“No. It won’t happen. She won’t reject me. I know what I have to do.”
“Make sure it’s not doing my sister. A friendly dinner is one thing…”
I can see how much Sam hates the idea now that he’s had time to think about it and think about it actually happening. I need to calm those nerves down before they keep getting pressed on, and he gets to thinking about me with his sister in ways a brother never wants to think about, which is someone with their little sister. And before a coffee table gets launched across the room. Also, not Sam’s character, but again, he might make an exception for me, and I really don’t want to wear the bloody thing.
“She hates me, remember?” I give him the most reassuring look. “It will end at dinner.”
No, it won’t. Not if I can help it. I’m kicking this plan into overdrive because I’ve already let too much time go by. I wasn’t going to do anything at all until I found out Stella was single, and then I guess I kind of snapped a little bit inside. In the control department, the department responsible for control, whatever. My sanity and rational thinking went out like a pile of trash, and I immediately started to implement a brutally unthought-out plan.
“Well…” Sam shakes his head. “If you want to risk asking her, go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll react badly, and it will be a wonderful scene I’ll be sorry to miss. I can’t wait to see what reprisal she comes up with to torture you for even daring to go there. I. Just. Can’t. Wait.”
Sam is so deep in denial that he doesn’t think this is real. I didn’t want him to find out after the fact because it could ruin our friendship, so I wanted to do the honorable thing and talk it out, man to man, ahead of time. He’s given his blessing, but I can tell he doesn’t really know what it’s for yet. I think we might still have some choice words after. If I succeed.
Scratch that. I know I will.
CHAPTER 10
Stella
I can’t believe I’ve been scammed into this. That’s the only word I can use for it. Scammed.
As I sit across from Hal in Seattle at Graine de la Louvre Sans Frontière, which is literally the most ridiculous name for a five-star restaurant I could ever think of, I calm myself down by telling myself that this is the final step to earning my freedom. I’ll be able to pursue my dreams of actually doing some actual cooking. I’ll be able to move out of the crappy apartment I detest into a probably not so crappy tiny room in a small house shared with five to ten other people, just so we can all make rent, but whatever. At least I’ll be doing the one thing that truly makes me happy. Honestly, it was never really baking cakes, or I would never have let go of the bakery the way I did. I would never have allowed Hal to win like this. I genuinely feel like this is a win for me.
With his dark hair tied back into a tight knot, a few days’ worth of scruff on his square jawline, and his eyes as green as per usual staring straight through me, I feel like he knows it’s a win for me too.
Just get through dinner, then you’re free. Just smile. Order something really expensive. Maybe half the menu, because whatever, he’s paying. Make. Him. Pay. For. Real.
He insisted I wear a dress and look like I was going to eat at a five-star place. Hal picked me up from my apartment—because that was his stipulation—in a classic car as black as the suit he wore. I could make comparisons to his heart and soul here, but I won’t go there. Because I’m too nice.
I curled my hair and pinned it up. I decided if I were going to have to sit through this stupid dinner, I’d do it classy and in style. I’d make sure Hal knew I wasn’t doing it for him but for myself. I even did my makeup, which I rarely bother with anymore. Also, I wore something that wasn’t my work uniform for the first time in ages. My sleek black dress is cut low in the back and front. And it’s a challenge to keep the bloody thing from slipping and revealing a nipple since I’m not wearing a bra under it.
I shift uncomfortably in the upholstered black and gold chair and sip at my carbonated water. I asked for tap water, but this is what I got instead. Maybe they have some ritzy ass taps here since it wouldn’t be hard to believe. This is the kind of place where everything is trimmed in black and gold—the floors are marble, the tables gilded. This place literally looks like the inside of a palace in France. I’m pretty sure the paintings on the black walls might actually be authentic and legit artwork from the Renaissance era or something.