Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
BLAKE
Ilean against the edge of my desk, but it does nothing to steady the weird churn in my gut—like I've just jumped off a ledge without checking for a net first.
The office feels too quiet now, the hum of the city far below muffled by the thick glass. I rise to my feet and can’t believe how nervous I am, my heart thudding a little too hard against my ribs as I pull out my phone again, thumb hovering over the screen like it's some kind of bomb.
Inviting us on their date night? What the hell was I thinking?
I can’t believe though that me, the guy who closes multimillion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat feels this off-kilter over a simple dinner, but here I am, pacing to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the Hudson glittering under the afternoon sun, the water choppy with ferry wakes, while my mind races.
Asking her out makes me feel exposed, like peeling back a layer I didn't know was there, vulnerable in a way I haven't been since. .. hell, maybe ever.
I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window. I check the phone again, even though it's only been a second since I sent the text. The words stare mockingly back at me.
Casual?
Yeah, right, like anything with her feels casual anymore, not after the way she's been slipping under my skin, making me crave these moments that feel weirdly stolen.
As if the clock will strike twelve and she will turn back to the cold, manipulative bitch she was before she came back from her surgeries.
No response yet. The wait drags. Each second stretching as I watch a barge crawl along the river below, my reflection faint in the glass—tie slightly loosened, jaw tense.
Vulnerable, that's the word that keeps circling, like admitting I want this night out to expose how much she's got me hooked, how I'm not in control like I used to be.
Then the phone buzzes in my hand, the vibration of it jolts through me like electricity. I swipe it open fast, heart kicking up as her reply pops up:
Sure, sounds fun. What time?
Just that, simple and agreeing, but relief floods me so hard. I lean heavily against the window, as excitement bubbles up underneath. I feel like a kid getting a yes response to a first date. Ridiculous but undeniably wonderful. I type back quickly:
7 at La Grande Boucherie in Midtown. I'll meet you there.
As I press send, it hits me harder. I'm in more trouble than I realize. This isn't just an attraction anymore; it's deeper, pulling me in ways I can't ignore, making me want to chase this feeling, this version of us that's alive and electric.
I glance at the clock on the wall. Still a few hours to kill.
I wonder if I should head home to change, swap this suit for something more relaxed, but I have a ton of work to do.
No, better to stay put, ride out the time here, finish as much work as possible.
I sink back into my chair and try to focus on the emails piling up.
Time crawls, each minute ticking slowly on my watch.
The office empties out gradually. My mind keeps drifting back to her.
I keep thinking of the way she laughs, open and genuine, nothing like the cold smiles from before.
Finally, 6:30p.m. rolls around. I grab my jacket, and with my nerves buzzing under my skin, I head down in the elevator.
I arrive at La Grande Boucherie right on time, the restaurant's grand entrance on West 53rd glowing under string lights, and the facade of ornate brass and glass is like a slice of Paris dropped in Manhattan. The hum of conversation spills out as a doorman nods me in.
Inside, it's warm and inviting. The high ceilings have intricate moldings, and velvet banquettes in deep reds line the walls. A massive chandelier casts its golden glow over tabletops set with crisp white linens. The air is rich with the smell of cooking garlic and herbs from the kitchen.
Jason and Sarah are already at the table—a corner booth with a view of the bustling bar. They stand as I approach, Jason extending a hand with a grin, his tie loosened like he's ready to unwind.
"Blake, so glad you could make it. Sarah, this is my boss."
Sarah smiles warmly as we shake hands. She is wearing a simple black sheath dress and a string of pearls around her neck. "Pleasure to finally meet you. We've heard so much."
We settle in, and the server pours water into crystal glasses.
The conversation flows; business deals, the latest merger talks.
Jason dives into details about the tech acquisition from earlier.
His voice is animated over the low jazz playing from hidden speakers.
Sarah listens, then chimes in during a lull, her eyes sparkling as she sips her Chardonnay.
"This dinner feels extra special tonight," she says, leaning forward a bit, her tone light but genuine.
"I've never had a real conversation with your wife before, or even seen her up close, except from afar at company events, or in those society page photos.
She's always seemed so... elegant and unreachable. "
I force a casual smile, but inside, something tightens. Unreachable, yeah, that's one way to put it. But wait till you see her now with all these changes I can't pin down. I don't respond much, just murmur. "She's something," and take a sip of my scotch and glance toward the door.
She chooses that very minute to walk in. Whoa! My heart skips a beat.
She is wearing a red mid-length halter neck dress that makes her look crazy hot.
The fabric is like liquid silk, and it clings to her curves with devastating effectiveness.
She is wearing red lipstick, and her hair is loose in waves down her neck and shoulders.
I can’t stop staring at the smooth skin of her shoulders.
Everyone at the table goes still, stunned and silent for a beat.
Sarah's eyes widen and Jason's jaw slackens before he catches himself.
"Jesus," Jason mutters under his breath.
Sarah smacks his arm lightly. It's a playful swat that breaks the tension, laughter rippling around the table as she rolls her eyes. "Behave," she teases, but her smile is genuine.
Me? I can't take my eyes off Carolyn. Heat surges through me, hardening me under the table as she approaches. God, she's stunning.