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CHAPTER 25
FREE FALL
RIAN
It’s almost five by the time Pierce returns. There were a lot of gnomes. And since they’d been in the garden, there was a mess of dirt to clean up. Apparently he needed a shower when he was finished. I’d like to say I feel bad, but I don’t, considering what he put me through yesterday.
I’m already dressed for dinner—the gnome situation having delayed our departure, so we’re heading straight to the restaurant instead of stopping at his condo first. The drive to Manhattan is rife with sexual tension, likely because I’ve told Pierce there won’t be any scoring at the end of the night. I’m not 100 percent convinced I’ll be able to stick to that. Not with him looking so delicious in a crisp black suit. Or with every other sentence out of his mouth dripping with innuendo.
It’s been ages since I’ve been to the city. I’m nervous as we pull up to the valet and my door is opened for me. I feel like some kind of imposter when Pierce links arms with me and guides me inside. I’ve been to this restaurant before, a long time ago, I realize, back when Broadway theater was a regular occurrence and a night in a luxury hotel was the norm for my family.
“Mr. Whitfield, it’s so nice to see you! It’s been too long.” The host takes his hand in both of his, shaking it warmly.
“It certainly has.”
“Your father was here last week and mentioned you were spending the summer in the Hamptons.”
When Pierce smiles. It’s warm but his voice holds a hint of tightness. “Just enjoying the beach.”
“Lovely, I’m sure.” The host, whose tag reads Karl, turns his smile on me. “And who is this stunning masterpiece you’ve brought with you tonight?”
I laugh as he bends to kiss the back of my hand.
“This is Miss Rian Sutter, with an i instead of a y.”
“Well, Miss Rian with an i, we’re very glad you’re joining us this evening.” He turns his attention back to Pierce. “Give us a moment and we’ll make sure your table is ready. Would you like to have a seat at the bar while you wait?”
Pierce defers to me.
“That sounds perfectly lovely.” I smooth a hand self-consciously over my hip, wishing I had a nicer dress, that I could match Pierce in his designer suit, instead of my bargain-find dress and knockoff shoes and purse. I know it doesn’t matter to him, but again I feel like an imposter. Someone who doesn’t quite fit in this world anymore.
Pierce’s palm rests against my low back as he leads me to the bar.
“How often do you bring dates here, Mr. Whitfield?” I ask quietly.
Pierce dips his head and presses his lips to my temple. “You would be the first, Miss Sutter. Usually I come here with my family.”
“They won’t be here, will they?”
He chuckles. “Absolutely not. I want you all to myself tonight. And there is no way in hell I would spring something like that on you without warning. My family requires preparation and shots to endure.”
“Amalie is sweet.”
“So she’ll have you believe.”
He leads us toward two open stools. “Excuse me, are these taken?” he asks, hand already on the back of the one beside a woman in a slinky black dress.
A diamond-clad hand flutters in the air, so close to my face that I take a step back into Pierce’s chest to avoid getting hit. “Not at a—” Big brown eyes go wide, and her mouth forms a pouty o. “Pierce!”
I feel him stiffen behind me, the hand on my shoulder tightening. “Stacey.”
She swivels in her chair, eyes sliding over me to Pierce. “What a surprise! I didn’t think you were due back in town for a few more weeks. Has everything been cleared up with the patent?”
“We’re here for the weekend.” His fingers glide down my arm and settle on my hip as he pulls me possessively into his side.
Her gaze finally shifts my way, as if she’s just noticing me. “Oh? Is this a friend?” Her smile is far from warm, it’s assessing and judgmental as she takes me in. She’s clearly very comfortable in her Louboutin shoes and her designer everything. Her hair is cut in a chic bob, lipstick perfect, lashes extended, her size-two figure maintained by God only knows how many hours of Pilates and I hope plastic surgery. I feel small under her assessment. And very much out of place.
“This is my girlfriend, Rian,” Pierce practically grits the words.
I have no idea who this woman is, but my disdain for her is immediate and I have a strong urge to protect Pierce from her, which seems ludicrous considering he’s clearly more than capable of taking care of himself.
“Girlfriend?” She presses her perfectly manicured hand to her chest. “Oh bless! Isn’t that sweet? Do you live in Manhattan, Rian, is it? What an interesting name.”
I would like to gouge this condescending bitch’s eyes out with a dessert spoon. “No. I live in the Hamptons.”
“Oh! Very nice. You’ve been playing around in the housing market out there with your brother this summer, haven’t you, Pierce? Getting your hands a bit dirty.” Her nose wrinkles, and I bristle at the comment, certain it’s directed at me.
“And how do you know Pierce, exactly?” I ask.
Her grin widens and she bats her lashes. “We were engaged. Young love, you know how it is, sometimes it doesn’t work out.”
“That’s so true.” I thread my fingers through Pierce’s. “Especially when you’re a ladder-climbing gold digger with no moral compass. I certainly hope this engagement works out for you, and that your current fiancé makes you as happy as I’m sure you made Pierce.” I turn and put a hand on his chest. “We should see if our table is ready. I find the bar in this place to be a little classless.”
Pierce bites back a smile as he skims my cheek with gentle fingers. “I couldn’t agree with you more.” His eyes stay on mine, his gratitude clear as he nods a cold acknowledgment to his ex-fiancée, and we head back to the host stand.
He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry about that. I really didn’t expect to see her, especially not here of all places.”
“Don’t apologize. We can go somewhere else if you want. We can even go back to your condo if you’d rather order takeout.”
“No. We’re here now, and I don’t want her to ruin our night. I’ll make sure there’s no way she’ll be seated anywhere near us.” He frowns. “Unless you want to go. I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. I’m more than willing to go toe-to-toe with that woman. I’ve been lifting sheets of drywall this summer; I’m pretty sure I can take her on if you want me to.”
He laughs and bends to kiss me softly. “God, you’re something else.”
It turns out we don’t have to wait, and Pierce has a brief, whispered conversation with the host whose brows dip and then rise. We’re led to the back of the restaurant, to a secluded, private room and seated at an intimate table for two with a curved, high-backed bench seat, covered in plush velvet so we can sit beside each other instead of across the table.
Pierce orders a bottle of champagne, and I peruse the menu, cringing at the prices. “This place is exceedingly expensive.”
He tilts his head, a questioning smile tipping his mouth. “I’m taking you out for dinner. You can do all the math you want in your head, but you’re not covering half and you don’t owe me anything.”
