Chapter Eleven
“You promise this guy is better than the last?”
Theo sighed, passing her a warm cardboard coffee cup.
“I promise, sunshine. He’s a decent lad.
His name is Mason Ducrot. Twenty-nine years old, has three sisters and is currently practising medicine as an A Olivia was just surprised he had actually bothered to read it. “Well, yes but…”
“You want help finding your leading man? Well, who knows what she wants more than the leading lady?” Theo suggested, pulling the wide glass door open.
Olivia glanced at the lush interior of the store.
Individually lit rows of garments and bags lined the walls, a broad security guard standing in each corner of the room.
. Two art decor bean-shaped seats were situated in the middle of the shop, their crisp white fabric something she would be worried to go near for fear of staining it with the blue dye of her jeans.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the store. “Theo, you have strange but wonderful ideas.”
“Thank you, sunshine. Now get inside, you’re letting all the warm air out.”
The dress she had picked was a vibrant red.
The sweetheart neckline was something out of a dream, and its soft fabric floated down to just above her knees, a slit teasing the glowing, freshly waxed flesh of her thighs, her heels completing the look.
When she had come out of the dressing room, she swore Theo gulped, turning away from her with maroon-tinted cheeks.
From his reaction, she knew it was the one.
The dress she would wear to charm the butt off Mason Ducrot.
She had almost had a heart attack at the register, however.
Theo brushed it off as though it were pocket money, when in reality she had made less money than the price of the dress during the first print run of her first novel, and that had hit number one of the literary charts for six consecutive weeks.
Now, as she sat in Veritas, the fanciest restaurant she had stepped foot in in a long time, across from her next potential leading man, she couldn’t help but notice how her shoulders were pulled back, smile wider than normal as she felt herself embody her heroine.
Not only was the dress practically a million bucks, but it made her feel that way too.
“I’ll have a bottle of your finest red, please.” Mason spoke politely to the waiter.
They had come to the restaurant a mere twenty minutes prior, and he was already checking things off her list. Holding the door open for her? Check. Kissing her cheek in welcome? Check.
“Whenever I come to these places, I like to splurge a bit,” Mason said, his eyes shining as the waiter retreated from the table.
“When in Rome, right?” Olivia laughed. “Or should I say, when in Veritas.”
Mason let out a laugh at her poor joke, tucking his napkin beneath the table.
“So, Theo tells me you’re a doctor.”
“That would be correct. I work as an ED doctor, so it’s very unpredictable.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s also very rewarding though. I get to help people every day, and although some don’t make it, I try my best to provide the best care I can to everyone who comes through the ED doors.”
“What made you want to be a doctor?”
He didn’t respond and she was about to repeat the question when the waiter approached their table once more, a bottle of red in his hand and a pearl white cloth hanging over his forearm.
They watched as the waiter poured both of their glasses, before he placed the bottle between them and asked for their food orders.
She opened the menu, scanning the cuisine. Mason’s dismissal of her question did not go unnoticed but she put it down to the interruption of the wait staff.
Salmon. Caviar. Steak. It all seemed luxurious, and utterly out of her budget. Various French dishes lined the page, the descriptions giving little idea to what the dishes contained. Deciding on her meal, she turned towards her date.
“She’ll have the salad, and I’ll have the steak, please,” Mason interjected.
If there was one thing Olivia hated more than a well-done steak, it was a man ordering for her at a restaurant. For some, sure it could be seen as a romantic gesture, but to her, it screamed misogyny.
“Actually,” Olivia turned to the waiter and gave a small smile. “Could I have the salmon, please, with a side of broccoli.”
“She’ll have the salad,” Mason repeated to the waiter before sending another smile her way. “You’ll have the salad.”
The waiter shuffled from one foot to another.
“I’m sure the salad is really nice; however, I will be having the salmon.” Olivia gave a thankful glance at the waiter and watched as the poor guy skittered away faster than any waiter had before.
Mason scoffed, picking up his glass of wine. “A chef in Cook’s Gazette said in an interview that this place has the best steak in north London. I’ve tried a few in my time so I’m curious to see how it is. The best was in New York.”
Olivia swerved the conversation around her dinner selection by instead jumping at the side topic of travelling.
She had never been to New York. From the few pictures of the large skyscrapers and huge billboards she’d seen, she was sure it would feel similar to being a speck of dust on the windowsill.
Everything was larger in America, that’s what Hannah had said when she’d tried to convince Olivia to expand to a US audience during her younger author years.
Now she had her books on sale and proudly distributed across the United States of America as well as the United Kingdom.
“So, have you travelled quite a lot then?”
Mason hummed. His mousy brown hair falling over his eyes in thinning strands.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve travelled a lot. My family moved over from the US, so I have some ties there.
I have ventured over to Tokyo, though, it’s amazing there.
The culture is so rich, and the sushi is, as expected, next level. ”
“I love sushi, give me some good ol’ sashimi and I’m a happy gal,” Olivia joked.
After that, the evening went smoothly. Mason ate his steak, offering her a bloody piece of the raw meat for her to try halfway through the meal, to which she politely declined. Olivia ate her salmon, and they shared a sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Everything was going really well.
He held the door open for her, and she clasped her hands over the tie of her coat as they entered the cool evening air of London’s nightlife.
The restaurant they had gone to was fancy – much fancier than any other she had been to in quite a while, and when the waiter handed the bill over to Mason in a smooth leather booklet, she noted how his eyebrows rose slightly as he sighed and placed his credit card in the reader.
“Well, I had a lovely evening, Rachel. Thank you for a magical night.” Mason spoke confidently, giving her a small smile.
At first, she thought he was thanking the wait staff, but once she clocked that he was looking directly at her, she was unsure how to continue.
Surely he remembered her name; they had been within each other’s company for the past two hours.
Olivia decided to brush it off with a sharp smile.
“You too, Mason.” She spoke politely.
“Would you like to do it again sometime?” Man, he really was trying his luck.
“I’ll call you.” She made the empty promise without a single thought.
“Wow, I’ll have to message Theo and say thanks. You’re definitely a ten. Any chance I could get a goodbye kiss?”
The thought of kissing his lips made her stomach churn. If there was one thing her leading man needed to be it was courteous enough to remember his date’s name. Kissing was not something she wanted to do. This was just research, and like her novels, completely fiction.
“I have to get home, but it was great to meet you.”
“Ah, not the type to kiss on the first date?”
“Well, I’ve got to keep some kind of mystery, don’t I?”
“Night, then Rachel, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Mason turned and walked towards a row of taxis lining the street. Opening the door of the first one, he slipped into the car without even so much as a last glance.
“Yeah, night.” My name’s not Rachel, Olivia thought, as she tightened her grip on her purse before turning and walking down the rain-covered street.