Chapter 23
KATE
He opens the door and gets out, reaching a hand in to assist me.
The restaurant is not the kind of place I would expect to have a meeting with an important client.
It has an A-line roof with a steep pitch, almost resembling a tepee.
The entire front has dark, diamond-shaped windows.
Guests are seated at the tables spread out under an awning, surrounded by palm trees and hibiscus flowers.
As we walk in, I feel completely overdressed.
“I don’t have my notebook,” I whisper to Luke.
“Just use your phone to make notes of any numbers, dates, or names we discuss. You don’t need to write it all, just the highlights.”
“Okay.”
We go right past the stand with hostesses, and he leads me up a stairway in the middle of the room. The interior is nice, but it’s not overly fancy. The wooden beams and potted plants give it an earthy, natural feel.
As we reach the top of the stairs, we enter a small private dining area near an open balcony. In the distance, I can make out the whitecaps of the ocean reflecting in the moonlight.
There are already three men sitting down, all dressed in suits and ties. They stand to greet us, bowing slightly.
Luke returns the bow before extending his hand to the shortest one in the middle.
I’ve heard him speak this language at the office when he was on the phone. The older man responds with a smile and says something in return. Luke chuckles, nodding as they take their seats.
I find mine next to Luke, pulling out my phone. I glance around for someone who might be a translator.
The waitress approaches with a bottle of wine they must have ordered earlier.
She also brings a platter with rows of sushi in various colors.
It looks divine, and my mouth waters despite the lobster I gorged myself on.
Our intimate moment on the deck feels like a lifetime ago.
The waitress begins to fill everyone’s glasses.
Luke turns to me, speaking again in the same language.
I nod along like I know what they’re saying, smiling at him as he looks at me. I’ve gathered that the other man is from Korea, and we’ve been introduced.
The one I’m assuming is Mr. Lim throws his head back, laughing, while the two men beside him look at each other.
Luke’s gaze washes over me again, and I squirm in my seat. I find it disconcerting to be talked about in a language I don’t understand.
He turns back to the man, and the conversation continues on. I keep waiting for someone to start translating into English for me to take notes, but it never happens.
No one touches the sushi, and for some reason, it feels rude to serve myself before someone else begins.
Is the food just a prop?
After about twenty minutes of them talking in Korean, Luke turns to me. “Were you able to take down those sums and dates he mentioned?”
“Umm, no, I don’t … I don’t speak Korean.” I shift in my seat.
His gaze sharpens for a moment, and he leans in closer. “What languages do you know?”
I blink at him. “English.”
Why on earth would he think I was multilingual?
He stares at me, and I stare right back.
No one told me part of this job requirement would be knowing other languages. I’m a personal assistant. I thought the main thing he needed me for was to pick up dry cleaning and do coffee runs.
I guess the fact that I’m paid so well makes a little more sense now.
He starts to translate some for me, just dates and names he wants noted. He mentions a staggering sum, and I assume it’s a yearly income estimate for the entire company.
“Yearly?” I clarify.
“No, monthly.”
I almost choke on my wine, but I manage to nod and change the note.
Mr. Lim finally reaches for a sushi roll, and the two men beside me follow suit. I get myself a few pieces, but Luke doesn’t have any. It’s been hours since we ate the lobster on the deck.
The meeting seems to be coming to a close as they chat without any more dates and sums being clarified for me.
Luke stands after I finish my sushi, extending a hand to Mr. Lim.
The man gestures to me, winking at my boss as he does it.
My skin crawls, as I don’t know what he’s saying.
Luke doesn’t seem to be amused. He bows before we turn to leave.
I also dip my head down, unsure of the proper etiquette for women in this situation.
Luke gestures for me to go ahead, and I descend the stairs. We exit the restaurant, and the black SUV pulls around a moment later.
He opens my door, following in after me. We don’t speak for several minutes as the car takes us to the waiting jet.
“Who interviewed you?” he asks me, turning to face me. His mouth is in a line.
My stomach is uneasy. Is he angry?
“I had a phone interview with Georginne.”
A muscle tics in his jaw as he inspects me. “How did you apply for the position without the qualifications?”
“I didn’t apply. I listed my résumé on , and she reached out the next day for the interview.”
“What day did she reach out?”
I’m confused by his questions, wringing my hands as I shift in my seat.
“Saturday morning . . . after we . . .” I trail off, but he’s still staring at me. “I saw the email that afternoon. She called me as soon as I replied to it and offered me the job.”
He’s sitting very still. “Did you tell her you could speak multiple languages?” He says it slowly, like I’m too dense to understand him.
I suck in a breath, blowing it out before answering. “No. I didn’t lie to her to get the job.” My words have bite to them, but he doesn’t outwardly react.
The SUV pulls up in front of the jet, and the interior is lit up. He doesn’t move to get out of the car until the driver gets out and opens his door.
I follow suit, mind swirling with questions. Is he going to fire Georginne because she hired someone who wasn’t qualified for the position? Does he even believe me?
I guess he could fire me, too, but it’s not like I lied.
Surely, I can prove that my résumé doesn’t say anything about knowing any languages besides English and being moderately proficient in Excel.
I’ve heard of people exaggerating or even lying about their skills to get a job, but how could I possibly have expected to get away with something like that?
We ascend the stairs into the plane.
Rachele greets us with her knockout smile. “I trust your stay was pleasant?”
Luke nods. “Can I get a glass of bourbon?”
“Of course, Mr. Bradshaw. Anything for you, Miss Dawson?”
“Wine, please.”
She nods, swaying gracefully toward the back of the plane.
“I need to go over the contract and make some adjustments before I send it to Mr. Lim. Can you email your notes before you go to bed?”
I nod, feeling dismissed. He’s back in Mr. Bradshaw mode, and I wasn’t prepared for the stark transition.
The island really had us in a bubble.
We land in Dallas on Sunday morning. I’m not prepared for the wave of summer heat when we exit the jet. I’m dressed in my casual traveling clothes—black joggers and a cropped white hoodie. I’m feeling refreshed from the shower I took, but Luke is somehow still sexy in his tux from last night.
I get a text from Mel as we wait on the tarmac for the car to take us into the city.
Mel
Nik booked me an entire spa day! Won’t see you till tonight, but I can’t wait to hear about your weekend. Love you, boo.
Kate
That’s so sweet. He sounds like a keeper. See you soon.
I’m relieved I’ll have a day alone at the apartment to sulk.
Two black SUVs pull up. Luke walks up to one, opening the door for me.
He clears his throat. “I’ve got some things to take care of. Jackson’s going to drive you home.”
The bald driver who brought us here is sitting in the car, waiting. I wasn’t prepared to say good-bye right now. I thought I’d have an hour or so in the car to drum up the courage to ask if I still have a job even though I only speak one language.
“Oh, um, okay . . . see you tomorrow morning?”
He simply nods. The other driver is outside his vehicle, holding the door open for his employer. I climb into the car, and Luke shuts the door without another word to me.
I’m fighting back tears as we pull away from the tarmac. What kind of silly, stupid girl falls for her boss? His pattern of showering me with attention and then retreating back into silence is emotionally draining.
Maybe I should just quit my job.
The looming payment for my dad’s care and the recent brain scans he had done reminds me that I don’t have that option right now.
At the very least, I need to amp up the job-searching efforts.
I’ve been in tough places before. I can stick it out for a few more weeks even if he’s as cold to me at the office as he was as soon as we left that magical string of islands in the South Pacific.
“Driver?”
“Name’s Jackson.”
“Oh, sorry. Jackson, could you maybe take me on a quick detour before we go to my apartment? It’s on this side of town.”
“Sure. What’s the address?”
I rattle it off, and he enters it into his GPS. We pull up to the care facility fifteen minutes later, and I open the door before he has a chance to. His brown eyes are looking at me through the rearview mirror.
“I’ll be quick, okay?”
“No rush.”
I clamber out, walking up to the entrance. The smell of antiseptic from their deep cleaning on Sunday mornings greets me.
Sandra smiles at me, and the sight of a familiar friendly face is exactly what I needed today, squeezing my heart.
“Hey, sugar. You look tired. You feeling okay?”
“Oh, yes, long weekend . . . working. I’m fine.”
She nods at me, smile faltering. “I think he’s having a rough one, baby.”
My steps halt, the momentary comfort vanishing, replaced by dread.
“He . . . did something happen?”
She bobs her head, kind eyes filled with concern.
“He’s been . . . asking for your mama. The nurses are calling the doc for a stronger sedative. I was actually just about to call you.”