7. Olivia
Olivia
Olivia felt her heart race as Lauren left the restaurant.
Suddenly, the air seemed heavier, charged with energy now that only she and Nicholas remained. She knew what she wanted, and even more, what her heart was beginning to crave. The idea both thrilled and unsettled her.
Could she keep her composure through an entire meal with him? Looking into his steady, hazel eyes, she realized she might not even want to try.
Olivia immediately sensed the stillness, a mix of excitement and nerves running through her. Nicholas gave her his usual quiet, confident smile, the kind that always seemed to hold a hidden meaning.
“I’m glad I don’t have to eat alone,” he said, his voice warm with a hint of amusement and something deeper that made her stomach flutter.
He lifted his glass slightly. “Why don't you finish your drink, and then we can go to Lilac. It’s the Michelin-starred Mediterranean restaurant here in the hotel. I promise you—it redefines dining, unless you would prefer someplace different?”
Olivia’s eyes widened just a touch. “No, that sounds wonderful. I’ve never eaten there, but I’ve heard incredible things about it. They say it’s the best restaurant in Tampa. Almost impossible to get a reservation.”
Nicholas’s lips curved in a confident smile. “Leave that to me.” He took out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and made a quick call.
It's Nicholas. I would like a window table for two at Lilac. I'm sitting at the bar, finishing a drink. Then he hung up.
Olivia watched him, noticing his easy authority. He spoke with the calm assurance of someone who didn’t need to ask for favors, but simply expected things to happen.
Within minutes, his phone buzzed. Nicholas murmured a short thank-you and slipped it back into his pocket before meeting Olivia’s gaze. “They’re ready for us whenever we are.”
Her pulse quickened again. She took a deep breath, smoothed her skirt, and stood, trying to calm the anticipation she felt.
Nicholas offered his hand, and she took it, immediately noticing the warmth and steadiness of his grip.
As he gestured for her to walk ahead, she felt his presence close behind, sending a shiver through her.
They walked to the private elevator leading to the restaurant, its polished doors glowing in the soft light. A man in a black tuxedo stood at a podium beside the elevator, holding a leather-bound iPad. A red velvet rope blocked the entrance.
Nearby, a few couples waited quietly, dressed for the evening, their conversations low as they glanced toward the podium.
As Nicholas and Olivia approached, the man lifted his eyes with professional precision. “Name, please,” he said.
“Moretti,” Nicholas replied evenly.
The man glanced down at the clipboard, and his demeanor shifted instantly. His expression sharpened with recognition as he looked back up, offering a respectful nod. “Yes, sir. Mr. Moretti, your table is ready.” He quickly unclipped the rope, let them through, and signaled for the elevator.
Olivia sensed it then: the subtle but clear change in the air. The waiting couples watched with barely hidden curiosity, and she saw it in the gentleman's eyes: he knew Nicholas was not just another guest. Nicholas was someone important, used to doors opening for him right away.
They entered the private elevator. The doors closed with a soft chime, and quiet settled around them. Olivia felt the gentle vibration as they rose, Nicholas standing close by. Neither spoke, but the silence felt meaningful.
When the doors opened, the ma?tre d’ stood waiting in a crisp tuxedo, posture impeccable. “Mr. Moretti,” he greeted smoothly. “It's a pleasure to see you again.”
As they entered the restaurant, Olivia noticed a few guests waiting for tables. She felt a quiet thrill as they were led past them to a softly lit dining room and a private table by the window.
The bay sparkled outside under the city lights. The ma?tre d’ pulled out her chair. “May I start you with a cocktail, or would you prefer to select from the wine list?”
Olivia hesitated, glancing at Nicholas. He met her eyes with a smile. “The wine list, please—unless you’d prefer something else, Olivia?”
She shook her head gently. “No. That’s perfect.”
Candlelight flickered across the table as Nicholas studied her. “Tell me,” he said lightly, “what kind of wine do you prefer? Or are you more of a champagne girl?”
“I’m easy to please,” she said with a playful smile. “Why don’t you choose? I’m sure it will be wonderful.” She noticed his grin grow at her words, a spark of amusement in his eyes. He signaled to the sommelier and ordered a DRC Grand Cru échezeaux Red Burgundy.
As the ritual began, Nicholas approved the bottle and gestured for the cork to be opened and the wine decanted. When the sommelier reached to pour Nicholas a taste, he lifted his hand and nodded toward Olivia.
“Let the lady taste it.”
She looked surprised as she took the glass, holding it by the stem. The aroma was rich and earthy, filling her senses. “This smells amazing,” she said quietly, taking a small sip. Her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them, her expression was softer, almost dazed.
“I’ve never tasted anything like this. What is it?”
“One of the finest Burgundies in the world,” the sommelier said proudly. Nicholas smiled.
Once the wine was poured, Nicholas raised his glass. “Here’s to you, Olivia. Salute. Cent’anni. I’m glad you stayed for dinner.”
“So am I,” she said softly. Their glasses touched with a gentle chime. She smiled. “I know what salute means, but what did you say after that?”
“Cent’anni,” he said. “A hundred years. It’s a common Italian toast.”
“Do you speak fluently?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t say fluently,” he admitted. “But I understand enough. My grandparents spoke it occasionally, and my mother and uncles are fairly fluent.”
Their conversation grew easier, settling into a comfortable rhythm as the wine relaxed them. Nicholas leaned in, his eyes focused. “So, are you thinking about a career in front of the camera? You were great during our interview.”
Her smile faded, replaced by reflection. “I don’t think so. Not right now.” She hesitated, then looked at him. “I’m not sure if you know, but I’m married.” She lifted her hand to gently wiggle her ring.
"Not happily, of course—or I wouldn’t be sitting here enjoying your company this much."
Nicholas’s expression softened, the playful edge replaced by something more genuine. “That’s too bad,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been married, but I always imagined if I ever took that step, I’d want it to last.”
“Has it always been difficult?” he asked gently.
Olivia traced the rim of her glass. “Probably. I was young and stubborn. I didn’t know any better. Then I started to see how selfish Mark really is.” She sighed. “You probably don’t want to hear me complain about my marriage falling apart.”
“Not true,” Nicholas said quietly. “I like talking with you. If it helps to vent, I’m here to listen.” His voice was patient and warm, making it easy for her to open up. He watched her for a moment, then asked gently, “Does your husband know you’re unhappy?”
Olivia paused, her gaze lingering on his face as though searching for meaning beneath his words. “Probably not,” she admitted softly. “He’s too busy focusing on his own wants and needs. My happiness doesn’t exactly rank high on his list.”
“Well,” Nicholas replied, a faint, unapologetic smile touching his lips, “I don’t know your husband, but from where I’m sitting, he sounds like an idiot.” Olivia’s eyes opened, and she smiled.
Then his expression shifted, becoming concerned. “Is he abusive?” he asked quietly, his tone careful, respectful, as if he were stepping onto fragile ground.
“No,” Olivia said, looking down at the dark red wine in her glass.
“That’s not really his style. He’s more subtle. The type who puts you down verbally just enough to feel better about himself. He lifts himself up by making others feel small.”
“That’s a shame,” Nicholas murmured, his jaw tightening slightly. “I’ve never had much patience for people like that.”
Olivia looked up at him, and for the first time that night, her calm slipped. The steady warmth in his eyes made her chest ache, stirring a new, unfamiliar feeling.
“Isn’t that the truth?” She said quietly, a brittle smile on her lips.
“Ah,” Nicholas said softly, lowering his voice, “I hit a nerve.”
She took another sip of wine, letting its richness steady her.
“Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely above a breath, “you did.”
Nicholas leaned back slightly, studying her with an intensity that felt deliberate rather than invasive. Candlelight reflected in his eyes. “How does he put you down,” he asked, “if you don’t mind my asking?”
Olivia let out a soft, self-conscious laugh. “I might need a little more wine before answering that.” Her fingers brushed the stem of her glass, the small movement charged with tension neither of them acknowledged aloud.
Nicholas’s smile deepened, patient and amused. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do. Let’s order some dinner, enjoy this incredible wine, and when you’re ready, we’ll come back to it.”
He caught the waiter’s eye, and the waiter brought over menus. Candlelight flickered between them, casting a warm glow. Olivia felt the warmth on her skin and Nicholas’s steady gaze. Her perfume mixed with the scent of wine, and the air felt heavy with unspoken words.
During dinner, Olivia talked about the food, her voice bright and almost surprised by how good everything tasted. Nicholas agreed, though he rarely took his eyes off her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had better,” he said casually, though his gaze was intent.
When the plates were cleared, the waiter brought dessert menus, but Nicholas waved him off. “Give us a few minutes,” he said. “We’re enjoying the wine and the conversation.”
Turning back to her, he asked, “Would you like to continue where we left off?”
Olivia smiled, a faint blush warming her cheeks. “Why ruin a perfectly magnificent meal?”
“Because,” he said smoothly, lowering his voice, “I want to get to know you better. And it sounds like you could use an objective opinion.”
She tilted her head, studying him, her pulse quickening. “Maybe you’re right,” she said softly.
“So… where were we?”
Nicholas smiled slowly, intrigue flickering across his face. “How your husband puts you down.”
“In more ways than I’d like to admit,” she said, her voice steady even as her eyes darkened. “There’s always something—how I dress, what I enjoy, how I spend my time. Nothing ever seems right or good enough.”
“I don’t understand that,” Nicholas said, leaning in just slightly. “You’re beautiful, sexy, intelligent, classy—and you have a generous heart. I can feel that about you.”
Olivia looked at him, emotions rising unexpectedly. How does a man like him see all of that in me? She wondered, warmth spreading through her chest.
"Never let anyone diminish you," he continued, his voice dropping to something softer.
"You're magnificent, Olivia. And I'd be willing to bet our interview performed so well because of you.
Men were probably watching, staring at that gorgeous face and those sexy legs, thinking—why can't I meet someone like her? "
He lifted his glass.
"Here's to you. To your beauty, your grace, and never letting anyone tell you otherwise."
Olivia's heart was racing as she lifted her glass and met his gaze.
They clinked—the sound soft and private between them.
Nicholas leaned forward again. “Would you like espresso and dessert?”
She nodded. “I’d love that.”
After they shared a decadent slice of triple chocolate cake and finished the last of the wine, Nicholas glanced at her empty glass. “How would you feel about an after-dinner drink?”
She hesitated, a playful note in her voice. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to drive home.”
He smiled knowingly. “Then don’t. I’ll have you driven home. You can pick up your car tomorrow. We’ve already had too much for either of us to drive anyway.”
Her smile deepened, a thrill rippling through her.
“Okay,” she said softly. “What shall we have?”
Nicholas tilted his head, mischief flashing in his eyes. “How about we look at the selection the rooftop bar has to offer?”
“That sounds perfect,” she said, her heart pounding as the night stretched ahead, full of promise, temptation, mystery, and a possibility neither of them was ready to name.