Chapter 22 #2
The waiter returns, and we both place our orders. I opt for a side salad, and. I swear I catch the faintest flicker of irritation cross his face at my choice. Oh well, buddy. You’ll live. It’s not like we’re on a date.
He takes a sip of his wine; his movements are smooth and practiced. The way his eyes stay fixed on me over the rim of his glass makes me resist the urge to shift in my seat.
“So, tell me,” he begins, setting the glass down with a little too much ease. “How has your trip been so far?”
His tone is casual, but the way he asks feels like he’s less interested in my actual answer and more interested in how I answer.
“Actually, it’s been really good so far,” I offer a polite smile. “Scotland’s beautiful. I’ve just been trying to soak in as much as I can.”
His smile widens, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” He swirls his wine before taking another sip. “I imagine it must be quite the change of pace for you.”
I tilt my head slightly, my smile never faltering. “It's been so nice, actually.”
The more we talk, the more I second-guess myself. There’s an ease to his tone now that doesn’t match the controlled, calculated version of him I had pegged in my mind. His charm isn’t over the top, it’s subtle. It kind of sneaks up on you.
Maybe this won’t be the stuffy work meeting I was dreading after all.
We talk about the places I’ve visited so far, and any initial doubts I had about Mike start to fade. Naturally, I leave out the parts about the castle, and Kane. Especially Kane. Instead, I focus on how excited Rachel and I are about the ball, keeping things light.
The second I mention it, his whole expression changes.
“Ah, the masquerade,” he says, smiling. “Now that’s an event worth attending.”
Okay, so this is what gets him excited? Noted.
“You sound like you’ve been before.”
“A time or two.” His lips twitch, like he finds me funny. “It’s a very coveted event… a fundraiser, technically. But it's very exclusive.”
That 'technically' makes me want to ask more questions, but before I can he smoothly pivots the conversation.
He offers recommendations for places we should check out. Some of them are already on our list, but others sound intriguing enough to consider.
He actually knows what he’s talking about, I’ll give him that. His enthusiasm isn’t forced, and the way he describes each spot is almost unexpected.
Our food arrives, and he thanks the waiter with a polite nod before turning his attention back to me. “I’d love to share more places you should check out while you’re here, but you’re on vacation and I don’t want to take up more of your time than necessary.”
I nod, acknowledging the sentiment even if it feels slightly rehearsed. “I appreciate that.”
Despite how weird this meeting started, I’m actually enjoying the conversation.
He’s polished, well-mannered, and there’s something oddly deliberate about everything he does.
It’s not quite arrogance, but a blend of refinement and control, like he was born and bred to move through the world in a certain way.
I noticed how attractive he was the second he scared the shit out of me earlier. But sitting across from him now, I notice there’s something under all that careful composure.
Interesting.
Still, good-looking or not, I’m not here for casual conversation. Time to get back to business.
“Your company has a strong reputation.” I take a sip of water, shifting gears. “What I’d like to know is how you plan to tailor your approach specifically to our brand.”
He leans in, looking at me with an intensity that feels a little too heated. “Our team specializes in customizing strategies to fit the unique needs of each client.”
I can’t quite decide if I find his pitch impressive… or exhausting.
He launches into polished stories of past successes, and every word flows effortlessly. I’ll give him credit, he’s good at this. Flawless, even. But as his well-rehearsed spiel continues, I feel my attention start to drift.
I’ve heard these lines before. Everything is where it should be. The right buzzwords, the right tone, the right examples. And yet, there’s something missing. There’s no spark of genuine passion that would make it all feel real. His delivery is perfect, but perfection has a way of feeling hollow.
I pop a tomato off the top of my salad into my mouth, savoring the burst of flavor. “I'm sorry,” I say, covering my mouth as I chew. “What did you just say?” I swallow quickly. “That tomato was amazing!”
He chuckles, and his dark eyes meet mine with amusement. “I only said, why don’t you tell me what you’re hoping to get out of this?” His voice drops, and I catch a flash of heat in his gaze before he masks it. “That way, we can skip to the good stuff and make the most of our time together.”
He’s smoother than I expected, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a red flag wrapped in a well-tailored suit.
“If I get into bed with you, so to speak.” There's a weight to his voice, like smoke curling in my lungs. “What’s in it for me? I know exactly what I'm bringing to the table, and I’m very clear on what I expect in return.”
Wow.
He smiles, pausing just long enough to let his words sink in before adding, “I want your expertise and your involvement.”
His choice of words gives me pause, and I raise an eyebrow, unsure if I should feel flattered or wary. Okay, so this just took a turn.
It’s bordering on flirtatious, and it doesn’t fit the rigid personality he walked in with. Then again, maybe he’s just trying to drive the pitch home a little harder. Or maybe there’s more to Meathead Mike than meets the eye.
I lean forward, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands, watching him like I’m considering his words. Then, with a slow smile, I deadpan. “Oh, absolutely. I’d be thrilled to offer my expertise. In fact, I’ll even throw in a free tote bag, limited edition.”
The second the words leave my mouth, he stills.
I can feel the way his brain misfires. The shock flashes through his expression before he masks it.
“I like you,” he laughs. “You’re sharp.”
Bet you weren’t expecting that, were you, Mike?
“That’s one way to put it.”
His smirk lingers, but there’s something else behind his gaze now. Time to see just how much he likes being on the receiving end of a curveball.
“Well,” I begin, returning his sharp smile with one of my own, “what you see is pretty much what you get with us. Steven keeps a close eye on his internal team, making sure everyone is aligned and working toward the same goals. Communication is key with him.”
I pause, letting the silence stretch just enough to get his attention. “I do have one question, though,” I lean in slightly. “What’s one decision you’ve made as a CEO that keeps you up at night, and how do you justify it to yourself?”
For a fraction of a second, his mask slips.
He leans back slightly, tapping his fingers against his empty wine glass like he’s considering his next move carefully.
“I don't lose sleep, Raven. Every move I make is accounted for. I don't second guess. I execute.”
He continues, keeping his voice steady. “Every major decision comes with its share of sleepless nights. The key is making sure the wins outweigh the losses.”
Classic. A non-answer wrapped up in a pretty bow.
I mirror his smooth smile, clearing my throat. “Well, as long as you’re confident you can keep up, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
He lifts his water, taking a drink.
“Well, as you know, true success comes from addressing the root of any problem,” he says smoothly. “Once you eliminate that, and build from a solid foundation, you can achieve anything.”
“Interesting,” I nod, absorbing his words. They’re polished, but there’s something about them that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I pop another tomato in my mouth, closing my eyes and savoring the fresh, tangy burst of flavor. When I open them, he’s watching me.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” he mutters, standing up with a tight smile before heading off.
I nod, waiting until he’s out of sight before immediately looking down at my phone. I quickly try to schedule a ride, but there's nothing but the dreaded spinning wheel. Fantastic.
If there's no drivers now, what are the odds I'll find one when we’re actually done? The idea of being stuck here after we wrap up doesn't exactly sound appealing. Not that Mike’s giving off serial killer vibes, but I’d rather not test my luck.
A quick glance down the hallway confirms I've still got a minute.
With a sigh, I decide it’s time to swallow my pride. Kane said I could call if I needed anything, and while this isn’t exactly an emergency, it feels like a solid enough reason.
Sure, I might regret this later, but waiting around isn’t an option.
Me: You busy?
I hesitate, wondering if I sound too casual. Or worse, needy. But I hit send before I can overthink it.
A beat passes with no response, so I add another message.
Me: No worries if you are! I’m at this diner, and my phone is being weird. I’d rather not wait around with Magic Mike after the meeting.
With a groan, I start to type again, trying to backpedal.
Me: Never mind.
I lock my phone and slide it onto the table, determined not to obsess over Kane’s response. My nerves are already frayed, and the last thing I need is to spiral over a text.
I’m a big girl. I can check the app later.
I barely finish the thought, when my phone buzzes.
Kane : Does this diner have a name?
My heart skips a beat. No hesitation, no questions. Typical Kane. Thank God.
I look up just in time to see Mike heading back toward the table. I quickly send my location, locking my phone and setting it down before he slides back into his seat.
He leans back with a satisfied smile, confidence practically oozing across the table. “I think we’ve got everything covered here, don’t you agree, love? Unless there's something else you’d like to discuss?”