alex.
“Fine.” Agent Swensen took a seat in the chair to his left. “Let’s see what our target and his mystery date have to say.”
“I must say, Alexandria,” Gordan began. “That is quite a dress.”
Alex sent the billionaire a smile from across the small, rectangular table. “I’m happy you approve.”
Her gut was tight, and her heart felt as though it would pound its way out of her chest. The man had been not-so-subtlety flirting with her since the moment she’d gotten into his car.
“Yes, well.” Gordan sat back in his chair a bit more. “I have a feeling you look fabulous no matter what you choose to wear.”
It was all she could do to conceal her disgust and keep her expression steady. To distract herself from the knowledge of who this man truly was, Alex reached for the hardcover menu before her.
“Don’t trouble yourself with the menu, my dear. I took the liberty of ordering ahead.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “You did?”
Could this guy be any more pretentious?
“Trust me. The chef is a personal friend.”
And that meant the guy knew the kinds of foods she liked? She had to work hard not to roll her eyes.
“I can’t wait,” she lied, setting the menu down and picking up the crystal water goblet instead. The cool, crisp liquid felt refreshing on her dry throat as she took a generous sip.
“I apologize for being forward, but I feel obligated to ask. You and Mr. Morris . . .”
“Mr. Morris?” Alex was momentarily confused. “Oh, you mean Cole.”
Nice save, Al.
Gordan nodded, his mouth lifting into a slight curve though his eyes seemed to be watching her closely.
“If you’re asking whether Cole and I are an item, we aren’t.”
“No?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I must admit, that’s quite a relief.”
A nagging made its presence known deep in her gut.
“How so?” Alex asked the question despite fearing the answer was already clear.
“I suppose I sound a bit old-school by admitting this, but I’d hate to think I was encroaching on another man’s territory by inviting you to dinner.”
Did he seriously just refer to her as being another man’s territory?
I’ll take “What is Misogyny” for a thousand, please.
Remembering she had a part to play, Alex pulled upon every last ounce of acting skills she possessed. She relaxed her tense shoulders and resisted the urge to lift her stubborn chin.
“I thought you invited me to dinner to discuss showing my work.”
“Oh, believe me, Alexandria. I very much want your paintings to hang in my gallery. As you did last night, their beauty will shine brighter than ever beneath my lights.”
Okay, so clearly this man wasn’t merely misogynistic; he was also totally full of himself. It was hard to believe she’d made such a grave error in judgement to put someone like him on such a high pedestal.
You know what they say . . . Meeting your heroes in real life often leads to nothing but disappointment.
It wasn’t the first time she’d had blinders on when it came to trusting a man she admired. The mess her cheating ex had left in his wake should have been lesson enough. Apparently she still had a lot to learn.
Play along, Al. Remember who this man is.
Her subconscious was right. She needed to act over-the-moon flattered or the jerk might become suspicious.
“Well, don’t worry.” Alex kept her hands busy by carefully placing the linen napkin over her exposed lap. With steeling breath, she continued her performance with, “Mr. Morris is nice enough and certainly attractive. But I prefer men who are a bit more mature.”
“Lucky for me.”
“We’ll see.” She smiled back.
There. How’s that for acting?
Gordan’s deep chuckle caused his suited shoulders to shake. “My dear Alexandria.” He lifted his glass to his lips. “I must say, you do intrigue me so.”
“As do my paintings, right?” Alex attempted to redirect the conversation to a more professional level.
The look on his face was anything but.
“I can honestly say there’s not an aspect of your life I don’t wish to learn more about.”
“Too bad I’m flying back to Charlotte in the morning.”
“If I didn’t have an early meeting myself, I’d offer to fly you home in my private jet.”
The idea of spending hours locked away in a plane with this guy turned her already churning stomach.
“Give me the chance to see how the other half lives?” She didn’t let her growing nausea show.
“Something like that.” Gordan’s lips curled into a smug smirk.
“Another time, perhaps.”
Oh, sure. How ’bout we plan for, say, a month from never?
“Perhaps. Of course, the sooner we can get you front and center in my corner of the art world, the sooner it will be you who’s living as the other half.”
The conversation came to a natural lull before Gordan began discussing his gallery and all the ways he could help her career flourish. Their server came with the first course of the meal he’d chosen, which included a tiny salad and a cup of creamy butternut squash soup.
As they ate, Alex did her best impression of a woman who was hanging on her dinner date’s every word. She laughed at his jokes. Agreed with his opinions on the food, the service, and the art that had been on display during the previous night’s event.
By the time the main course was brought to their table, her appetite was non-existent. She looked at her plate, picked up her fork, and took a bite of the Tournedos Rossini, otherwise known as a fancy version of beef tenderloin.
“It’s delicious, yes?”
“Mmm . . .” Alex nodded, thankful she didn’t have to lie. “This is excellent, thank you.”
“Try it with the foie gras.”
If memory served, the added delicacy was made from a duck or goose that had been force fed to purposely fatten the poor animal’s liver.
The last thing she wanted to do was put something like that in her mouth.
But the sooner the food was gone, the faster she could get out of here and back to the comfort of her hotel.
Don’t you mean back to Colt?
Alex swallowed back the unexpected thought and cut a tiny piece of the so-called delicacy with her fork. Stabbing another bite of the beef to hopefully cover the texture and taste, she glanced up to find Gordan watching her with an unsettling level of interest.
She bought the fork up toward her mouth. Her lips parted. Alex said a silent prayer that she could choke it down without gagging.
Speaking of gagging.
Gordan must have sensed her hesitation, because the next thing she knew, he was reaching across the small table and putting his hand over hers.
“Go on. Try it.” He brushed his thumb across her skin, his touch sending a shiver of unease racing down her spine. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”
I already do.
The beef’s thin edge barely touched her mouth when her phone began to ring.
Yes!
Alex breathed a sigh of relief knowing she’d quite literally been saved by the bell. Gordan, however, didn’t bother to hide his twinge of annoyance at the rude interruption.
“I’m so sorry,” she lied, balancing the fork on the edge of her plate and pulling her hand free from his. “I meant to put it on silent when we got here.” She grabbed her purse. “I guess I was too distracted to remember.”
That sounded plausible, right?
She moved quickly to end the incessant ringing. Freeing the metal clasp of her purse, she retrieved her phone and pressed the tiny button on its side. The ringing stopped, but Alex froze when she saw the name and number on the screen.
“Is something wrong?”
“I-I’m not sure.” She frowned. “It says Atrium Health. That’s the trauma center in Charlotte. I’m so sorry, but I need to take this.” Not waiting for permission, she swiped her finger across the smooth, glass screen. With the phone to her ear, Alex answered the call with a low, “Hello?”
A female voice she didn’t recognize asked, “Is this Alexandria Webb?”
“It is.” She glanced around, unable to miss the looks of disapproval from those at the tables around them.