Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maren
“How was your second day at your new job?” Arietta asks innocently as she pats Dudley’s head. “I didn’t think you’d beat me home today.”
I shift my gaze back to the screen of my laptop. “I’ve been home for hours.”
I hear the shuffle of Arietta’s sensible shoes against the floor as she approaches me. “Did something happen? Did you get F. I. R. E. D?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Why did you spell that?”
She lets out a heavy sigh as she drops her purse on the couch next to me. “I don’t know. To soften the blow, maybe?”
“I still have a J. O. B.” I smile. “Keats took the day off to take care of his sick niece, so he told me to go home.”
“Is she okay?” Concern settles in Arietta’s expression.
I’ve never met anyone as empathetic as her. On the odd day I get a migraine, Arietta has a headache within the hour. She feels other people’s pain deeply, maybe too deeply.
“He didn’t sound concerned on the call.” I glance at the screen of my laptop again. “I’ll ask for an update on his niece when I meet him for dinner.”
I know better than to toss information like that at Arietta with no other explanation, but I know her reaction will bring a smile to my face.
“Wait. What?” She lets her hair down from the tight bun she wound it into this morning. Her golden locks bounce around her shoulders as she shakes her head back-and-forth. “Are you going on a date with your boss?”
“If you had the chance, you’d go on a date with your boss,” I counter.
Ever since I briefly met Dominick Calvetti, I’ve teased Arietta about him. His face and body should be plastered on a billboard, advertising cologne, or expensive clothing. He’s gorgeous.
Arietta always scoffs when I mention his name. I can tell by the grimace on her face that she’s about to tell me he’s not her type. “You know I don’t like him, Maren.”
“You love him, “I singsong. “Arietta Calvetti. How perfect does that sound?”
She playfully presses her hands to her stomach. “I think I may vomit.”
I snap the cover of my laptop shut. “Aim for the floor.”
With a laugh, she drops on the couch next to me. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you going on a date with Mr. Morgan?”
I set my laptop on the coffee table. “It’s a business dinner. He’s meeting a potential new client. It’s a baseball player. I was just researching him.”
Her gaze volleys between the closed laptop and my face. “What are you going to wear to this business dinner?”
I trail a finger over her shoulder. “I was hoping I could borrow your outfit.”
The corners of her lips curl up. “I know you’re teasing.”
I am. Arietta’s ensemble of the day consists of a yellow dress that’s at least two sizes too big and a purple cardigan covered in red butterflies.
“You should wear that red lace dress you bought last month.” She jumps to her feet. “And your red strappy heels. They make your legs look ten feet long.”
“Do I want that?”
“You’re a model without a runway, Maren.” She darts her hands to her hips. “I’ll do your makeup.”
That’s an offer I won’t turn down. Arietta has serious makeup application skills for someone who only wears the bare minimum of mascara and pale pink lipstick.
I move to stand. “You don’t think the red dress is too much for a business dinner?”
“It’s perfect. It’s sophisticated with a hint of sexy.” Her hand tugs on a lock of my hair. “There’s something about a redhead in a red dress that drives men wild.”
Tilting my head, I perk a brow. “I’m not trying to drive any men wild tonight, Arietta.”
She laughs. “Do you expect me to believe that, Mrs. Morgan.”
“Touché,” I say with a muted chuckle. “That will never happen. Keats Morgan is a handful.”
Her gaze narrows. “Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s very bad.” I point toward the hallway. “It’s time for me to get ready. Work your magic.”
I’m early for everything. I always have been.
When I was in second grade, my dad would walk me to school thirty minutes before class was scheduled to start so I could be first in line once the bell rang, signaling the start of the day.
I don’t fear being late, but I believe there’s value in always being on time.
People appreciate it when you’re punctual, so I made sure I left my apartment with more than enough time to spare. I didn’t want to be even a second late to my first business dinner with Keats.
I left Dudley in Arietta’s care with a promise that I’d bring her back something decadent for dessert.
In the envelope that contained my contract, there was a business card for a car service. I’m permitted to use them as long as the trip is related to work. I considered calling them tonight, but that seemed like a lot of trouble to get from Tribeca to Greenwich Village.
I hopped on the subway before I walked the last block to Nova.
I skim my hand over the skirt of my red dress as I approach the restaurant’s entrance.
This isn’t my first time here. My dad decided he wanted to celebrate Father’s Day with a meal fit for a king, so I booked a table for three.
It was one of the best dinners we’ve ever had.
The food was a close second to the company.
I love spending time with my parents. Our relationship has always been close, but there’s been a gradual shift as I’ve grown up.
I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but I consider them the two most important people in my life, even though they keep asking if I have a boyfriend.
I smile at a man in a black suit greeting people at the door. He grabs the handle and swings it open for me. “Welcome to Nova.”
I grin back. “Thank you.”
I survey the interior of the restaurant. It’s busy. People are seated near the bar, and from my vantage point, it looks as though every table is occupied.
Panic strikes me as I suddenly wonder if I was supposed to book a reservation. I look at the text Keats sent me earlier to double-check that I didn’t miss anything.
“Maren Weber? Is that you?”
I wince when I hear the voice behind me. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell that Christian Knott is here.
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
“That’s her, and she looks incredible.”
The second voice has a rasp to it that sends a pulse straight through me. I shouldn’t react to it the way I do, but Keats has a voice that can send goose bumps trailing up a woman’s arms.
It’s happening to me right now.
“I’m Keats Morgan,” he says from behind me. “Who are you?”
I turn to face them both because there’s no denying that I can hear their conversation.
“I’m the man who may be persuaded to give Maren a second chance.” Christian chuckles.
Jerk.
Since we’re standing in the entrance to a crowded restaurant, I keep that comment to myself. Shaking my head, I clear my throat.
Keats looks at Christian as if he’s studying his expensive suit and perfectly styled brown hair. “You’re an idiot.”
Christian’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”
Keats steps closer to me. I’m hit with the masculine scent of his cologne. Or is that him? Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating.
“Did you call me an idiot?” Christian’s voice jumps in volume.
“I did.” Keats nods his head. “You had a chance with Maren and blew it. That’s an idiot move.”
I realize what’s happening immediately. Keats thinks I was involved with Christian. Ew. Just ew.
“We never.” I reach for Keats’s forearm. “Christian wasn’t my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. He fired me.”
Keats’s gaze scans my face. “He fired you?”
I nod. “Last week. It was the day I found Dudley.”
The corners of Keats’s mouth curl up in a sexy smile. He turns his attention back to Christian. “My mistake.”
“Are you sorry you called me an idiot?” Christian smirks.
Keats lets out a laugh. “I had it wrong. You’re more of an asshole than an idiot. If you’ll excuse us, we have a reservation.”
Christian’s hand lands on Keats’s shoulder. “You think I’m an asshole?”
Keats swats Christian’s hand away with his own. “I know you are. I doubt like hell there was anything Maren did to warrant termination.”
Christian takes a step back. Unease settles over his expression. I know that look. Keats hit a nerve. “That’s between Maren and me.”
Keats crosses his arms. “Fair enough. Your loss is my gain.”
“She works for you now?”
“She does,” Keats answers curtly.
Christian huffs out a laugh. “Good luck with that, man. You’re going to need it.”