Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian
I waited for Darcy in the Bugatti I had delivered from the dealership where I’d purchased it in Beverly Hills. It was a unique showroom car the previous owner had purchased from Sotheby’s before deciding they didn’t want it. I didn’t hesitate to buy it for two reasons: it was one-of-a-kind, and I needed to do something nice for myself since I’d inadvertently found myself in a war that seemed to have no end.
“Where the hell is she?” I thought. I glanced at my watch, rolled my eyes, and then strummed my fingers impatiently on the top of the steering wheel.
“Nice ride, Bruce Wayne,” she laughed, sliding effortlessly into the passenger seat.
“Bruce Wayne?” I questioned her in confusion.
“You know who Batman is, right, genius?” she said, predictably annoyed.
“Right, of course,” I answered. “Although I have no idea why you would call me that since your opinion of me couldn’t be any farther from a superhero.”
She looked over at me as if I’d just asked her how to spell the words fuck off , and sighed, “Your car looks like the batmobile, but yeah. Complimenting you was not what I was going for with that statement.”
“Well, at least we are getting off to a fantastic first date,” I chuckled, then eyed her as she buckled up and relaxed into her seat.
Damn. She really cleaned up well. My eyes drifted over her white, silk dress, its length inching up to reveal her muscular, polished legs, stopping at the top of her thighs. The top was formed in a tank-top fashion, accentuating her toned and well-defined shoulders and arms. She was perfectly fit, which I knew from the camisole tops and short skirts I’d seen her wear when she trotted around her parents’ home. This form-fitting dress was simple but elegant, lending her curves the definition and style to complement the labor she’d dedicated herself to with an obviously structured workout routine.
It’s not that I was only attracted to a well-toned body, but I appreciated and respected the self-care and discipline that went into a healthy routine.
“What are you staring at?” she said, catching my eyes roaming over her perfectly polished body that complimented her cocktail dress. “Drive. I’m sure you didn’t pay nearly three million bucks on this car just to sit in it.”
I smirked, “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know how much a Bugatti Chiron costs.”
She propped her right elbow up in her window and leaned against her hand, fingers massaging her forehead in agitation.
“Yeah,” she responded. “Interviewing assholes such as yourself afforded me that information.”
“So, is this how our night is going to go?” I questioned, not in the mood to get on the battlefield with her. Strangely, I was in better spirits than I imagined I would be.
“Our night is going to go exactly like it’s supposed to. We’ll tolerate each other during the time we’re forced to be together, and in front of people, we’ll act like we’re the cutest fucking couple to hit the billionaire tabloids. That’s it. You’re not getting any more from me.”
“I was hoping we could at least be civil to each other.”
She looked at me and narrowed her eyes, “How can we , of all people, be civil to each other? Everything you do irritates the shit out of me, and you love to over-evaluate everything I do and state how I’m wrong. We are from two separate worlds and have found ourselves on a collision course on a highway of fuckery.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way of putting it,” I smiled, knowing she wasn’t far from the truth.
“All I can hope for is that I can actually pretend well enough not only to like you as a person but also as a fucking lover, or else my career is shot to hell.” She raised both eyebrows in reproach to me. “Thank you for this, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking stressed in all my life.”
“Well, just fake it,” I said. “Isn’t that what women are known to do?”
“You really know how to say the worst thing at any given moment, you know that?” Her eyes widened at the statement that I believed to be accurate. “I guess I shouldn’t hold your sexism against you, though, since I’m one thousand percent certain that every woman you’ve ever met has had to fake it with you,” she seethed. “Now, drive your fucking cartoon car, and get us to this dinner with Jim and Avery so I can lie to my friend’s face. Fuck!”
I’d lost my patience with her mood. I considered canceling all of this for a moment, but then I remembered why I was doing it. I pulled out of the long asphalt driveway, which should’ve been repaved at least seven years ago, and instead of poking back at the little tiger sitting at my side, I kept quiet.
I figured a lighter topic of conversation was the way to go. It would be fifteen to twenty minutes before we arrived at the restaurant, and we needed to be less repulsed by one another by that time. Having been married to a woman who insisted upon receiving compliments, which would determine whether I would get laid after our date nights, I knew what I needed to do. A casual conversation was the safest bet to smooth over the angry woman at my side, who was acting like a miserable wife and not a newly obsessed girlfriend. Jim and Avery would see right through us if I didn’t change the mood.
Now, what the hell should I compliment her on? I glanced over, seeing her stare out her window, pointedly ignoring me and acting like she was stuck in some prison. I would’ve felt sorry for her, but she started this by thinking that auctioning me off would be funny. So, prison or not, I was stuck in this shit parade with her because there was no way I was being objectified. We were walking through hell together.
I inhaled deeply, trying to think, and ended up with a nose full of a fragrance blend of coconut, vanilla, and a hint of a woodsy musk that smelled quite refreshing. I wasn’t a fan of a musky scent, especially on a woman, but this was nice.
That’s it. Compliment how she smells, I thought, knowing a man could never go wrong complimenting a woman on her perfume.
“You smell intoxicating,” I said nicely.
“We’re not in front of Jim and Avery, so you can save the big romantic proclamations for when we’re faking it in front of them,” she shot back, continuing to stare out of her window.
“Maybe the word intoxicating was a bit over the top,” I said, rolling my eyes at how bitchy she was acting. “But you smell quite lovely, and I’m not being fake about that.”
I glanced at her and smiled when I noticed her head turn toward me. Finally, I did something right. I brought my eyes back to the road when I saw a smirk playing on her lips.
“Thank you,” she said.
Ah, we’re getting somewhere, at least.
“What perfume are you wearing?”
“Sand and Sable,” she answered with a laugh. “I knew we’d be riding in the car together, and since you’ve blackmailed me into this only to make me miserable, I was hoping to make you the same. So, I went into my mom’s room, found the old perfume she never wears anymore, and sprayed on this one.”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and couldn’t resist but inwardly laugh at everything she was doing to piss me off. However, her adorable way of throwing these tantrums and revealing that she was trying to make me suffer in her presence was strangely more amusing than it should’ve been.
“It’s nice to know that plan backfired on you the same way your auction did because, unfortunately for you, I find the fragrance quite arousing.”
“You know what I’ve learned while researching the wealthy?” she said, ignoring my last comment and changing the subject.
“We’re impressed?—”
“That there’s a difference between old money and new money,” she interrupted, knowing how much it fucking pissed me off.
“You don’t say?” I answered, irritated.
“I do say,” she said, “and everyone who knows the Aster family knows they’re from old money.”
“Correct.”
“Well, if it’s true that old money people don’t flaunt their wealth as the annoying little upstarts do in your weirdo crowd,” she said in her typical smart-ass tone, “I wonder why you bought this car, of all cars there are to choose from, to go to dinner.”
“Easy, I like it. It’s something I wanted, so I bought it,” I answered, knowing I didn’t owe her an explanation.
“What would your parents think of this flash of wealth you’re cruising in? This three-million-dollar car their son bought just to go on a dinner date in and show Jim Mitchell up when he arrived?”
I smirked, “Jim Mitchell isn’t a rival, and I have nothing to prove to him. He’s a business associate, and that’s all.”
“Then why would someone from a family that doesn’t flaunt their wealth buy a car like this one?”
“Not that I owe you an explanation,” I started, “but perhaps if I give you one, we can ease into a more friendly rapport?—”
“I don’t need or really want an explanation. I just thought it was interesting,” she cut me off again, and I don’t think I’d ever encountered a person who hated me as much as Darcy Burke did.
It was no longer cute, and if I had feelings, one might say she was starting to hurt them. It was beyond me that we couldn’t even have a civil conversation without me constantly being treated as if I’d intentionally run her dog over and thrown it on her front porch with a smile.
“Listen,” I said, “I understand you loathe me, and I know very well this is the very last thing you want to do. But I will state that you are truly a beautiful woman, and I don’t think I saw that until you walked out to the car tonight dressed like this. If we weren’t from two separate worlds, perhaps I would’ve allowed the moment to do more than intrigue me; however, it is impossible to allow myself to feel anything for you.”
“Is this your idea of a compliment, telling me I’m pretty while putting me in my lower-class place?” she smiled and shook her head. “Get to your point, and please, whatever you do, try not to compliment me because compliments are always disguised insults from what I’ve learned about you.”
“I didn’t intend to insult you,” I said. “I was just taken by your beauty tonight, and your perfume adds to all of that,” I smiled, somehow shocked I could pay her a compliment without insulting her. “That’s all. And before we entered this war , you and I did have a short period of time where we agreed on things.”
“Yeah, that morning the sun was coming up, I remember,” she said. “Too bad it didn’t last.”
“Well, if it is any consolation, you’ve only met the business side of me. Honestly, before my wife was killed, I was an agreeable man,” I smiled, recalling Melissa’s personality.
Darcy was like Melissa in that she didn’t back down from me, and unlike all the other debutants, Melissa wasn’t fake in her personality. She was real, and she could be a real bitch at times, too. It’s what made us a tremendous team and admirable power couple. She didn’t take shit from her peers, nor did I. She also came from money and acted accordingly, which was the opposite of Darcy. But the strong side of Darcy and the way she stood up to me reminded me of my late wife, and instead of being saddened by it, I enjoyed it.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” she said, snapping me out of my soft moment of reflection.
“I don’t need anyone’s sympathies,” I said defensively.
“There you have it,” she snapped back. “The second I’m actually nice to you and willing to raise a fucking white flag on this bickering bullshit we always find ourselves doing, you go there. ”
“Go there? Go where?” I questioned, flustered. “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m a very direct person, Miss Burke, and what you will find with me is truth and honesty. Whether or not you agree with what I say is on you.”
“Back to formalities too, I see,” she said with the same irritation. “You know, if I didn’t hate you, I would feel so fucking sorry for you.”
“Hate is an extremely strong word.”
“I know, and it was never in my vocabulary until I met you. There are many reasons why, Mr. Aster, ” she mocked, “you and I could never work out, and nine of them are what you just insulted me for.”
“What other reasons could there be?” I answered, biting back at her for insinuating I was wrong, and she had the correct answer.
“The main reason is that I could never be with someone or even fall for someone who brings out the worst in me,” she answered while I put the car in park in the private parking area of The French Laundry restaurant. I looked over at her eyes, beautiful in their sky-blue color yet lethal in her gaze. “You’re just a really, really bad man.”
That cut me deeply in a weird way, and for the first time in a long time, I felt upset that I had led someone to see me as a bad person.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” was the only response I could muster while I opened my door to step out of the car.
Her eyes held mine. “I don’t need anyone’s sympathies,” she said, throwing my words back at me.
Before I could respond or step out of the car to open her door and take her hand as a gentleman would, she had stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
I had no idea what would happen at dinner tonight with Jim and Avery Mitchell. What I did know was that Darcy and I, if left alone for longer than fifteen minutes, could do some very real damage to each other.
We were the supreme definition of opposites not attracting.