Chapter 25
“Maneater” - Nelly Furtado
Maeve
It’s taken me a full week to orchestrate tonight’s blind date, because after the stunt Pierce pulled at dinner with my parents, I had to completely scrap my original plan and start over.
Forget a date with the American heiress with a Southern drawl who’d be sure to get under his skin.
No, tonight will require pulling out all the stops.
I momentarily considered hiring a hitwoman to take him out during the meal, but I’m afraid it would be too easy to trace back to me. Besides, it’s much more fun to play with your food than to eat it.
Both dates are to take place at The Glasshouse, a rooftop restaurant with floor-to-ceiling windows and panoramic views of the city skyline. I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend my Saturday night than watching Pierce St. James squirm through an entire meal.
As obsessed as I was with orchestrating all the details of his evening, I managed to forget about the fact that he has also planned a date for me.
Now that I see the man waiting at the host stand, my stomach churns with dread.
He’s average-looking, if you like faces that are instantly forgettable and impossible to pick out from a crowd.
A bit stocky for my tastes, but I’m determined to find something redeemable about this guy before the night is over.
After all, the person who has the most fun wins, and tonight’s victory will be mine.
“Hello,” I say, pasting a giant smile onto my face as I approach. “I’m Maeve.”
The man shakes my outstretched hand, lingering too long on the release, and my queasiness level rises. “Austin.” His grin reveals even, white teeth, so at least there’s that.
We’re ushered to our table, and I walk too fast for him to put a hand on my back. He looks like the type who would try, regardless of the fact that we just met.
I spot Heath and Walker as soon as we walk into the dining room.
Walker gives me a small wave and an apologetic smile.
Rhett and Saylor are sitting at the bar, where they have a view of the whole room.
Saylor nudges him when Austin and I walk past, and I shoot them both annoyed looks.
Lux and Slate’s table is on the far side of the room.
Lux grins widely, and I subtly flip her the bird.
Slate simply glowers, but that’s nothing new.
I don’t see Pierce and his date anywhere, which means I’ll get to watch them walk in together. Resisting the urge to clap my hands in delight, I take the chair the host has pulled out for me. Our table is set with a bud vase of orchids, sparkling glassware, and polished cutlery.
The sommelier comes to take our wine order. I happen to know that this place carries an exceptional 1945 vintage that isn’t listed on the menu, but before I can request a glass, Austin makes a big show of tossing the drink menu onto the table.
“Hey, mate,” he says to the server, whose brows flicker ever so slightly. “I’m looking for your most expensive bottle.” He inclines his head as though sharing a secret. “I have a date to impress.” Then he tosses a wink in my direction.
I can feel my lip curling in disgust, and it’s then that I catch a glimpse of Pierce and his date walking into the room.
Slapping a sugary smile on my face, I fold my hands together, elbows on the table, and gaze at Austin like he’s the universe’s blessing to women—a sentiment he evidently shares—and order the nausea to stay put.
“Tell me about yourself, Austin,” I say after the sommelier leaves, my voice pitched extra high. My guess is he likes women who squeak.
As he begins regaling me with details of his life I would rather scratch my eyes out than listen to, I distract myself by watching Pierce and the woman I chose for him settle in at their table.
He’s in a light gray suit with a dark blue shirt and no tie, a maddeningly striking combination.
Damn him for choosing something that looks good.
I don’t miss the fact that he’s taken the chair that gives him a view of our table. Apparently, he fully plans to enjoy tonight’s shenanigans as well. His eyes snag on mine, and my heart snags in my chest. There’s a challenge in those dark shadows. The thought of it makes me shiver.
Turning my focus to his date, I do a quick appraisal of her appearance.
She has dressed exactly the way I hoped she would when I scouted her online.
She’s wearing some kind of gauzy kimono thing that definitely should be against the restaurant’s dress code, a pair of gladiator sandals—disgusting—and gigantic hoop earrings strung with colorful beads.
Her long blond hair hangs loose and reaches the seat of her chair.
I hide a smile behind my hand as I return my gaze to Austin.
“Do you own cryptocurrency?” he says, tearing off a hunk of the bread on the table and shoving it into his mouth.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly through my nose. “No, I don’t.”
“Mm, you should.” He gestures with his bread. “Crypto is the future.”
I force a smile and take a sip of my wine.
It’s not terrible, but not nearly as good as the one I wanted.
“I’m happy with my own investments, but thanks for the advice.
” Remembering that all of my friends are watching, I do my best to give him a genuine smile.
“I’d love to hear more about it, though. ”
That ought to keep him busy for the next ten minutes. All I’m required to do is smile and nod occasionally, which allows me plenty of time to watch what’s unfolding at the next table.
Pierce must look like he’s enjoying himself to the casual observer—one arm resting on the table, body slightly inclined toward his date, head tilted as though he’s engaged in whatever she’s saying.
But the signs of his misery are there if you know where to look.
The hand that isn’t on the table is on his leg, fingertips white from clutching it so tightly.
The smile on his face is as fake as his date’s name—Celestia.
His right foot is twitching so hard I have to fight the urge to laugh out loud.
As I’m watching, Pierce’s eyes suddenly flick over to meet mine. They narrow ever so slightly, and his smile slips. I feel his gaze in my core, and butterflies start flapping their wings in my belly.
Yanking my eyes away, I try to recall something Austin just said. “A broker?”
“Oh, yeah. Are you familiar with what they do?”
I frown in confusion. “Am I familiar with what a broker does?”
“They help clients navigate complex processes—”
“Austin.” I reach across the table and tap his hand. “I know what a broker is.”
“There are a lot of people who aren’t familiar with the world of crypto, and brokers really help them feel at ease,” he says, as if I haven’t spoken.
I grit my teeth and shoot Pierce another glare, but he isn’t looking.
When our server comes to take our orders, I make sure to get mine in before Austin can assume he knows the first thing about what I want.
“I have another small request,” I say, motioning for the waiter to lean down.
“Can you keep that table over there”—I gesture subtly in the direction of Pierce and his date—“supplied with wine all night? It’s a special occasion for them, and I want them to have a good time.
You can put it on my tab, but let’s keep it between us. ”
The server nods. “Of course, Ms. Wilson.”
I extend my drink to Austin. “Cheers.” We clink glasses, and I allow my smile to bloom fully the way it wants to. Pierce won’t get tipsy—he’s always in control of his drinking, and I’ve never once seen him drunk—but I have it on good authority that his date will get raucous after three glasses.
“Those friends of yours?” Austin asks, but doesn’t even wait for me to answer before relaunching into what I’m discovering is his favorite topic—himself.
Holding back a massive eye roll, I watch as the server stops by Pierce’s table to refill Celestia’s wine glass. Pierce has his phone in his lap, eyes cast down, obviously texting. Rude. I sure hope the others are taking note of the way he’s ignoring his date.
Seconds later, my bag vibrates against my leg at the same time he glances up and meets my eyes. I wait until he looks away before reaching for my own phone.
Pierce: How much cryptocurrency have you bought tonight?
The bastard. I type out a response as quickly as I can to avoid detection.
Me: It actually sounds like a good investment. Thanks for setting us up!
I stick my phone under my leg, hoping no one noticed the five seconds it took me to reply. Austin certainly didn’t. He’s still blathering on about his family’s money. Doesn’t he realize that the first sign of new money is the need to talk about it? God.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I drain the contents of my goblet and reach for the bottle.
Austin senses what I’m after and grabs it from my hand. “I’m actually really good at this,” he says. “My friends call me a sommelier.” He lets out a faux-self-deprecating laugh.
My eyes widen as he refills my glass, then gives an exaggerated twist to the bottle, somehow still managing to dribble liquid down the side.
I blink at my wine, which is much fuller than it should be for breathing purposes, before finally picking it up and taking a large gulp.
Tonight’s drinking will be done in service of intoxication—aka survival—not enjoyment.
Pierce and his date are chatting—or rather, she’s talking and he looks like he’s on the verge of thrusting his steak knife into his own heart. Maybe it’s time to liven things up for them.
I excuse myself from the table and approach the host stand. “Hi,” I say, smiling sweetly. “I was wondering if I can place a special request for the band on behalf of a friend.”