15. Gemma
The host leads me to a secluded corner of the restaurant, where an elegant table for two awaits, draped in a pristine white linen tablecloth.
“Ms. Barron?” He draws back the chair for me to sit.
“Thank you.” Taking my place at the table, I scan the room for any sign of my blind date. Let’s hope this won’t be a total disaster.
My phone buzzes in my handbag, and I pluck it out only to see Mr. Answer Me’s name flash across the screen.
Mr. Answer Me: You didn’t say it’s a date. End it. Now.
Gemma: You are married. Go disturb her.
Mr. Answer Me: Engaged, and I told you it’s fake.
Gemma: Potayto, potahto.
Mr. Answer Me: End your date, or I will.
“Gemma Barron?” An unfamiliar voice appears behind me.
“Yes.” I put down my phone and turn to see a man. Tall, impeccably dressed, and undeniably wealthy, but something about his face already rubs me the wrong way.
“I’m Benjamin. Nice to meet you.” He offers his hand.
“Nice to meet you, too.” I shake his hand. His grip is quite firm.
“I have to say, your photos don’t do you justice.” He sits down across from me, making a show of looking me over.
I ignore the urge to roll my eyes. “Why, thank you.”
“I’ll admit, I was a bit skeptical about this whole blind date thing.” Benjamin waves a hand. “But you’re quite the catch. Maybe we’ll make this work after all.”
His condescending tone sets my teeth on edge.
“So, Gemma, what do you do?” Benjamin signals the waiter for a drink. Straight to business, then.
“I just moved to the city and I’m hoping to get my foot in the door with some of the bigger fashion houses.”
“Hmm?” He blinks. “Fashion? Can’t say I know much about all that. Though I hope you don’t take offense if I question how well that... crafty hobby of yours will serve you financially in the long run. But good for you on chasing your dreams.” He says it in a patronizing tone, as if my aspirations are cute but not to be taken serious.
Asshole.
“Thanks.” I bristle but maintain a polite facade.
“Still, interesting career choice for a woman of your background.”
My back stiffens at the implication. “And what exactly is ‘my background’?”
Benjamin shrugs one shoulder. “You come from money. Most women in your position simply marry well and focus on charity events or something.”
“Been there. Didn’t like it.” I’m not sure if he’s intentionally trying to provoke me or if he’s genuinely that arrogant.
“You didn’t have the right man. You know what they say. Behind every successful woman is a wealthy man.” He winks.
I choke on my drink. “Excuse me?”
“A joke. No need to get your panties in a twist.” He laughs at his own crude remark. The nerve of this asshole!
“What about you, Benjamin? What do you do?” I take another sip of water. One hour. One hour, so my mother is satisfied, and then I’ll leave.
“I went to Yale, and now I work in finance.” Of course. “My firm handles investments for high net-worth individuals and families.”
“So interesting.” I have zero interest in finance or investments. The only numbers I care about are thread counts and stitch gauges.
“It is, yes.”
The waiter brings Benjamin’s drink, fills up my glass with wine and as soon as he walks away, Benjamin leans in. Aren’t we eating something?
“Between you and me, the real money is in real estate. Stocks and bonds are alright, but property is where it’s at for long-term wealth.” He winks as if imparting insider knowledge only he possesses.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“In fact, I closed a new development project last week. Luxury condos right at the park. I can see the commissions rolling in already.”
He prattles on about capital gains and securities while I nod along, already tuning out his self-important description of his oh-so-impressive job and giving the occasional ‘uh, huh’. This guy is so wrapped up in himself that I doubt he would notice if I straight up walked out at this point.
What’s more interesting are the tablecloths here. They have tiny flowers embroidered along the edges. It’s cute. We should get similar ones for our apartment.
I should text Mary and Lil to stage an emergency call for me.
My fingers tap against the side of my wineglass, a dull rhythm to match the droning of my date’s voice. Benjamin, a name I’ll surely forget by tomorrow.
My phone buzzes against the tablecloth. Without missing a beat, I swipe it up and glance at the screen.
Mr. Answer Me: You’ve left me no choice.
I peer up from my phone only to blink at Elijah, who makes his way towards our table and never breaks eye contact. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, ‘I told you so.’
“Evening.” Elijah opens up the button of his suit jacket, stopping at our table. Why does he always have to wear suits and look damn handsome in them?
“I told you not to avoid me. You should’ve listened.”
“Who says I’m avoiding you?” We both know it’s a lie.
“Benjamin, was it?” Elijah addresses my date without so much as a glance at him, his eyes on me. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Benjamin’s eyes widen in shock, hesitating. As Benjamin doesn’t move, Elijah leans down to whisper something into his ear.
My mouth drops open. What exactly is happening right now?
“I totally forgot. I have an early morning tomorrow. See you. No, I… goodbye.” Benjamin scrambles from his seat and scurries away without so much as a backward glance. Of all people, Mr. Elijah Milton has sent my date packing.
“What in the world was that?” I glare up at him, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.
“You can thank me later, my gem.” He takes Benjamin’s now vacant seat across from me. “That guy is a prick, but I don’t have to tell you that, right?”
“I didn’t ask you to intervene. I was handling it.”
“Oh really? You looked bored out of your mind. Besides, I’m a better match for you.”
“He is nice.” I adjust the napkin on my lap.
“Nice doesn’t cut it though, does it?”
“Amazing.”
Elijah raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, what does he do?”
“Finance.”
“Why are you fighting us so much?” He reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. The warmth of his touch makes my pulse quicken.
“Why are you engaged?” I pull my hand back.
“There’s a reason.”
“Yeah? Tell me.” I cross my arms. What possible reason could there be for his engagement to Esther Whitman if he’s here with me right now?
“It’s… complicated.”
A small part of me wants to believe him, to trust the sincerity I see in his striking features. But the larger, more cynical part reminds me of the sting of betrayal, of how easily I was fooled by another charming man’s empty promises not so long ago.
“That’s not an answer.” I place my hand on the table. “You can’t show up here while you’re engaged to someone else and expect me to…” I’m not even sure what he expects from me.
“You deserve an explanation. But not here and not now.”
“When?”
“After our dinner.”
Could he indeed have a valid reason for being engaged to Esther while pursuing… whatever this is with me? I’ve always prided myself on being a good judge of character… before Oliver. Maybe my radar is still off, and perhaps there is more to this situation than I realize.
My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten since the measly salad at lunch.
“Well, I am starving. We might as well eat while we’re here.” I pick up the menu. “But you’d better have one hell of an explanation for all this after dinner.”
Elijah signals for the waiter. “I already ordered for us when I saw your date was a dead loss.”
I place the menu back down as a waiter arrives with two heaping plates of pasta carbonara. My mouth waters at the sight. It smells incredible.
I twirl some noodles around my fork and take a bite. The medley of flavors—salty pancetta, creamy egg sauce, nutty Parmesan—explodes on my tongue. I close my eyes, savoring the taste.
“Good?”
I swallow and open my eyes to find him watching me intently.
“What did you say to him?” I point at Elijah with my fork.
“Who? Benjamin?”
“Yeah.”
The corners of his lips turn up, slow and wolfish. “Let’s say I can be very…persuasive when motivated.”
“Tell me.”
“He’s driving around in his boss’s car. A friend of mine who surely doesn’t know his car is used that way.”
A laugh bursts out of me despite my attempts to hold it back. Elijah looks pleased, raising an eyebrow at my reaction.
“That is wrong.” I school my features into a stern expression. “Blackmail is so wrong.”
“Simple misunderstanding.” Elijah clinks his wine glass with mine.
I take a sip of wine, watching him over the rim of my glass. “So you happen to have connections to his boss?”
“I have connections everywhere.” The intensity of his gaze makes me shiver. “It comes in handy.”
“I can’t decide if I’m impressed or concerned.”
“A little of both?” He grins before taking a bite.
I chew slowly. His boldness is infuriating but also kind of… refreshing. I’ve never met someone who exudes confidence like him.
“Well, don’t make a habit of it on my account.”
Elijah leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. “I’d do about anything for you, Gemma Barron.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks at his words, and I take a hasty sip of wine to cover my flustered reaction.
Get it together. This is a fancy dinner between… friends? Acquaintances? I’m not even sure what we are.
I clear my throat. “How did you manage to find out that I’m here?”
“Simple, really.” He shrugs. “Your brother.”
“Bash?” It shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, right? They are friends if Mary is correct.
Elijah nods. “And I’m disappointed that no one thought to set you up with me.”
“That comes as a shock to you?”
“Indeed.”
“It’s because you’re engaged.”
“Ah, yes,” Elijah says. “That annoying little detail.”
“Little detail?” I raise my hand and point to my own bare ring finger. “This means something.”
“Does it now?” Elijah leans closer, his eyes burning into mine. “I could always take care of that for you, love.”
My cheeks flush, heat spreading through my entire face, and I jolt my hand down. Damn this man and his effortless charm.
I twirl my fork in the pasta, stealing a glance at Elijah as he chews. He’s so confident, so sure of himself. It’s almost intimidating. Almost. Because there’s also that other side of him. The one that is able to unravel me. Kiss me and take me like I’m the only woman in the world for him.
He catches my gaze and raises an eyebrow. “What is it, my gem?”
“Nothing, just...” I can’t tell him that.
“Tell me something about yourself. Something no one else knows,” Elijah says after a moment.
I hesitate, my fork hovering over my plate. “Oh, I don’t know...”
“Come on.”
“Hm… when I was a little girl, I used to dream of becoming a famous fashion designer. I would spend hours drawing sketches and creating elaborate dresses out of whatever materials I could find.” I laugh softly. “Even if it were clothes from my brother. To this day, he still doesn’t know why his clothes had a tendency to vanish. Or maybe he does…”
Elijah chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can only imagine the looks he must have given you.”
“It drove him crazy, but I was relentless. Fashion was my whole world back then.”
“You remind me of someone else.” He swirls his wine glass. His eyes… distant? Who is he thinking about?
“What happened?” Elijah asks. “What stopped you from pursuing that dream?”
My smile fades. “Life got in the way, I guess. Other priorities.” Like my disaster of a marriage to Oliver.
“Your ex-husband?”
“He convinced me it was a silly fantasy, that I’d never make it.”
“That...” A muscle twitches in Elijah’s jaw.
I shrug, trying to brush it off. “It’s in the past. I’m working on getting that dream back, bit by bit. I feel like... I at least owe it to my younger self to try.”
“You shouldn’t have let him take that from you. It’s never too late. You’re talented, driven, and passionate. We would be lucky to have you.”
I nod slowly, his words sinking in. “What?”
“I already told you I want to help you. You should come to my office.”
I study him for a moment. Is he sincere, or is it another way to keep me close?
“You don’t have to pretend to be interested in my dream to keep up appearances.”
Elijah leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “My gem, I assure you, this isn’t some ruse. I genuinely want to help you.”
Does he? I swirl the wine in my glass, watching the deep red liquid coat the sides.
“Look.” Elijah uncrosses his arms. “You need someone or something to give your brand the push it deserves. And I’m offering myself as that person. Someone you can trust. We have a fashion brand under our roof.”
Can I trust a man who’s engaged to Esther?
“Why?”
Elijah’s eyebrows draw together. “What do you mean?”
“You’re engaged.” The obvious fact, he seems to keep overlooking all the time. “To Esther Whitman. Yet here you are, shooing off my date, offering to help me. Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical about your intentions.”
Elijah sighs. “I get why you don’t trust me. But I promise, my offer to help you is sincere.” He pauses. “Your brother trusts me.”
“How did you two meet?”
“Through my cousin and brother. They all went to college together, actually.”
Could he be talking about Connor and Brandon? Are they his family?
“Connor, my cousin, introduced us when he suggested I expand my business interests from the UK to New York. He thought Bash and I would get along. And he was right.”
“Let me guess… My brother is the one who suggested you help me, too?”
Elijah chuckles. “Nothing gets past you.” He reaches across the table, his fingers grazing the back of my hand in a gentle caress. “It was his suggestion, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fully on board with the idea.”
I nod slowly. I suppose Bash’s involvement makes Elijah’s interest in me and my brand less suspicious.
“I’ll stop by.”
“Great, let’s enjoy our dinner.” He takes another bite.
“So, what about you? Tell me a secret no one knows about you.”
“I like to collect rare antique fountain pens.”
“Really? Not what I was expecting.”
“There’s something about the craftsmanship that fascinates me. The intricacy. And, of course, writing with a quality pen is sublime.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a pen enthusiast.” I take the last bite of my carbonara.
“What can I say?” He shrugs. “I appreciate the little things in life.”
“Clearly.”
Elijah lifts his wine glass. “To appreciating the little things.”
I lift my own glass and clink it against his. “I’ll drink to that.”
As I take a sip, I feel a glimmer of something I haven’t felt in a long time—hope. Talking with Elijah has sparked a nearly forgotten part of me. Maybe with his help, I’ll get back to my old self.
“You want dessert?” He points at the menu.
“Oh no. I’m full.” I lean back in my chair, taking the last sip of my wine.
“Good. Grab your coat. We’re going.”
“We’re going?”
“Yes.” He stands up.
“Where?”
“Me telling you why I’m engaged.”