I know she told me it was in four weeks, not two. But if she’s smart, she’ll know what I’m doing here. Really, there’s no need for her to be there with me. I don’t need anyone’s help closing this deal. If anything, she’s making it more difficult.
Who agrees to a weekend retreat… in MAINE… with your fake date?
“No, the anniversary party is mid-March. We’re free that weekend.” She smiles, her delicate features scrunched up in a way that would be kind of cute if she wasn’t fucking everything up.
What is she up to? My mind immediately starts to cycle through a list of motives behind her actions.
“I’m positive you told me it was in two weeks,” I tell her again, my voice leaving no room to misinterpret my meaning.
“No, silly.” She turns to Leon with a grin. “I swear, he never listens.”
What. The. Fuck.
She’s already labeled me a workaholic, neglectful boyfriend. Now I have to be a bad listener as well? Real nice, Brielle.
“Of course I listen, baby. Must just have my dates mixed up.”
I have no idea what I was thinking bringing some woman I barely know to such an important dinner. I should have told them she got food poisoning and couldn’t make it. It would have been easier.
One date. Not even a date. One dinner. That was it.How difficult could it be to just sit back quietly for two hours?
My palms are sweating. My heart is racing. This entire dinner has gotten away from me in a way that I really do not like. From planning this dinner, who was invited to it, the way the conversation was guided, and now this. I haven’t had control of this dance at any stage, and it’s starting to piss me off.
It isn’t that I’m a control freak in every way, but when it comes to my business, I don’t let other people walk all over me. I can judge a person’s agenda, motivations, and desires within minutes of talking to them.
But I can’t see any reason why Brielle would agree to this.
Unless she’s trying to get close to me.
Is that what this is? A tactic to latch herself onto a successful businessman? Set herself up with a rich man who will take care of her?
Something inside of me is telling me no. If it is, then I’ll have to admit my first impression of her was wrong. But if I wasn’t wrong, then what am I missing?
Before my client-friendly persona wears off, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I can tell the moment I step out of sight from the table because it’s the first time I can breathe again.
Frustration at Brielle pumps through me, the soft touch of her skin lingering on my fingertips making me even more irritated.
I take my time, studying myself in the bathroom mirror, looking for the cracks that must be showing if I can let this situation get as out of hand as it has. The image of me reflected back is poised and composed, nothing like how I’m feeling inside.
Pulling out of this arrangement now would not only make me look uncommitted, but it would also destroy the only opportunity I’ll have to finally sign Cardinal West Outdoors as a client.
I could always walk away though. They’re big, and growing. But they aren’t the only business in town that could benefit from CreativEdge’s services. They aren’t a make-or-break account for me, but after putting in the time and effort to get this far, backing away isn’t going to happen.
I don’t quit. And I don’t lose.
And I sure as shit don’t want Walter Burke to walk away with this account.
If that means that I have to spend a few days in some cabin in Maine, then that’s just what I’ll do. With Brielle by my side, apparently.
I get back to the table to see the three of them chatting away like old friends. Brielle looks up at me and smiles, her cheeks rosy from laughing.
“There you are, honey.”
“Sorry about that,” I say, not making any further excuses.
I take my seat, and they pick up the conversation where it had left off as we eat.
“I love the fact that someone like me, who isn’t super knowledgeable, would be able to sign up for one of your tours without having to worry about anything. I think there is huge value in that,” Brielle says.
