Chapter Nineteen
OH, HOW ZOEY WANTEDher dinner to be with Barrett instead of Gerald!
The next day, she did her best to avoid glancing across the restaurant at Barrett as it would be rude and also attract more attention to his presence than needed. Of course, Gerald had shown up with two bodyguards himself, including the personal assistant Barrett suspected of following her to the beauty salon. So Gerald would have no right to complain people were guarding her here.
Somehow, the restaurant’s quirky sea theme didn’t seem as delightful as it had last night. True, the same fishing nets she’d admired were still strung across the ceiling, holding a catch of starfish and shells, and the watercolors painted by Skylar, one of Barrett’s many sisters-in-law, still offered dreamy ocean insights. But everything had changed.
From a laminated menu Gerald probably found tacky with its hand-drawn depictions of the dishes, she’d ordered grilled salmon with lobster sauce and steamed rice with broccoli, and Barrett’s perky sister-in-law in an equally perky pink uniform delivered it. Now, Zoey barely touched her food. Not that she thought Gerald would poison her while dining with her. It was as if her appetite for everything diminished when Barrett wasn’t close.
Stop it.
She forced herself to eat a bite of salmon and studied Gerald. Why did he invite her to dinner, though? And pay an astronomical amount for it—at least, astronomical to her?
Okay, she’d better use this opportunity to clear the air as she’d intended. “I don’t think my well-being will influence Kennedy’s decisions. And I’m not going to join my father and cousin’s corporation. All in all, I’m not a threat to you.”
Gerald laughed. “Few people are a threat to me. But I like your approach.”
She drew some sips of tangy lemonade for courage, then clattered the glass onto the table. “Why did you invite me for dinner then? To irritate my father? To get back at my cousin for wanting to get something you set your eyes on?”
“Neither of those reasons. I don’t think there’s a point in holding grudges.” His gaze under thick gray eyebrows was piercing. “Frankly, I wanted to learn more about you.”
She imagined other people shriveled in front of him. She just smiled. “Why?”
“Do you think I’ll answer that question truthfully?” A hint of a smile gleamed in his dark eyes.
She chewed on the salmon and the question, then glanced at Barrett. His presence gave her strength. And more boldness than she’d realized. “Good point. I withdraw my question. But I don’t like your approach, Mr. Fowler.”
Gerald laughed again. “What if I said you remind me of my daughter?” He’d already asked her a lot about her childhood, her interests, and her dreams as if her life intrigued him indeed.
She’d answered him then, not seeing a reason to hide things. She wouldn’t shy away now, either. “You don’t have a daughter.”
“Then maybe you’re like the daughter I never had but would like to.”
Did he think he needed to butter her up like the biscuit in his hand? “Why don’t I believe you?”
Yet so far, their dinner had gone much better than she’d expected. She didn’t feel any animosity from him. What she’d glimpsed in his eyes was rather curiosity and... worry? She could understand the curiosity, but why worry? And worry for himself or for her?
She met Barrett’s intense gaze from the table further away again and smiled slightly, showing him that everything was all right.
Gerald had surprised her. She’d been prepared to be on the proverbial pins and needles, and instead, she’d been... cushioned maybe? Like the little pillow for pins and needles. Almost relaxed.
Maybe he was that good at manipulation.
He’d shown up not in a suit but in black slacks and a white shirt, no doubt expensive and carefully ironed by a maid. His leather shoes were shiny, and so was the diamond ring on his finger. Not the one bearing the initial G, but a man like him surely had many rings. Almost everything about him was polished and smooth, though his gray hair that matched his mustache and thick brows was slightly tousled as if he’d raked his fingers through it.
The most interesting thing, though, was his knuckles. They were slightly bruised. She’d think he had other people doing his fighting for him, at least, the physical kind. And he owned a ring similar to the one Barrett described the person who’d sent the poisoned cookies had worn. She committed all the details to her memory and glanced again at Barrett, wishing she could tell him this observation already.
But what surprised her the most was that she almost... almost bonded with Gerald in a way. Yup, she was still that na?ve and trusting.
While she already knew he traveled a lot in general, during the conversation, she learned he traveled a lot for business to Europe, including to France and Lazoria. He’d been to many places she’d been, and nostalgia enveloped her. He was also an art collector and a connoisseur. As he talked about famous artists, it wasn’t just that he took pride in his collection, though there was that. He was also very knowledgeable.
When, via his phone screen, he showed her some of the paintings in his houses, she gasped. “Wow. You have a better collection than many famous museums.”
“My curator has an art degree and fifteen years of experience and takes care of my collection and its enrichment. Full-time, of course.”
“Your collection is beyond impressive.” Huh, would he think she was buttering him like a biscuit in her hands? She suspected a lot of people flattered him for obvious reasons. “I studied many of these artists. I could only dream of seeing their art up close.” And she’d never have dared to dream of seeing hers hanging alongside them. Yet, he’d shown her a photo of her tapestry beside one of her favorite nineteenth-century artists. It was in the living room of his main house, too, not just at some of his other properties. It shouldn’t have pleased her, but it did.
“I don’t think your father would like the following idea.” Gerald’s words made her tense. “But you’re welcome to visit at any time. Borrow some pieces, if you’d like.”
She gaped at him, then blinked, and closed her mouth. She swallowed and somehow responded. “You’re just saying that because my father will consider it a trap and tell me not to go.”
“Touché.” He laughed as he threw his napkin on the table. “You’re more entertaining than I expected.”
She pulled back her shoulders.
Of course, all this was a trick. He’d worked hard to come up with things they could easily bond over. And like the poor salmon on her plate, she’d swallowed the shiny hook. Yet her perception of him changed.
That would probably change again. It had to.
She sampled some steamed rice, then pinned him with a stare. “Why did your assistant follow me to the shoe store and the beauty parlor the other day?” She waved in the said person’s direction, who was now drinking iced tea and watching her intently, clearly ready to spring into action at his boss’s command.
Gerald didn’t even wince. He just shrugged. “Because I asked him to.”
Were they going through this again? She suppressed a grimace. “Why? Oh, hold on, you’re not going to answer truthfully. I might as well withdraw the question.”
“You catch on fast.” Again, that slight smile ignited his granite eyes as if she amused him.
Apparently, she didn’t catch on fast enough.
She took another sip of her cold lemonade. She was thinking so hard steam was probably coming out of her ears. “Okay, I know you’re not going to answer this one truthfully, either. But at this point, I’m curious what kind of lie you can come up with.” She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. “Why did you try to kill me?”