5. Foster
FOSTER
The tiny pizza restaurant is buzzing, as it’s packed with people grabbing a bite after work.
There are some tables, high-tops with stools along the window, and a counter to sit at to oversee the kitchen.
After ordering at the register, we managed to grab two spots overlooking the sidewalk, with the traffic lights at the corner, watching people huddle in their coats because it’s a nippy cold outside.
“I knew this was coming.” I laugh as we wait for our order.
Sutton has a gorgeous smile after she laughs. “What?”
“Oh, you know full well.” She shrugs her shoulders and plays it cool.
“I let you pick the deep-dish pizza, and you choose pear, gorgonzola, and walnut. It almost feels like an insult to the creator of Chicago pizza. It’s too refined.
Should have gone old-style, or you could live on the edge and do Buffalo Chicken. ”
“Sorry, Mr. Boring. I thought a sophisticated pizza might fit well with the occasion.”
“Which would be?”
“Not quite in the office, not quite in private.”
I give her a knowing look. “You wanted to order in.”
“But then I realized deep dish is best direct from the pan, and I’m not messing around with breaking that tradition,” she justifies with humor.
I can’t stop grinning. Sutton is a breeze.
Unexpected. I never know what she’ll say or do, but it always makes me smile.
She isn’t quirky, just unafraid to be herself.
She may have a mental checklist for her career, but she’s easygoing—stress-free in life.
I need people like that. The office isn’t always a walk in the park, and the family ultimatum has been weighing on me more than I’d like.
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ve eaten here a lot.”
“Really? Don’t have a cook at home waiting for you?” she teases me.
“Nah, only a housekeeper who stops by during the week. I would much rather explore what the city has to offer. Chicago is a food city. I travel a lot and have obscenely long days at the office, so life is easier to grab a bite somewhere or order in.”
She nods in understanding. “I can see that. I’m the same way during audits.”
“You don’t seem to be someone who gets stressed out,” I note.
“I’m lucky that way. Nothing causes you stress if you decide to control it. If we’re analyzing each other, I’m sure you’re the same. Things might piss you off, but I doubt you'll let them affect you as many would.”
My eyes widen at her observation. “That’s a fair point,” I say. She’s right. “But from what I’ve seen, you’re always composed in the office. Me? I’ve been fiery a time or two.”
“Or maybe four or five,” she corrects me with a smirk.
“Only a few weeks in and you’ve heard rumors about me?”
“Would it matter? You don’t care about those things.”
“I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
We both create space when a member of the kitchen staff arrives with our giant pizza in a skillet and a pizza knife.
“Here’s your order,” she announces and sets the pizza down, and she doesn’t even look at us as she is too busy looking over her shoulder at the kitchen.
It’s the kind of place where the food is so good that they can get away with prickly manners.
She zooms away, and Sutton and I drop our sight to the food that is sizzling hot.
Her eyes blaze open as she studies what’s in front of her. “This is going to take some divide and conquering.”
“Yeah, normally I end up taking the leftovers home. Then they sit in the fridge too long because I always forget they’re there. My housekeeper hates me for that.”
“Unattended doggy bags are a crime, ya know.” She tries to cut, but the melty cheese stretches out. I grab a small plate, but the cheese gets everywhere.
“Screw it,” I say. “Should we just attack the pizza with a fork and knife while it’s in the dish?” I suggest.
She smiles at me. “Totally uncivilized of us, but yes!”
As we get to work on eating and the first bite hits my taste buds, I’m more curious about Sutton. “So what do your parents do?” I grab a napkin from the dispenser.
She takes a moment to answer, finishing her bite. "They were teachers. My dad taught math at the middle school; my mom taught second grade."
“A man of numbers.”
She cuts into another piece. “You? Didn’t want to follow the family tradition?”
My eyes follow our forks and knives as we cut and spear food, pausing to think. I could give her the answer I’ve repeated for years, or I could try to be honest. She’s earned my trust since we met; that’s why I won’t bullshit her.
“The company has been in the family for over a hundred years, since my great-grandparents came to the US. That's why the portfolio is mostly made up of historical buildings. I don’t see it as a financial concern. My grandmother and mom said buildings carry a story. I wouldn’t know how to be responsible for that, especially since my interest lies in innovation. ”
She rests her head against her propped elbow while she listens attentively. “I love the thought that a building is a story. But transport logistics has been around forever.”
My head tilts slightly. She’s right. “But technology has advanced so much now. Plus, Haven Crossroads offers a broad portfolio; you can move between sectors, depending on your mood. And honestly, I don’t want to mix family with business.
Too many disagreements could ruin my relationship with my dad. ”
“Not many people can stand up for that realization.”
Sighing, I choose to take the praise in stride. “I’m not going to sugarcoat things. Anyhow, corporate law? What’s the story?”
She lets out a short laugh. “Simple. Family law is too intense. A divorce lawyer takes joy in hourly billing at the end of a love story. Actually, I considered real estate law. Almost bit the bullet on it, too. But corporate law felt safe, to be honest. More contracts, every now and then a bit of bite, a chance to dip your toes into any field. So here I am.” She spreads her hands out.
“I’ve noticed.” It almost causes her to blush, which is kind of cute, but I’m not going to tease her about it. “Satisfied with your pizza choice?” I fill my mouth with the warm mix of dough, cheese, and pear.
“I am. The balsamic drizzle is a nice touch,” she declares proudly. “Should hit a Pilates class tomorrow, or just save that health kick for the new year. Option B sounds better.”
“Trust me, I haven’t noticed any sign that you need to go on a health kick.”
"Oh no, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. We should search for tiramisu or coconut cream pie, but we have other plans. I try to stay healthy and active because of my back, since I’m always behind a computer. This is probably when you admit you have a masseuse who goes the extra mile."
I chuff out a laugh. “You don’t hold back. I may have someone on call but rarely use it—for a massage,” I stress. “Absolutely no to the extra mile. Let’s get back to, what was it… other plans?”
Her smirk twists into pure seductiveness, and my own face must show that I’m intent on following through with my earlier warning that I might be dangerous around her if alone outside of the office.
“No point dancing around it,” she says candidly.
“There isn’t,” I concur.
“So…” Her lips smack then press together, and her sight drops slightly when I bring my fingers to skate along the back of her hand resting on the table.
I watch my fingers make purposeful moves—touch her, give the signal, wrap up dinner, and get out. “Sutton,” I say, voice rough. Her name hangs between us. Maybe she enjoys it as much as I do. Using a name can say a lot. Here, I need my dominance to be clear. We’ll do this my way.
Her lips part slightly, and her breathing is visible as a smile shades her face.
“Last call. We go our separate ways, or we don’t.”
“I would be wise to point out that technically, our project is almost complete, and we can keep things separate. But the chances of another project happening where we need to collaborate are very high.”
“I want to collaborate with you,” I quip, and she breaks out in a tiny laugh.
“And I am a believer in getting things out of my system. That will only ensure things are smooth going forward,” she explains confidently.
“You want to commit a terrible idea with me?”
“Yes,” she gasps.
My fingers drop from her hand, and my back straightens as I push the pizza away from us. “Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We don’t waste time and swiftly stand and slip our coats on while another couple waits by, ready to pounce on the spot opening up.
I quickly send a message to my driver to pick us up.
Briskly, we walk out of the place, and the winter air hits us instantly.
My arm hooks around her middle to pull her tightly to my side in an effort to clasp on to any attempt of warmth, but also to touch her and give the signal to any man walking by that Sutton is taken, at least for tonight.
“Your driver will be here soon? Because it’s freezing.”
In a flash, I grab her hand and pull her with me to the corner of a small alley to my left, then press her back against the brick wall. “Then let’s fix that right fucking now.”
The air crackles between us. The city’s noise fades to a distant hum, even though we’re right in its heart.
For a moment, it’s only us. The streetlight spills just enough glow to catch her sly, daring smile.
I slip my hands to her waist, slide my leg between hers, and feel her fingers clutch at my coat.
Not. One. Single. Ounce. Of. Hesitation.
I claim her mouth with mine. There’s nothing rehearsed about it, yet our kiss fits together like it’s been years in the making.
Her lips are sure, hungry, nothing hesitant.
I savor her, drawing out the kiss until Sutton murmurs, kissing me like she wants to devour every secret I have.
When I finally pull back, I nip her bottom lip, playful and possessive.
This kiss is anything but innocent—it’s a spark that ignites possibility.