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Christopher
"Wine?" I ask when the waiter comes to our table. Michelle only nods in response, and I order a bottle of pinot noir, which will be perfect for our steaks.
"Christopher, about that family dinner on Sunday," Michelle says as the waiter walks away, "I don't mind if you go alone. I'll go for a walk in the city. I'm not..."
"I'd like you to come with me," I interrupt, looking directly at her.
She seems nervous, even though she looks stunning in the long red dress I presented her with this morning as a reward for excellent work. She didn't want to take it at first, but she changed her mind when I said that I'd throw it into the trash bin. And then she found out that we're going to a Michelin restaurant, so she decided to wear it today.
"Please," I add after a couple of seconds, and her eyes go round in surprise.
That's probably the first time I’ve said it to her. I don't even remember when I used this word for the last time.
"Why didn't you tell me that I would be working with Celeste? It would save you a lot of time," she asks after a pause, twirling her hair on her finger.
I can't take my eyes off her. I can't believe she has such beautiful curls. Why the hell was she hiding them from me? And the way she’s playing with them now, this simple gesture arouses me, distracting from our conversation.
"This small family inn is a gift to Celeste," I start, clearing my throat. "She always wanted to run an inn, but she's a single mom with a child; she had no time. Until now."
I take a sip of water, trying to distract myself from Michelle's gorgeous neck and her unique ability to turn me on without even trying. I shouldn't have bought her a dress with a V-neck. It was a bad idea.
"But it wasn't a surprise. She knew about it before," Michelle insists because obviously, I didn't answer her question.
"Yes, I asked her to move to New York at first, to run one of my hotels, but she refused," I explain, perfectly aware that Michelle won't stop there. She's determined to find the truth.
The waiter fills our glasses with wine, and I ask him to leave the bottle on the table. I truly believe we both need this wine to have an honest conversation with each other.
"She wanted to stay here, in Spokane, to raise her child," I continue, and see that Michelle finally stopped playing with her hair and picked up her glass of wine. "I support her decision, so I bought a hotel here."
"Then why didn't I work with her?" she insists, drinking half the glass in one gulp. I guess she's just as nervous as I am.
"Because I wanted to be present in all the processes."
"Why?"
I smile. This woman is incredible. She catches the lie a mile away but can't see the obvious, right here in front of her.
I drink my glass of wine in one gulp and then pour more for her and myself. She's looking at me quite surprised but doesn't say anything.
"Let's make a deal," I start, deciding that I'm sick of this fighting game when I obviously feel nothing like that to this woman. "I'll answer any of your questions honestly if you do the same."
She laughs, and her cheeks flush, probably from the wine.
"How will I know if you're being honest?" She takes another sip of wine; her eyes are glittering. She's already tipsy. I shouldn't allow her to drink that much wine before we even have our salads. I want to talk to her, not get her drunk.
"I’ve never lied to you," I say honestly, and it's true. I've lied to many people in my life, mainly because of money or to get a better deal, but I’ve never lied to Michelle.
Her face changes, the smile evaporating. Her gaze is intense as we stare at each other. She doesn't seem tipsy anymore.
"Okay," she exhales finally, "but trust me, one bottle is not enough for you to make me tell you all of my secrets."
I laugh, relieved that she’s agreeing to my terms. If I'm going to be the one to tell her about my feelings, at least I need to know that her relationship with that asshole is over. She has to tell me that they're done.
"So, Mr. Cold," she starts, looking at me with a sly smile, "why did you want to work with me?"
Precisely the question I was waiting for and was afraid of at the same time.
"To be honest, I don't know." I shrug, trying to remember why I offered her a job in the first place. Because she was hot? No, it's not just that.
