Chapter 3
Flynn had no idea what had just happened. She sat in the back of the black car while Frankie repeated her address and gave Q’s—Marcus’s—orders to the driver.
Stiglette? What did that even mean? And what in the world happened that I missed?
“Sunday dinner?” Flynn said aloud as the car merged into the red lights of the traffic-filled street in front of the club. “With his parents?”
“You say something, ma’am?” the driver asked.
“No. Sorry. I’m just …”
“You got a doorman at your building?”
“Yes, you can drop me off at the curb. I’ll be fine.”
“You misunderstand me. Your doorman will let me inside? Mr. Q said to see you inside. I’m not going back and telling him I didn’t see his lady inside.”
His lady. The words were nearly as big of a shock as what Q had said to her in the hallway.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you.” She laid her head against the seat and wondered how her life had taken such an unexpected turn.
She had shown up to dance and, admittedly, try once again to get Q’s attention—even though he never came down from the second floor when she was in the club—and then go home and sleep until noon before trying to find another dress that might finally catch his notice.
And here she was, on her way home before she even stepped foot on the dance floor … with an invitation to Sunday dinner to meet his parents?
Did I wake up in a different dimension? she wondered.
With earth-shattering clarity, she remembered the last time she had seen his dad. That mortifying morning Scarlett had had to bail her out of jail.
What am I going to say to them? Oh God.
It was no secret that Flynn had been a wee bit fascinated by Marcus Quinterro since the day she had first seen him.
He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
He gave off Cary Grant vibes, like from the old movies her nanny used to watch with her, like To Catch a Thief and An Affair to Remember.
Q always seemed to be totally in control of every situation, always capable, responsible, and gorgeous, no matter what he was doing.
And now I’m going to Sunday dinner to meet his parents? Step one?
Marcus Quinterro had barely looked at her all these years. Only a few times had he ever acted like he noticed her existence. And most of the time, it was only with a look of disapproval.
“I see you, Flynn. I can’t unsee you.”
Warmth filled her chest. He has noticed me.
And now … he was picking her up at two o’clock tomorrow.
Flynn had no idea how to act at a Sunday family dinner. She’d never been to one. Having a meal with her mother and the occasional stepsibling or the occasional stepfather didn’t count. It was always five courses of awkwardness over fine china, never to be repeated again.
Marcus had said he wanted a happy family, which was something Flynn had no experience with at all beyond Scarlett, Gabriel, and Gabriel’s adopted brother, Bump.
Suddenly, she felt her pulse kick up, and her heart pounded as her old friend fear thundered through her chest.
What if this is all a horrible mistake?
She’d had the same thought while sitting with sweaty palms gripping her steering wheel as she waited for the flag to drop at her first street race.
Flynn had finally gotten the chance she’d been angling for after years of striking out … and she was terrified.
What if his mom hates me? What if his dad remembers why I got arrested? What if I totally embarrass myself? What if …
Her mind spiraled, and she remembered to breathe. One breath in. One breath out.
Focus on your breath, Flynn. Fear is just energy. Notice it and let it pass through you. You can handle this. Ignore the thoughts. Focus on letting the energy go behind the sensations.
All those years of therapy her mom had paid for in lieu of parenting hadn’t gone to waste.
Flynn focused on her clammy palms and pounding heart.
I can handle that. That’s not so bad. It’s okay.
Then she focused on the oppressive feeling beneath the sensations she labeled fear.
I can handle it. It’s just energy.
Thoughts swirled, but she ignored them completely and put all her focus on letting the fear go.
Her most recent therapist had told her to see any trigger as an opportunity to release the energy stuck inside her and taught her how to focus on letting go of it in the moment. It was the first technique Flynn had ever learned that actually worked.
She felt the energy already dissipating, and her heartbeat slowed to a more manageable pace. She remembered to keep breathing as she focused on the energy itself. Within minutes, Flynn had a handle on herself again. The fear was gone, and in its place was a calm sense of peace.
The car pulled up to her building, and the driver double-parked.
Flynn was beyond grateful for her therapist because she was no longer the shaking mess she had been only minutes ago. God bless that woman.
Flynn had only known how to bottle things up and cover them with bravado, sarcasm, or attitude with a side of profanity. Now, she actually felt better instead of helpless. A welcome change.
The driver opened the door, and Flynn stepped out, also thankful it was a warm spring night and not the depths of winter.
“I can take it from here,” she said, sliding a twenty into his palm.
“Mr. Q wants me to see you inside, so I’ll see you inside, miss.”
He held out a hand as they stepped over the curb and up to the plate glass doors of her swanky Fifth Avenue apartment building.
“Ms. Elliott,” the doorman said with a touch to the brim of his hat before he reached to open the door. “Everything all right this evening? You’re back early.”
“Everything’s fine, Gerald. Just making an early night of it. He’s seeing me into the lobby.”
“Glad to hear it.” Gerald’s arm stretched along the gold bar of a door handle. “Have a good night, Ms. Elliott.”
“Thanks, Gerald.”
The driver walked her to the elevator bank and pressed the call button.
“Thank you so much, sir. I can take it from here.”
“Yes, ma’am. Have a good evening. I’ll tell Frankie to let Mr. Q know you made it inside safely,” he said before turning and walking away.
Flynn watched him leave with her mind on Q masterminding her early exit from the club.
Tonight totally didn’t go as planned.
As the elevator dinged and slid open, she stepped inside the empty gold car and pressed the button for her floor. With arms crossed, she leaned back as the shiny gold doors slid shut.
“I see you, Flynn. I can’t unsee you.”
A warm tingle shivered through her.
Maybe impossible things can happen.
As she made her way to her apartment, Flynn remembered what he’d said. “I want a wife who loves me and our kids.”
Flynn had always wanted a family of her own. Babies to love, who would love her and need her in return. A husband who smiled when he came through the door and saw her. She would have never guessed that Marcus wanted anything like that.
A smile tugged at her lips.
Maybe dreams do come true.