Chapter Seventeen
Zade
It’s been two weeks since I last saw Juniper up close.
Two weeks of watching her from a distance, feeling the cold shoulder she gives me every time she spots me in the hotel.
Every time I catch sight of her, it’s like she’s got this force field around her, this invisible wall that screams, “Stay away.” She’s tough; I’ll give her that.
Stubborn too, like trying to get through a brick wall with a butter knife.
But this? This has gone on long enough. I’m done playing this game of cat and mouse.
I’m the cat, and it’s time to catch the mouse.
I arrive at the hotel earlier than usual, taking the elevator down from my suite.
The lobby is still quiet, with just a few staff members moving around, getting ready for the day.
My mind is buzzing, and no amount of coffee is going to calm it.
It’s ridiculous how much space Juniper is taking up in my head, like an annoying song you can’t stop humming.
But that’s not something I’m ready to admit out loud.
As I stride into the lobby, my eyes immediately lock onto her.
She’s wearing this short, flowy dress that barely reaches her knees, with those high boots that make her legs loo k incredible.
There’s no way she’s working in that. She’ll change into her kitchen outfit when her shift starts.
But right now, she looks too damn good for me not to call out her name and head straight for her.
“Juniper, wait,” I call out. My voice cuts through the silence of the morning. She halts, her back stiffening, but she doesn’t turn around. Fine, if she wants to play it that way. “We need to talk.”
She stands there for a moment, her posture tense, before finally turning halfway, just enough for me to see the annoyance in her eyes. “I have work to do, Zade,” she replies, her tone cold as ice. She’s already moving towards the kitchen area, as if she’s eager to escape me.
But I’m faster. With a few quick strides, I step in front of her, blocking her path. She glares up at me, that fire in her eyes blazing brighter than ever. “No, we really need to talk,” I insist, not backing down an inch.
Her jaw tightens, and she crosses her arms over her chest, her body language screaming defiance.
“Zade, I said no. I don’t have time for this.
” Her voice is firm, but there’s an edge to it—a hint of something she’s trying hard to hide.
Maybe it’s fear, or maybe it’s just anger.
Either way, she’s not going to make this easy.
I suck in a breath through my nose. It doesn’t help much. “Just hear me out.”
My voice comes out steadier than I feel. I shift a little, trying not to come off pushy. “How about tonight? We go out. Not a drive-thru or some half-plan. Like, a real date. You deserve that. Right?”
Her eyes widen in surprise and she freezes. Her hands go still on the cup. For a second, I think I see something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe, or interest—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. She shakes her head, her arms tightening around herself like a shield. “No.”
I can’t help but smirk at her defiance. It’s one of the things that draws me to her. “Why not? You work hard, Juniper. You could use a night out.”
Her gaze flickers around the lobby, clearly aware of the eyes watching us.
Her colleagues are starting to take notice, their curiosity evident as they glance our way, whispering among themselves.
She shifts uncomfortably, obviously hating the attention.
“This is ridiculous,” she mutters, her eyes darting everywhere but at me.
“Think of it as a way to unwind,” I suggest, stepping a bit closer. My tone drops to a low murmur just for her. “And don’t worry; I promise not to bite. Unless you ask nicely.”
She looks torn, her resolve visibly wavering.
I can almost see the wheels turning in her head as she weighs her options.
She knows that saying no again would only drag this scene out longer, and with everyone watching, she’s clearly not in the mood for more drama.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she bites her lip—a nervous habit, I’ve noticed—and gives a small, reluctant nod. “Fine. One date. Just one.”
“There we go,” I say with a grin, unable to hide my satisfaction. “You won’t regret it. I ’ll see you at eight.”
She nods again, then turns on her heel and walks away, her steps a little quicker now, like she can’t wait to put some distance between us.
I watch her go, feeling both excited and proud.
Tonight, I’ll finally get a chance to break through that tough exterior of hers and see what lies beneath all that armor she’s built around herself.
The hours crawl by until it’s finally eight o’clock.
I’m waiting just outside the staff entrance, leaning casually against the wall, my eyes flicking to the kitchen door every few seconds.
The place is still busy—staff moving in and out, guests chatting as they pass through.
The lobby has that low hum of activity, but my mind is focused on one thing.
Then, the kitchen doors slide open, and there she is.
Juniper steps out, wearing the same outfit she had on this morning, and even in the middle of all this chaos, she stands out.
Her hair is a bit tousled, probably from the day’s work, and she’s not wearing any makeup—just her natural beauty shining through.
There’s something refreshing about it—no pretense, no facade.
She looks a little nervous, her eyes darting around as she approaches me, and it only makes her more endearing.
We head to the hotel’s restaurant, an upscale spot with dim lighting and a cozy atmosphere that’s perfect for an intimate dinner.
The place is elegantly designed, with soft music playing in the background—the kind that you feel more than hear.
As we walk in, I can see she’s uneasy, her movements a little stiff, and her eyes taking in everything like she’s preparing for some kind of ambush.
I find it oddly endearing the way she’s out of he r element, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
“Relax, Juniper. It’s just dinner,” I say, pulling out her chair for her. She hesitates for a moment, then sits down, still looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“I’m not very good at this,” she admits, her voice low, almost a whisper, as she fidgets with the napkin in her lap.
“Good at what?” I ask, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“Dating,” she says, her cheeks flushing slightly as she avoids my gaze. It’s a small confession, but it tells me more than she probably intended.
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her honesty. “Why do you say that?”
She sighs, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “I’ve never really been on a proper date before,” she confesses, and I can tell it’s not something she enjoys admitting. There’s a vulnerability in her words, a hint of insecurity that she’s trying hard to hide.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I reply, keeping my tone light, not wanting to make her feel more uncomfortable than she already does. “Let’s just enjoy the evening.”
The conversation starts off awkwardly, with her hesitating over her words, her fingers playing with the silverware as she tries to find something to say.
I try to keep things smooth, throwing in a few jokes, but it’s clear that she’s not used to this kind of situation.
She’s tense, like she ’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But as the night progresses, something shifts.
Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s just that we’re both starting to relax, but we fall into an easy rhythm.
Our banter becomes more natural and playful, with a few flirtatious comments thrown in here and there.
There’s a spark between us—something electric that neither of us can ignore.
It’s like we’re both seeing how far we can push before the other pulls back.
The food is incredible—rich, complex flavors that melt in your mouth; each dish is a work of art.
She’s more relaxed now, smiling more, even laughing at some of my jokes, though she tries to hide it.
At one point, she drops her fork, her hands trembling slightly.
I pick it up and hand it back to her, our fingers brushing for a brief moment, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact.
“Here,” I say, giving her a reassuring smile. “No need to be so nervous. As I told you before, I don’t bite.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles, taking a sip of her wine, her cheeks flushed, and not just from the alcohol.
After dinner, we walk through the hotel lobby.
The soft lights reflect off the marble floors, giving everything a warm glow.
She stumbles slightly on the carpet near the elevators, and I catch her arm to steady her.
The warmth of her body against mine sends a jolt through me, and for a moment, we just stand there, looking at each other, feeling the attraction.
“You alright?” I ask, my voice softer than usual and my eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort .
"Yeah, I just had a bit too much to drink,” she says with a nervous laugh, her cheeks pink from more than just the wine.
“Let’s get you somewhere comfortable. My suite?” I suggest, my tone light, but there’s a seriousness in my eyes that she can’t ignore. I’m not just offering her a place to rest—I’m offering her a chance to trust me, to take a step closer to something neither of us fully understands yet.
She hesitates, her eyes flicking up to meet mine, and I can see the uncertainty there—the fear of what might happen if she says yes. But there’s something else too—something that pulls her towards me, even as she tries to resist it.
When the elevator doors close, the small space suddenly feels much smaller. She leans against the wall, her eyes dazed, and her breathing is a little uneven. “Zade, why are you doing this?”