Em
I roll my eyes and type back quickly:
Made it tothe restaurant.
Silencing my phone now and this isn't a date.
Stop making it weird.
Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. I am Charlotte Whitaker. Marketing powerhouse. Professional to my core. I've faced down boardrooms full of skeptical executives. I can handle one dinner with Sebastian.
I glance at my phone. 6:58 pm. Perfectly punctual, as always. Silencing the device, I shove it down into my purse.
Looking up toward the restaurant entrance, I freeze. Sebastian’s standing there, watching me. Not just looking in my direction, but watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. I pull my coat tighter around me.
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I'm right back in my apartment, his hands in my hair, his lips trailing down my neck.
I blink hard, breaking the spell.
His mouth curves into a slow smile as I approach. He's unfairly handsome tonight in dark jeans and a button-down that fits him perfectly. His sleeves are rolled up just enough to show his forearms.
The rolled sleeves again. Fucking hell. Does he somehow know that the rolled sleeves are a weakness of mine? God, there should be laws against forearms like those.
"You're staring," he says, his voice low and amused when I reach him.
"I'm assessing," I correct him, stopping a safe distance away. "Making sure you look appropriate for a fake boyfriend."
"And do I pass inspection?"
"You'll do." I brush past him toward the door, willing my heartbeat to slow down. "Let's get this over with."
His hand catches the door before I can reach for it.. "After you."
The restaurant is dimly lit, intimate, with small candles on every table and soft jazz playing in the background. Perfect for actual couples. Terrible for my mental state.
"Reservation for Montgomery," Sebastian tells the maître d', who smiles a bit too brightly at him.
"Right this way," she says, leading us to our table.
Romantic. Great.
Bellini's is upscale without being stuffy, all warm wood and amber lighting. Our table is partially enclosed by a curved booth on one side and a decorative screen of woven copper wire on the other, creating a pocket of privacy that feels both cozy and dangerously intimate.
"Your server will be with you shortly," the maître d' says, placing our menus on the table.
I slide into the booth, determined to maintain my composure. Sebastian sits across from me, the soft lighting casting shadows across the angles of his face.
"Nice place," I say, glancing around. "Very... secluded."
"I figured privacy would be helpful if we're creating our love story." His voice holds that hint of teasing. "So, you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend to make your ex jealous." He asks as he starts scanning the menu.
"Not jealous," I correct sharply. "I just don't want to look pathetic. There's a difference."
"Is there?" His eyes study me over the top of his menu.
"Yes. I could care less what Ethan thinks of me."
He sets his menu down, leaning forward slightly. "For what it's worth, he sounds like an idiot."
