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Mr. Lavin leans forwards, starting to say something but has to lean back when the waiter arrives. After hearing an impressive array of specials, I point randomly to something on the menu. Mr. Lavin orders filet mignon and a bottle of wine with a name that I can’t pronounce.
I look around the restaurant. Les Printemps is a well-established, very fancy, restaurant and often a meeting place between the movers and shakers of D.C. Now I’m here, wearing my best little black dress and dining with a client. This feels surreal.
“Thank you for the invitation. I appreciate the opportunity. We didn’t really have time to talk at the office.”
“Of course,” he purrs. “I’ve been intrigued by you from the start. Am I wrong that you felt it, too?”
I pause. Maybe this is a language barrier but I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable.
“Oh no, I’ve definitely been intrigued by Lavin Fashions from the start. The way you mix the masculine and the feminine is groundbreaking. Your designs have ushered in a new way of thinking about the female form.”
“Cara mia, I am always thinking about the female form.”
His slow smile is so intimate that I can almost hear the woman at the next table sigh. Jeez, this guy just drips Italian charisma. You can almost get high from the pheromones. I don’t even think he realizes the effect he has. Flirting is just second nature to him.
“Of course. But in regards to the campaign–”
My eyes land on a man sitting right behind Mr. Lavin. He was seated a few minutes ago and it barely registered. I’ve been completely focused on explaining my bad behavior. But when he shifts his menu to the left, I can’t deny that something about the shape of those shoulders is really familiar.
“More wine, Mya?”
I snap back to attention. “No, thank you. It’s probably better if I don’t. Otherwise I might forget everything I wanted to discuss.”
He winks. “There is no need to rush, bella. We have all night.”
“All night? Why would we have all night?” Oh god, did I zone out and miss something? Focus, Mya.
He pauses, his fingers on the stem of his wineglass. “Well, I assumed after dinner perhaps we could go dancing. Whatever you wish.”
Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me pause. My eyes bounce over the table, the single candle in the middle, the lily he presented me with when I arrived. If I hadn’t come charging in here so focused on professional redemption, I would have seen it before.
This scenario looks nothing like a business meeting. The stage has been set for romance not business.
I’m on a date with Andre Lavin.
“Oh boy,” I whisper under my breath.
If you’d asked me earlier if there was any way I could screw up this business arrangement any worse, I’d have assured you that we were already at rock bottom. But now I’m on a date, that I didn’t know was a date, talking about business while Mr. Lavin has apparently been talking about something else entirely.
As Ariana would say, fuck a duck.
“Mr. Lavin–”
“Andre,” he corrects automatically.
“Right. This is awkward. I’m not really sure what to say. I wasn’t aware that this was a personal…” I struggle to find the right words, “meeting.”
He leans across the table, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “You are a very beautiful woman, Mya. I find you intoxicating.”
Despite not being interested at all, I find myself melting a little under that gaze. Hey, don’t judge me until you’ve sat in a dimly lit room across from a handsome billionaire while he calls you intoxicating. Most women would have already thrown their panties at him.
“Wow. I honestly don’t know what to say. This is a bit of a shock.” And also a potential landmine. If I stay, I risk him getting the wrong idea. If I go, then I might offend him and damage any chance there is of Mirage getting his business.
His eyes narrow slightly. “I was under the impression that you were aware of my interest. Ever since Vegas.”
“When Milo told you he’d be the best fit for this job? Yeah, I overheard you two talking. That’s why I’m here. I wanted the chance to talk about my ideas for your campaign. I’m not sure what Milo told you but I really feel that my ideas for marketing the groom’s tuxedos alongside the bridal gowns will set you apart.”
Andre sits back, his expression measured. “Is that what you think we talked about in Vegas? No, we didn’t talk about the account. We talked about you.”
