Chapter Eight
GABE
I wasn't used to failing. Generally, when I put my mind to something, I succeeded. But clearly I had my limits. Still, tonight was a win. I was going to have a nice dinner with Diane, and we’d actually enjoy some delicious food instead of trying to pass mine off as edible.
I changed into a suit quickly, then walked out to the living room and closed all the windows. The smell was gone, thank God.
While I waited, I paced the entrance hall, glancing up when I heard footsteps.
My breath caught at the sight before me.
Diane was absolutely stunning. The fabric of her dress shimmered, molding against her body with every step she took.
She’d pinned her hair to one side, and her neck was delectable.
"Do you think this will pass as acceptable?"
"You look amazing," I said with a growl.
Her eyes widened, and she stopped moving.
I cleared my throat. "I think it’s perfect."
"I don't get many chances to doll myself up, so I thought I'd take this one."
I'd been attracted to her since the first time I saw her, but this was on another level altogether.
Suddenly, I wanted to find an excuse to stay home and order in, just so I didn't have to share her with anybody.
But clearly she was looking forward to this.
And I wanted to give her many, many opportunities to doll herself up if that's what made her happy.
"I ordered an Uber for us."
"How come?"
"If I have a glass of wine or two, I don't like to drive."
She nodded. "Good thinking."
She also had a light jacket on. It seemed almost flimsy, but I could always give her mine if she was cold when we came out of the restaurant.
I took in a deep breath as she stepped off the last stair and stood next to me. She was petite. I wouldn't even need both my arms to lift her up. And she smelled amazing.
"Gabe? Anything wrong?"
Oh, for fuck's sake. I cleared my throat, pulling my thoughts together.
"Let's go," I said.
I offered her an arm, but she must not have seen it because she walked in front of me. The way her hips moved drove me crazy, and I looked away for my own sanity.
The Uber was already waiting in front of the gate when we stepped out.
I opened the car door for Diane, and she slipped in.
I climbed in on the other side. We were both silent during the ride.
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as she skimmed her hands on her thighs.
The impulse to reach out and touch her was overpowering.
We arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes later.
"Wait for me. I'll open your door," I said.
"Oh, thank you. I'm honestly not even used to walking in such long dresses. I don’t want to trip in it.”
An image flashed in my mind—of her dress completely undone, pooled at her feet. I wondered what kind of lingerie she liked to wear.
I shook myself out of it as I opened the door for Diane. She stepped out, one long leg peeking from under the fabric, fueling my thoughts. I offered her my arm again, and this time she took it.
"Small secret: I'm also not used to wearing such high heels."
She fell completely silent as we walked up to the entrance. Two doormen opened the double doors for us, and we went inside, straight to the host.
"Mr. Whitley," he said. Since I was a regular, I didn't even need to introduce myself. "Your table is ready."
He glanced at Diane curiously but had the good sense not to say anything. I usually came here with my brothers or on my own, and I was sure the host noticed.
Diane looked around as we walked to our table, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.
"This place is so elegant," she said once we sat down. "I like that they space everything out to give guests more privacy."
I nodded. "I like that too."
I hated restaurants that were so crowded, you could hear every conversation around you. This felt intimate.
"And they obviously knew who you were," she said. "I can't believe you have your own table here."
I shrugged. "It's not really my table. I'm just here very often. Out of courtesy, they told me once that I can even call on short notice and they'll find me a spot."
She pressed her lips together, looking around again.
"Are you feeling uncomfortable?" I asked.
She lowered her gaze and then raised it back up. "Is it that obvious?"
"Listen, the last thing I want is for you to feel that way. I wanted to do something nice."
"This is nice," she said. "I'm just out of my comfort zone." She smoothed the top of her hair with a palm even though not even a single hair was out of place. "But I promise I'm going to enjoy this."
"Great, that's all I want."
The waiter came to us just then. "May I recommend the daily specials?" he said after handing us the menus.
"Sure."
"We have Argentinian steak with extra foie gras."
Diane wrinkled her nose. I wasn't a fan myself.
"There's also a flank steak with pepper sauce and duck breast," he continued.
"I already know what I'd like," Diane said. "I want a medium-cooked steak with roasted potatoes."
"And I want a rib eye with sweet potato fries," I added.
The waiter also recommended a Rioja red wine.
"Why don't you bring a glass for the lady? If she likes it, we'll take a bottle," I said. The second he was out of earshot, I grinned.
She raised a brow. "A whole bottle? You want to get me drunk?"
I laughed. "No, not at all. Are you a lightweight?"
"I can hold my liquor," she said. "And red wine isn't that strong anyway."
The waiter came back almost immediately with a bottle, uncorking it in front of us and pouring just a bit into Diane's glass. She grabbed it with shaky fingers and clumsily twirled it around, then took a sip. She blinked her eyes wide open and exclaimed, "This is fantastic."
The waiter poured wine into both our glasses. Once he left, she said, "I take it back. Cheap carton red wine isn't strong, but this has a bit of a kick."
"It's Rioja," I explained. "Definitely more potent."
"It’s delicious. Good thing I grabbed a few bites at the house so I don't drink on an empty stomach."
I snorted. "You cannot call that a bite."
"Yes, I can. You get a lot of points for trying."
"I'm not used to trying. I usually succeed at what I do."
"I see." She leaned back in her chair and shifted her body in a way that made me think she crossed and uncrossed her legs. "I can't decide if you're serious or not."
"I am."
"You never fail at anything?"
I hesitated, taking another sip, wondering if I should share this with her, but why not? Somehow, I felt at ease with her. "When I first took over the distillery, I almost did fail."
Her mouth formed an O. "My sister said it's always done well."
"The profits weren't up to par in the early years. My father," I said, carefully weighing the word, "had an empire-building problem."
"What's that?" she asked.
"He wanted to grow the company, so he opened new businesses under Whitley Industries, shifting money from one venture to another.
But he wasn't focused on profits, so naturally after he left, things were up in the air.
The distillery wasn't in such dreadful shape as some of the other companies, but it wasn't the slam dunk people thought it was. "
"What made you decide to take it over instead of, I don't know, opening something else?"
"I take pride in the Whitley name, no matter our past. Once Dad was out of the picture, I knew it was up to us boys to regain our status, rebuild our name.
My brothers were already in charge of other branches, and I wanted to make my mark.
Not just for my ego, but I knew it would make our grandparents extremely happy.
It was all they ever wanted, for us to be owners of the business and legacy. "
She flashed a huge smile, revealing dimples at the corners of her mouth. "That's very considerate of you. So that means you're close to your grandparents."
"Yeah, I am. Very.”
“I still don’t understand why your grandmother just up and left on Saturday.”
I chuckled. I might be digging my own grave if I voiced my thoughts, but what the hell? It relaxed me. I genuinely liked being around Diane. "First you need to know some background info. Grandmother likes to play matchmaker."
"Really? Is she any good?" Diane asked. "Can I ask her to find me someone?"
My entire body tightened at her words. I was physically rejecting the idea of Grandmother setting her up with someone.
What the hell was up with that? The idea of a guy coming to the house, waiting around to take her out on dates or even going up to her room, was unacceptable. My own reaction was shocking.
"Gabe?"
"She's good," I said, ignoring her other question. "She's been successful with four of my brothers, though her involvement varied from one case to the next."
She laughed, seeming even more relaxed than usual.
"Anyway, lately she's been asking me to drive her to meet all sorts of friends and then carefully introduces me to her friends' granddaughters or nieces or what have you. At first she tried to pass it off as accidental, but then she just told me the truth to my face."
"So she had plans for you on Saturday?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"And yet she changed her mind. I wonder why.”
I had a hunch that I knew what changed Grandmother's mind, but I didn't voice that.
Our dinner arrived just then.
"This looks amazing," she said as soon as the waiter set hers down.
"Glad you think so, ma'am."
After he left, she looked up at me. "Do I look old?" she asked.
"No. Why?"
"He called me 'ma'am.' That's unexpected."
I laughed. "You don’t look old. If you looked any more gorgeous, I'd have to fight off people asking you out."
She snorted. "Don't worry, I can fight them off myself. I think I have a built-in man-repellent anyway."
I fixed my gaze on her. She seemed to feel that I was looking at her because she glanced up from her steak.
"I'm not very lucky in the dating department. I mean, this is by far the best dinner I've ever had, and it's not even a date. So who's a winner? Me."
"You really like to see the good in every situation."
She nodded. "It's how I keep going, no matter what."
"I'm the same," I replied. "At least that's what people say about me."
She took another sip of wine and said, "This is going to my head."
"I'll take care of you, don't worry."
She winked. "Lucky you know where I live."
Yeah. Though I wasn’t sure if I was lucky or screwed.