I should’ve handled it differently. Should’ve insisted she go with her father, and maybe the driver could have taken her home after. But when you’re dealing with potential investors—and the daughter of one—it’s not that simple.
My refusal to help could cost me the deal. Daniel has been circling my restaurant group for months, talking about expansion, about new spaces, about the future. The problem is, his daughter thinks the deal includes me.
Not a chance. The only person I want anywhere near me is Olivia.
I spot Anton at the bar, laughing with a sous-chef from another restaurant. When Daniel and I had first started talking this evening, I’d called Anton, wanting him to be part of the Thibault conversation. My restaurant was only two blocks away, and I knew Anton could get here within minutes.
But even after I’d made the call, Daniel dismissed the idea of my sous-chef joining the conversation. Perhaps that should have been a deal-breaker. But it was still early and while I didn’tlike Daniel’s reaction, it was not something to stop negotiations over at this point. If we pursue this business partnership, it’s something I won’t tolerate.
Anton spots me and dips his chin. “Hey, how’d it go?”
Once I’d texted him to come, I had to text again saying he should wait around to talk to me after my conversation with Thibault. He easily agreed.
I lean in close, wanting him to hear me over the racket. “I’m sorry about that bullshit with Thibault. If I’d known he wasn’t going to include you, I’d have never texted.”
“Hey, I get it and appreciate you including me. Don’t sweat it.” He dons one of his lopsided everything-is-all-right grins.
Satisfied he means what he says, I nod, the edge in me easing just enough to breathe again. The bar’s noise rises around us and I scan the room again, but still no Olivia.
I frown, shifting my weight, the unease creeping back in. “You haven’t seen her, have you?”
He raises a brow, then jerks his chin toward the back. “She was there a few minutes ago.”
I push through the crush of people, and when I finally catch sight of her, she’s not alone.
A guy—too young, too polished—is leaning in, smiling that self-assured, I-get-what-I-want kind of smile. His hand rests on the back of her chair, thumb brushing the bare skin between her shoulder blades.
Something primal snaps in me.
I stop just short of them, drawing a steadying breath. No scene. No drama. Just get her attention.
“Olivia.”
She looks up, startled, and there’s something in her eyes—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. Whatever it is, I deserve it.
The guy straightens, half-annoyed, half-intimidated. “Can I help you?”
I don’t even glance his way. “Daniel Thibault’s a potential investor. I had to talk with him… And his daughter fainted and um, Daniel had a flight to catch.”
I hate every word out of my mouth.
Her lips twitch. “Of course she did.”
The unease prods at me again, that whisper of doubt I can’t quite silence. Olivia wasn’t even there for the so-called fainting spell, yet it’s as if she can smell the performance too.
Even still, I can’t easily back away now without jeopardizing the continued talks with Daniel. Yasmine isn’t the type to let a snub slide.
Sighing, I rake a hand through my hair. “She has no one to take her home.” I hate this, but what other choice do I have?
She hesitates, weighing something I can’t read. “Then you should go.”
I want to argue, to explain, if only I could stay, but she’s already leaning back, her gaze shuttered. “Dinner was lovely, Sam. Thank you.”
The formality of it stings.
“Come with me.” I gently tug on her slender wrist as she’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished. “We’ll drop her off, and I’ll take you back.”
“I promised to spend the last night with my friends.”
