19. Mary
Chapter 19
Mary
The interior of the restaurant is intimate yet sophisticated, with dimmed lights casting a warm glow across the plush seats and marble tables.
A grand piano stands in one corner, with a pianist playing jazz melodies that drift through the air like smoke. Waiters glide past, their movements fluid and graceful as they deliver drinks and dishes.
Everything here feels designed to impress. Even the cutlery gleams in the candlelight. I would love this for one of our hotels.
“Beautiful place. I’ve never been here before,” I say.
“Good.” Connor guides me further inside at the small of my back. “I wanted to take you somewhere special.”
‘Special’ is an understatement.
“Your table’s ready, Mr. Milton.” A server gestures for us to follow .
Connor offers his arm in a gentlemanly gesture I didn’t know he had in him. I hesitantly accept, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt, and we follow the server through the restaurant.
Is this what it would feel like to be someone’s girlfriend? Connor’s girlfriend? Mary Milton. MM. Has a nice ring to it.
“Here we are.” The server gestures to a table tucked away in a quiet corner of the restaurant.
“Thank you.” Connor nods at the server, who bows and then disappears. “Blue.” He releases my arm and offers me the chair.
“Trying to impress me, are you?” I settle into it.
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
Connor’s attention shifts away, and I resist the urge to turn and see what or who has captured his interest.
Ugh. I follow his eyes and spot a beautiful blonde walking toward us. She’s dressed in a black dress, hugging her hourglass figure, with a diamond necklace and earrings to top it off. However, it’s not her appearance that unsettles me, but rather her familiar smile directed at my date.
“Are you expecting someone else to join us?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. She’s an old friend who owns this place, and I want to say hello.”
“Sure. Take your time.”
I watch him walk over to her. Of course. I shouldn’t have gotten ahead of myself. Mary Milton, as if .
The menu. I can already pick something out, right? Foie gras terrine, lobster bisque, steak tartare…
I spy over my shoulder. They’re chatting, though it seems more business-like. Maybe I overreacted.
The server returns. “Are you ready to order?”
“Just a few more minutes, please.” I force a smile.
He nods and slips away.
First Miss Accounting and now her. How am I supposed to keep up with these women?
No. You know what? He’s mine. I kick my chair back and march over to them.
“Oh, hello,” the blonde says brightly. “Connor was just telling me about you.”
“Was he?” I fix my gaze on him.
“Mary, this is Claire. She owns this restaurant.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Claire extends a manicured hand.
I shake it. “Likewise.”
“I was just saying you two make a darling couple.”
My cheeks flush. “Oh, we’re not…”
“Thank you.” He winds an arm around my waist in a possessive hold. “I’m a lucky man.”
Claire smiles. “I’ll let you two enjoy your evening.”
With a parting wink, she sashays away.
I start to withdraw, but Connor’s arm tightens, keeping me anchored to his side.
“She thinks we’re a couple. Why not keep up the pretense just for tonight? ”
“I thought she was flirting with you.”
“Flirting? No, we were just discussing business.” Connor’s fingers caress my waist. “You’re the only one I have eyes for. How could you think I was flirting with her?”
“I-I don’t know. It was stupid.”
“Nothing you’re feeling is stupid. I want to know when you feel like this.”
“I tend to overthink things sometimes. It’s just… I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
I chance a glance up at Connor. His expression is inscrutable, but his focus remains wholly on me.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. Might as well be honest if we’re going to move forward. “Most guys I’ve dated have either been completely self-absorbed or just wanted me for my last name. But you...”
“I what?”
“You actually seem to care.” I give a little self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not used to that. It makes me second guess things.”
Connor is silent for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low and intense. “I do care. More than you know.”
“Yeah…” Does he really or am I falling into a trap without knowing?
“This doesn’t do.” Connor drags me behind a pillar, caging me against it.
I glance around, but no one seems to notice .
He tuts in disapproval, tilting my chin toward him. “Eyes on me, Blue.”
I look up.
“Do you want to know what flirting really is?”
“No need. I already know.”
“I don’t think you do.” His voice drops an octave. “Flirting is me paying for your lunch, so I have an excuse to ask you to dinner.”
His other hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. I’m helpless, my traitorous body melting into his.
“Flirting is me kissing you the first moment I saw you.” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Flirting is me standing this close, teasing you while you get soaking wet for me.”
I whimper in response. No one has ever spoken to me like this before and normally I would be disgusted, but Connor… He is the exception to everything. Always has been.
“Flirting is me whispering in your ear how I want to watch you come undone beneath me while you scream my name.” His fingers dance across the nape of my neck. “How I want to bury my head between your thighs and lick your sweet p—”
“Enough!” I shove him back, my whole body trembling. Connor smirks at my reaction, clearly pleased with himself. “I get the picture.”
“Do you?” He stalks forward, caging me against the pillar once more. “Because I can give you another demonstration if you’d like. ”
“No!” I hold up my hands in surrender, my pulse racing. “You win. I’m hungry. Let’s just eat. Please.”
Stepping back, Connor offers me his arm. I take it on autopilot, letting him lead us back to our table. By the time we’re seated across from each other, I’ve managed to regain an ounce of composure.
He plucks the menu. “So, what will you have?”
“Whatever you recommend.”
Connor calls over a waiter and proceeds to order a multi-course meal, including a bottle of red wine.
My favorite.
There’s no need to ask him how he knows because he is so definitely stalking me.
Once the waiter leaves, Connor fixes me with a piercing stare. “Let’s circle back to the self-absorbed dates you had.”
“Interesting first topic for a date.”
“Need to know what I’m competing with.”
“As if you don’t already know. Or did my stalker grow a conscious?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
He knows but still doesn’t mind hearing it from me again?
“Like I said, most have been utterly disastrous. Stuck up assh—men that my mother insisted on setting me up with.”
“And I’m different?”
The waiter appears filling up our glasses with the ordered wine .
“You’re certainly not boring.” I take a sip. “My family has been trying to marry me off for years. It’s refreshing to go on a date that isn’t… orchestrated.”
“I’ll take ‘not boring’ and ‘refreshing’ as a good sign.”
“Don’t get too cocky. You still have a way to go before you beat the guy who spent our entire date writing messages to some other woman and asking me for flirtation advice.”
His eyes flash as he observes me. “Well, then, I’ll be sure to give you my undivided attention tonight.”
I shift under the scrutiny, suppressing a smile. “You’d better.”
The waiter returns, balancing two plates of the same entrees. My mouth waters as I take in the sight.
Succulent scallops nestled on top of a bed of spinach drizzled with a creamy sauce.
“Enjoy.” The waiter disappears back into the kitchen.
I pick up my fork, spearing one of the plump scallops. The creamy sauce drips down the tines as I lift it to my mouth. I close my lips around it, savoring the rich, buttery flavor that melts across my tongue.
When I glance up, fork poised for another bite, I find Connor’s eyes fixed on me, like I’m some puzzle he’s trying to solve. His own fork hovers above his plate, forgotten.
“What?” I ask after swallowing.
“Admit it, you can’t stand the thought of me paying attention to another woman. ”
“You’re delusional.” But his words spark an unexpected pang in my chest. I hate that he’s right—I did feel irrationally possessive at that moment.
Connor just continues regarding me knowingly, clearly seeing through my facade.
“Okay, fine.” I huff. “Maybe I was a tiny bit annoyed. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“I should be flattered. It’s cute.”
I scoff. “Were you like this in school as well?”
“I used to drive my teachers crazy, finishing assignments in a fraction of the time it took everyone else. They’d give me extra work to keep me busy, but I always ended up wandering off in my head.”
“And computers? My dad said you started early.”
“Did he?”
“He’s quite the fan.”
“Good to hear.”
That smug grin again.
I roll my eyes with a huff of laughter. “I doubt your ego needs much stroking.”
“You’d be surprised. But feel free to continue. I’m certainly not complaining. Especially when it comes from you, Blue.”
I blush at the nickname. Hopefully, the dim light hides it. “In your dreams, Milton.”
His voice drops an octave. “You have no idea.”
“Keep your fantasies to yourself.”
“Oh, I intend to.” His eyes lock onto my mouth. “For now. ”
My heart pounds as I stare at him. I know that look. I’ve seen it before, felt the burn of his eyes on me as his hands and mouth worked their magic. Heat pools low in my belly at the memory, and I clench my thighs.
“My dad bought me my first computer when I was eight.” Connor twirls his wineglass by the stem. “Old desktop running Windows 98. I was hooked from the first moment. I learned everything I could, experimented, tested limits of firewalls and networks.”
I laugh softly, imagining little Connor hunched over a bulky monitor in a hoodie and cargos.
“What sparked your interest, though? Why computers?”
He shrugs. “I guess because it was unfamiliar territory, unexplored land ripe for discovery. Plus, video games... who could resist those?”
“Of course, video games. And your father supported this interest?”
“He didn’t really understand it, but he recognized my talent.” His expression turns distant. “Bought me books, software, whatever I needed. Even let me set up a server at home for me to play with. He wanted me to have opportunities he never did. Taught me everything he knew, even helping me land my first tech job as a teenager.”
“He encouraged you.”
“Yeah, he did.”
A wistful ache rises in my chest at the thought. What might my life have been like if my own mother took an interest in my passions rather than molding me to fit her expectations? Maybe I would have pursued dancing or singing.
“What about your mother?” I ask.