42. Rian
Forty Two
Rian
“Ihope you have an exciting night.”
I do a double take, expecting to see the hostess from The Bureau, but the server who has left a bottle of complimentary champagne at our table is a male who just chose the same wishes as were given to Catriona and me a couple of weeks back. God, is it only a couple of weeks?
“Santé.” Alexandra raises her glass and stops me from counting the days I’ve had with the ice queen.
“Sláinte.” I counter Alexandra’s French with Irish, and she laughs quietly and lowers her gaze to the table.
The press had a field day when we entered the building.
They were out in force for the reopening of one of Dublin’s most exclusive restaurants and must have thought it was their lucky day when spotting the Calla heiress.
She looks nothing short of radiant in a satin sea-green dress that complements her eyes, and jewellery that twinkles brighter than the chandelier above us.
I just hope I don’t appear too clearly on the photos.
“Isn’t it funny.” I nod towards the bottle when the silence stretches. “People who have money get free stuff.”
“Um, yes. It’s unfair, isn’t it.” She appears uncharacteristically tense, and our conversation doesn’t flow any better during the first two courses of the tasting menu.
I try to flirt with her to lighten the mood, but it’s forced.
With an audience, I can always go a bit over the top, fake and pretend.
Play a role. With just the two of us, I feel like I should be sincere, which isn’t easy.
“So, is everything set for the barbeque on Friday? Gazebo up, caterers hired? Enough booze ordered?”
Alexandra’s shoulders drop at my work-related question. It’s safe ground.
“All set. The weather forecast is good, so hopefully we get to have the firework display. We had to cancel it last year.”
“Yes, so I heard.” I chuckle.
“Is everyone from your office coming?”
I tense. Everyone but Catriona.
“I believe most people are, yes. After all, it is the event of the year.” I hesitate for a second, my fingers tapping soundlessly against the black tablecloth. “Why now, Alexandra?”
“Why now what?” she asks and tilts her head to the side. Her shiny, light brown hair tumbles over her shoulder.
“Why did you want to go on a date with me now? You turned me down only a few weeks ago.”
Her shoulders hike back up, and her gaze fixed on her glass.
“It’s about time, don’t you think? We’re not getting any younger.
” She takes a deep breath through her nose and meets my eyes.
“Lately you’ve seemed a little aloof, and I was wondering if maybe I had rejected you too many times, that you’d lost interest.”
Guilt spreads like a fungus through my chest at the same time as my heart constricts. I haven’t misinterpreted Alexandra’s intentions. This is it.
“I guess work has kind of taken over my life,” I mumble apologetically.
“Yes, I know all about that. I approached Dad again about transferring to another department.” I nod, remembering our talk on the yacht.
“As usual, he didn’t really listen to me.
But he did say…” She takes another deep breath, and for the first time tonight, there’s a spark in her eyes.
“He said there may be a possibility that the two of us could start up our own joint section of Calla and KSS. That would get both of us out of our fathers’ hair! ”
My brows furrow. “He said that?”
I doubt my own father has been involved in this plan. I can’t see him wanting to give me such autonomy and responsibility.
I even doubt that Alexandra’s father is serious. Maybe Walter Harrington is using this as a way to keep Alexandra in tow – to stall her constant requests for more challenging work? Maybe he’s even using it to rush Alexandra into moving things forward with me?
It dawns on me that this date isn’t because Alexandra is ready for me. It’s her rescue plan to get out of the sticky situation with her dad.
Does it really matter what the reason is? We were always going to end up together one way or another. Yet it doesn’t sit right with me.
“I have another question,” I say as the waiter places the dessert in front of us – some intricate sheets of chocolate, infused with berries and colourful cubes of sponge. Alexandra smiles politely, patiently waiting for me to continue. “Why did you break up with me?”
To my surprise, her cheeks flush, but she still holds her head high.
“Mother talked me into it.”
“Pardon?” I’m confused. I’ve never got the impression that Nora Harrington has anything against me – in fact, it’s been quite the opposite.
“She um… She told me that because we got together so young, chances were that we wouldn’t last in the long run.
She persuaded me to end it so that we could live, explore and experiment.
” She pauses as something passes over her face.
“And then, when we’d lived out all the lusts and curiosities that might have broken us up as teenagers, we could get back together and settle down. ”
I’m so stunned my jaw goes slack.
Okay, I admit it makes sense – maybe I would have been tempted by other women while my teenage hormones were raging.
Or maybe the years when I lived abroad would have broken us.
But still, that Nora was instrumental in the scheming of our break-up, to ensure we would end up together, it’s hard to take.
I huff – I could just as well have strings attached to my puppet arms.
“Rian?” There’s a crease between Alexandra’s eyebrows. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her worried before. It’s a true emotion, and she seldom shows those.
“I was heartbroken.”
“So was I.”
I see the same hurt in her eyes as I know she sees in mine. What can I say? There’s nothing to say. I sigh and take a spoonful of dessert. With a lopsided smile, I point at the plate with my spoon. “This is good.”
Alexandra doesn’t argue when I suggest calling it a night after dinner. We don’t say much as we sit next to each other in the back of the car, the driver navigating smoothly through the evening traffic down to Alexandra’s Ballsbridge home.
Once outside her limestone building, I walk her to the door, as a good date.
But every step is heavier than the next.
Am I really doing this? I ask myself. I try to block out the world and Catriona.
My heart is hammering in my chest for all the wrong reasons as I place my hands on Alexandra’s bare upper arms and trace up her smooth skin until I’m cupping her face.
And I do it.
Leaning down, I brush my lips over Alexandra’s in a soft kiss.
I step back. There’s a twinkle in her eyes and her mouth is tilted in an amused pout.
“What?” I raise my eyebrows and try to add humour to my tone. “Were you expecting me to take you home and fuck you on our first date?”
She laughs quietly and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Something like that,” she replies, though she doesn’t seem too disappointed.
I scoff. “Not all the rumours you hear about me are true, you know.” I wonder if she’s heard rumours about my kink preferences.
Alexandra is far from judgemental, but I doubt she’ll approve of such behaviour from her husband – and she’ll for sure not want to partake.
My stomach drops. Yes, my kink will have to be culled.
Alexandra tilts her head to the side. “And what rumours do you hear about me?”
“I don’t.” My reply came automatically, and I don’t know if it’s an insult or not. I can’t remember any rumours about her. As I watch her walk into her building, I wonder if it’s because there are no rumours or because I haven’t asked anyone about what’s happening in her life.
Maybe to protect my feelings from hearing about her and other men? Or because I don’t really care?
Restlessness sets in when I’m back in the car. The lack of tension and want between us. Maybe it’s something that will come, a solid, intimate relationship that will build as we get to know each other that way.
A very vanilla relationship.
Fuck…