Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
TIME STOPS.
The sight of him is devastating.
Here, the reality of him is even more striking. The man in sweats sitting by the pool, the intimidating lawyer who pulled James off me… this Matthew embodies both, with an added layer of power.
He’s wearing a dark navy suit, cut to accent his broad shoulders and lean frame. His light grey tie is loosened slightly, his brown hair neatly styled. But it’s his intense jade eyes, unguarded for a fleeting moment, that hold me captive.
He looks…
Surprised?
But then, a different expression flickers across his face.
Appreciation.
His gaze sweeps my dress, my hair, my face… a slow smile spreads across his lips.
The blue folder grows heavy in my hand. A flimsy shield against the heat in his gaze. I force a brittle mask of calm onto my face, but my pulse hammers in my ears.
After a curt nod to the hostess, Matthew takes a step toward me, and my world narrows.
He reaches out, capturing my hand. I expect a handshake, but he turns my palm over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine.
The warmth of his lips.
The firm pressure of his fingers.
The sharp intake of my own breath.
A thrill shoots through me, my grip on the blue folder loosening, my purse slipping in my left.
“Please allow me,” he says, taking the folder and purse to place them on the empty seat beside him.
Then, with a hand light on the small of my back, he guides me to the chair across from his. It’s a table for four, but with only two place settings, directly facing each other.
I sink into the plush teal chair he pulls out. A murmur of ‘thanks’ is all I can manage. I’m off balance, reeling from the unexpected gesture and his proximity.
Matthew moves with easy confidence.
I shouldn’t stare.
I should be thinking about the precarious future of my café.
Instead, I’m caught watching him settle into his seat. How his hands move as he adjusts his cuffs. The way his hair falls slightly across his forehead. He loosens his tie a fraction more. A subtle gesture, but it drags my eyes to the strong column of his neck.
His eyes catch mine, a slight smile playing on his lips, and the bottom drops out of my stomach.
Focus, Amy.
Focus.
“Beautiful view,” I blurt out, turning to the window, trying to regain a little control.
The dark water of the lake stretches out before us, its horizon defined by a long line of twinkling lights. Drawn by his prolonged silence, I risk a glance back. Those deep greens are fixed on me. He seems caught off guard for a brief moment.
He gives himself a quick, almost imperceptible shake and clears his throat. “Yes,” he agrees, his voice a little rougher than before. “It’s one of the best views in town.”
“I didn’t even know this place existed,” I admit.
“Really? I’m surprised your fianc—” He stops himself, cutting off the word abruptly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Sorry,” he says a little too quickly. “Not my business.”
My cheeks burn, but I play it cool. “No, it’s okay,” I reassure him with a small wave of my hand. “James is very loyal to The Sterling.”
A little too loyal, I think, picturing the dark, opulent, all black and gold interior of that place. It is a far cry from the understated elegance of this restaurant.
“Of course, The Sterling,” Matthew repeats with a gruff, curt chuckle. “How about you?”
“Me?” I frown.
“What do you like, Amy?” He leisurely studies my features with a soft smile.
I blink, startled.
With James, it’s always about the right look, the most popular place, never really about what we like, let alone what I like.
I press my lips into a tight line as I fidget with my engagement ring. “It’s more about the who than the where for me,” I reply after taking a moment.
He tilts his head, his eyes softening in silent encouragement.
“I’ve sat in the simplest places with some remarkable people. And I’ve sat in some remarkable places with the simplest people.” I shrug.
A beat of silence hangs between us, filled only with the quiet hum of the restaurant. Then, as if the words are pulled from him against his will, he murmurs, “Why James?”
“Excuse me?” My eyes widen.
Before Matthew can say another word, a waiter approaches our table. “Good evening,” he says with a professional smile. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I won’t be staying,” I reply, earning an unimpressed look from Matthew.
“Cocktail or wine, Amy?” he asks, ignoring what I just said.
“Neither,” I insist.
“I should let you know that the bartender here tonight makes the best martinis,” the waiter interjects.
Matthew orders, raising two fingers, “Two vodka martinis, three olives in each. Thank you, Josh.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Warren—”
“I’ll have a glass of Merlot,” I interrupt.
Josh sends a quick glance at Matthew before repeating, “Alright. One vodka martini and one glass of Merlot. And I’ll return shortly for your food order.”
“Thank you,” we reply in almost perfect unison.
Josh retreats, leaving us glaring at one another.
Matthew breaks first. “Why are you so worked up over such a simple question?”
“Simple question?” I repeat.
“Technically, yes.” He shrugs.
I cross my arms and turn to the window, finding it hard to believe we’re even having this conversation right now.
“Why can’t you just answer the question?” Matthew presses on.
My eyes snap back to his. “Just because you saved me from an angry James in my office doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about us.”
“It’s really not a complicated question,” he counters.
“Oh, don’t give me that lawyerly bullshit, Matt,” I retort.
He doesn’t react immediately, holding my gaze with an unreadable expression. Then, leaning back in his chair, he nods ever so slightly, as if acknowledging a worthy opponent. “Then stop skirting the question, Amy.”
“You know you’re not gonna get a declaration of love for James from me. It’s not that simple,” I frown, confounded by him pressing such a deeply personal issue. “Bottom line? My love life is none of your business.”
“Love life,” Matthew repeats with a hint of annoyance.
Just like the shrill of the final bell in a wrestling match, my phone starts ringing.
Matthew picks up my purse and hands it over. He’s putting me on the spot, so I can’t ignore it. I pull out my phone, my stomach dropping at the sight of James’s name flashing across the screen.
I press my lips together, steeling myself before answering with as neutral a ‘hello’ as I can manage.
“Mimi, baby,” James’s unbearably loud voice explodes down the line, along with the noise on his end.
I instinctively move the phone away from my ear. Self-consciously, I trail a hand across my forehead, my gaze glued to the napkin in front of me. Matthew’s eyes weigh on me, heavy and undeniable.
Bringing the phone back to my ear, I answer as quietly as I can. “Where are you?”
“Listen, baby, I can barely hear you. The boys dragged me to the club. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. You know how they get—”
“That’s fine,” I cut him off. “Just—”
“Don’t wait up for me, okay,” he continues to yell, and I’m forced to move the phone away again.
“Okay, bye,” I say without bringing the device back to my ear, and hang up.
Knowing I’ll have to face the fallout eventually, I sigh and look up at Matthew, dropping the phone back in my purse. “Well, there’s your answer, loud and clear,” I say, sliding my chair back.
“Amy…” My name sounds more like a plea.
“No. This,” I say, gesturing sharply between us, “clearly has nothing to do with helping me save my business.”
I rise to my feet. Matthew rises with me.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Please sit.”
“Thank you,” I reply, shaking my head. He’s busy fishing out his cellphone. “It’s okay. Really. I’m gonna go.”
“Read this,” he says, blocking my escape with his arm, holding his phone out. “Take it.” He nudges the device closer.
After a moment, I hesitantly take it. It’s a message from Bancroft:
Busy day Warren. It’s simple. I can get paid triple her monthly rent for that space. I want her gone. No headaches. No money. Get it done.
I look up.
“I am here because I want to help,” he says. “Please.” He gestures for me to sit.
I hand back the phone and retake my seat.
“I have your drinks,” Josh announces, approaching our table. “One vodka martini for you, sir.” He places Matthew’s drink in front of him.
“Perfect timing,” Matthew mutters.
“And your Merlot, miss.” He smiles as he puts my wineglass in front of me. “Do we need more time with the menu?”
“Yes,” Matthew answers for the both of us.
“Not a problem, I’ll return in a few.”
As soon as he leaves, Matthew raises his martini. “Clean slate.”
I give in and touch my glass to his. “Clean slate.”
We sip from our drinks. The quiet hum of the restaurant fades as we hold each other’s eyes over the rims of our glasses. I savor the richness of the wine, trying to ignore the way my hand still trembles.
“How did you know I would show up?”
He swirls the toothpick of olives as he considers my question. “Because I know you won’t let it go without a fight.”
“It was entrusted to me.”
“You purchased it like any other interested party would have done,” he states.
“But she chose to sell it to me. Mary could’ve gotten a lot more for it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Maybe in your world, everyone is out to get one another and money is the ultimate ruler. But there are still people who are less money-driven and more compassionate.”
“Well, your Mary is a one-of-a-kind businesswoman, because your own fiancé is putting money above all else. Not to mention that thing.” He points with disdain at my engagement ring.
“How can’t you see this isn’t about James?” I try, but fail to keep the frustration out of my voice. I take a long sip of my wine.
“Sorry, I got carried away.”
“I don’t think you did. I think it’s on purpose,” I argue. “And I get it. Believe me, nobody wants to end this”—I hold up my ring finger in his face, brandishing it like the middle finger—“more than I do.”
For the first time tonight, Matthew shrinks a little in his seat.
“I just can’t let him take it all. He’s taken enough.”
Matthew takes his time studying me through hooded eyes. “Fuck it.”
“I’m sorry?” I blink rapidly, shaking my head.
“Finish your drink. We’re getting out of here.” He raises his hand, signaling Josh. “Josh, the bill.”
Josh hurries over. “You won’t be dining with us?”
“Another night, maybe. We have somewhere we need to be,” Matthew replies.
“I’ll get your bill,” Josh concedes.
“Where are we going?” I ask as soon as he’s out of earshot.
“Somewhere simpler.” A soft smile touches Matthew’s lips.
“Simpler,” I repeat. I can barely comprehend anything other than the fact that he heard me.
Really heard me.
“Drink up, please,” he urges.
I down my wine in bigger gulps than I normally would. A warmth spreads through me that has more to do with the man watching me than it does with the wine.
He finishes his martini even faster, the olive pick clinking softly against the glass as he sets it down.
Matthew settles the bill with a few quick words to Josh, not even glancing at the check.
“Shall we?” he asks, barely contained excitement lighting up his face.