“As we both have,” she replied a little more sharply than what her heart would dictate.
Holding out an arm toward the restaurant entrance, he replied dryly, “Shall we eat?”
“Yes, I’m famished.”
William signaled the hostess, without even a customary bonjour, as though he were a regular at the bar, and she promptly escorted them to a private banquette table in the main dining room. Surrounded by lush red velvet and ornate, rich décor, she felt like royalty. Yet the seating was awkward; to sit opposite him would make conversation difficult, but sitting too close to him—her ex, her almost forever—was a test of will for her, but based on the deserved chill coming off him, she sat opposite him.
Around them, the gentle rhythm of romancing—or conspiring—conversations mixed with silverware clinking on dishware. Someone’s rolling laughter broke the enchanting ambiance.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of advance ordering you a dirty martini with three olives,” William said, signaling the waiter for their drinks.
“That was very thoughtful, although I don’t drink martinis anymore, but I guess ... there’s no harm. It’s probably a sin at the Ritz if I don’t.”And I’d hate to insult you!
“I shouldn’t have assumed. What do you drink now?”
“Pinot noir is a favorite.” She softly smiled, feeling self-conscious. What wine was the new billionaire craze these days? “Please don’t go to any trouble. It’ll be nice to have a martini for a change. What areyoudrinking?”
“Sparkling water.”
“No bourbon?”
“Not for a few years.” He furrowed his brow. “They could make you a specialty drink, if you prefer. You don’t have to appease me.”
“William, the martini is fine, really. Thank you.”Is he nervous?
Everything he touched fascinated her. Covertly watching his manicured fingers hold the glass, pick up the napkin, and adjust his tie, she recalled how his soft touch made her feel.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” she said. “I thought Carrie was looking forward to Paris and the auction.”
“She was but had a scheduling conflict and gave me a last-minute ultimatum.”
“Ah, I see. Things to look forward to in marriage,” she joked.
“So they say. I’m assuming you are disappointed by my presence, not hers.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure I can tolerate you for a couple of days, so long as you don’t gopunchinganyone,” she teased.
“Ishehere with you?”
“No. George is not involved with my gallery’s business.”
He finally chuckled, giving her more than an emotionless half-smile. “Then, you have my word. Look, I’m sorry my being here blindsided you, but she wants the painting.”
A waiter passed by the table and the intoxicating woodsy scent of herbs de Provence wafted around her, comforting her like a serving of Porc grille on a cold day. “I completely understand. Um ... then maybe. This is admittedly awkward,but do you think we should address the elephant in the room so we can relax and go over the protocols before the auction tomorrow?”
“Which elephant?”
“The only elephant I know of that may impede our successful business relationship—my departure for school.”
Furrowing his brow, he looked disappointed. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t want to clear the air between us, even if it comes with a sincere but likely inadequate apology and a pitiful explanation for breaking your heart?”
“No.” He flippantly shrugged. “The past is irrelevant, and I hate excuses.”
That hurt a little. There was nothing irrelevant to what they had. It had shaped her expectations of all that was true and pure in a forever-type of love and taught her more than she bargained for about trusting her sister. Because of William, she had wings to fly and did!
