Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
R eid
Miss Starling has done a damn fine job of avoiding my constant glances in her direction throughout this dinner.
She’s also barely spoken a word, but I blame that on Randall because he can’t shut the hell up. He’s given every person at this table a glimpse into his past. Only his bride-to-be seemed captivated by all of the boring details, and even she seemed to lose interest when Randall got around to talking about why he wasn’t chosen for valedictorian in high school.
The reason was simple. Sandra Christensen was a hell of a lot smarter than him. I recall the night he got the news that he wouldn’t be stepping up to the podium at graduation to give the twenty-three-minute speech he’d been writing for months.
We were both just shy of our eighteenth birthdays at the time. Donovan bought us a six pack of beer so Randall could drown his sorrows and I could take it all in from the sidelines.
“This steak is to die for,” Charlotte says something we already all know since she ordered for everyone.
I would have preferred the sea bass, and I could tell by the disappointed look on Miss Starling’s face that she was also in the mood for something from the surf side of the menu as opposed to the turf, but Charlotte took the reins.
I should have stepped in and insisted everyone order what they wanted, but Randall was gushing so hard over his fiancée’s impeccable taste in food and men that I rolled my eyes and went with it.
I’ll pay for this meal because that seems like something a best man would do, but I’m circling back here soon for the sea bass.
From what Charlotte said after her third bite of steak, she’s due back here with my assistant early next week so they can sample entrees for the wedding. That was supposed to happen tonight, but Randall blew up that plan when we showed up unexpectedly. The restaurant was prepping a sampling for two people, not four, so the staff was quick to reschedule that and pivot to a dinner service for our table.
“It’s good,” Evangeline chimes in.
“It’s a hell of a lot better than a hot dog,” I add to see if I can snag a second of my assistant’s attention.
It works like a fucking charm.
She looks at me, and lo and behold, there’s a small grin on her lips.
The woman has indulged in three glasses of champagne and a steak dinner, and yet, her lips are still the same alluring shade of red that haunts my dreams.
Haunts my dreams?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I push my champagne flute away because I’ve obviously reached my hard limit for the night, even though I’ve only taken a couple of sips.
“Who wants dessert?” Charlotte asks although I suspect she’ll order whatever she wants for all of us, regardless of what we’d prefer.
“Not me,” Miss Starling answers, shaking her head. “I need to get home.”
I know firsthand she lives alone and has no pets. I only know that tidbit about my assistant since I overheard her tell Natasha a few weeks ago that she hopes to own a dog one day. Apparently, her current landlord has a strict no-pet policy.
Perhaps my assistant’s need to get home is more of a want. I can’t blame her. I want this evening to end now, too.
“Really?” Charlotte whines. “Can’t you stay just a little bit longer, Evie?”
“I can’t, Lottie,” Miss Starling drags that nickname for Charlotte across her tongue like it’s done her wrong.
Charlotte sends her a half-assed smile. “That’s too bad.”
“I’ve had a very busy week.” Miss Starling sighs heavily, not glancing my way, because I’m the guy responsible for that ‘ very busy week .’
I have no interest in hanging out alone with Charlotte and Randall, so I wave a hand toward our waiter, who is standing near the entrance to the kitchen. “I need to get home, too.”
Miss Starling glances at me. “You do?”
If home is a bar with top-shelf vodka, I do. My apartment offers me nothing but a place to rest my head and store my clothes and watches.
“I’ll call my driver,” I offer because I can’t wait to see the expression on her face. “We’ll drop you at your home first.”
I’ve never seen someone look completely shocked and so fucking beautiful at the same time.
“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s no need for that, Mr. Hunt.”
Randall laughs. “It’s Reid, Evie. You’re not in the office now, so drop the formalities.”
As Miss Starling glances my way, she bites the corner of her bottom lip, sending my pulse racing.
No. No. No.
I have worked damn hard not to let my desire take control when I’m around her. I’ve won that battle for over a year, but watching her chew on her lip that way makes me want to do the same to it.
I spot the waiter on the approach, so I suck in a breath of rose-scented air, which does fuck all to crush the growing need inside of me.
I yank out my wallet again and shove my credit card at him. “Close the bill out when the happy couple leaves. I think they’ll be indulging in dessert.”
Reaching for my card, he nods. “You won’t be staying, sir? You’re missing out on the best chocolate mousse in Manhattan.”
“Chocolate mousse?” Charlotte croons. “Evie will love that. Chocolate was her favorite when we were sampling cakes for the wedding.”
I save that fact to memory since it feels important.
“I’m stuffed.” Miss Starling leans back in her chair, once again giving me a bird’s eye view of the top of her tits. “I’m passing on dessert, too.”
I punch out a text message to my driver. “The car will be here shortly.”
“Thank you for the offer of the ride.” Miss Starling takes a deep, audible breath. “I can get home on my own.”
“I insist on taking you.” I lower my voice. “It will give us a chance to talk about the wedding.”
I have zero intention of talking about the wedding. I do want to talk about what transpired tonight including the boss from hell comment.
“I guess a ride can’t hurt. Thank you, Reid.”
That sends my gaze up to her face because, goddammit, that’s the best my name has ever sounded. It doesn’t strike me in the same way as the first time she said it. Hearing it fall from her lips this time hits different .
“I’ll swipe this for you,” the waiter says to Miss Starling’s breasts as he waves my credit card in the air.
“Now,” I suggest in a stern tone. “Evangeline and I are leaving.”