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Her nervous reaction makes me wonder what’s up. Meg should be happy to get away from that place. It’s been her home and workplace for too long. Little does she know what I have in store for her tonight.
“Just relax,” I say to her. “It won’t take very long to get to where we’re going.”
My words seem to soothe her anxiety, and she sips her champagne as she looks out the window.
I hold her hand, and for a moment we’re both feeling the heat that flies between us. There’s no denying our connection, but what she doesn’t understand is that I have a suite at the Ritz Carlton booked and ready for us to take advantage of. I’m going to wine and dine her, and then take her up to the room and ravage her. This will be a night she’ll never forget.
“So, are you ready to get away from the house for a while?” I ask.
She looks at me with those big green eyes and it’s hard not to take her right here, right now. But I hold back. I want things to be special with Meg. I want her to know she’s more important to me than a one-night stand. How important, I’m not yet willing to quantify—but she’s rare. I’m sure of that.
“I am. But I love the mansion. It’s very beautiful and it’s starting to feel like home,” she says.
“That’s good,” I say.
Inside, I’m wondering with jealousy what she’s experienced with my other brothers. We’ve always competed for women, and it’s always been sort of a game. But something about Meg makes me feel like this is real life and that I can’t mess it up.
We drive for a while and eventually get to our destination. She looks knowingly at the Ritz Carlton and seems pleased that we’re here.
They let us in the gates, and the familiar valet offers to park the limousine to which my driver says no.
“We’ll be staying the night,” I say to both the valet and the limo driver.
The driver speeds off and Meg is left holding the roses in her arms. She looks beautiful, cast against the dusky light of the setting sun.
We walk into the Ritz and everybody knows who I am. It’s part of the territory that comes with being a Belcourt brother. I’m used to the attention, but tonight I also know that the eyes following us are on Meg. Who could resist looking at her? She’s sophisticated, classy, and gorgeous.
I don’t mind sharing the limelight with her. She deserves every inch of praise that she gets in life. And it makes me feel proud walking with her, someone so obviously at ease in her own skin.
The hostess leads us straight away to our VIP table in the back.
“It’s so night nice to see you again, Mr. Knight,” she says, looking at me with hungry eyes.
Meg doesn’t know that I slept with the hostess and most of the waitresses here. When you get out into the country, there are fewer places to meet people, and so I’ve run into many one night stands after the fact and it’s always awkward. I don’t plan on telling this to Meg. She knows that I’m a playboy, so there’s no point rubbing it in.
“You too, Whitney. It’s nice to be back at the Ritz,” I say.
Meg shoots me a knowing look, and I can tell she understands that something’s happened between me and this hostess. She’s not dumb. But at the same time, she’s nice enough not to bring it up or to break my balls over the fact that I know this woman.
Soon we’re seated at our table, and the hostess has arranged for the flowers to be taken up to the room.
The waiter approaches us and his eyes are all over Meg. It causes me to feel possessive of her, and I wonder where this feeling is coming from. I normally don’t care so much about the women I date, but there’s definitely something different about Meg.
“May I take your drink order?” he says.
Meg looks over the cocktail menu. “What would you suggest?”
He’s happy to inform her and leans in a little too close, showing her his favorite drink on the menu.
“If you like wine, this is our menu. I would recommend the vintage Pinot Noir,” he says, not taking his eyes off of her.
“Great, we’ll have two glasses of that,” I say, trying to take charge of the situation.
I definitely don’t need some waiter trying to spoil my evening with Meg. The fact that I feel like this is disrupting me enough.
“So,” she says, leaning into me. “Tell me more about yourself. I know you went to an Ivy League school, but beyond that, we haven’t had a chance to talk very much.”
I smile at her, “Well, there’s not much to say. I’m an engineer, developing new space engine technology. I’ve traveled a lot around the world, and I love to climb mountains.”
