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Still, I have to try.
I arrive at the restaurant clad in a simple black dress, my auburn hair cascading down my back in loose waves. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.
"Here goes nothing," I whisper to myself as I push open the heavy door and step inside.
The dimly lit restaurant is a stark contrast to the bright, lively diner I ate at with Billy last night. The air feels heavy, almost suffocating, as I make my way to the table where my father is supposed to be waiting for me. My heart races in anticipation of our conversation—or confrontation.
"Miss Hutchison?" A waiter greets me, pulling out a chair at an elegantly set table. "Your guest is already waiting."
"Thank you," I murmur, glancing around the room. But instead of my father, I find Daniel Collins seated across from me. A successful entrepreneur and family friend, he's dressed impeccably in a dark suit that seems to accentuate his broad shoulders and sharp jawline.
"Daniel?" I blink in surprise. "Where's my father?"
"Ah, Claire." His eyes light up with something that sends a shiver down my spine. "He couldn't make it tonight. But he thought it would be nice for us to catch up."
"Did he?" I can't help but narrow my eyes in suspicion. It doesn't take long for the pieces to fall into place, and realization dawns on me. My father set this up. He lured me here under false pretenses, hoping Daniel could somehow sway me away from Billy.
"Let's not waste the evening, Claire." Daniel leans in, his gaze lingering on my lips for a moment too long. "We both know your father isn't exactly thrilled about your...current choice of company."
Unbelievable.
I'm nearly vibrating with rage as I think of what degrading things my father must have said to Daniel about Billy.
"Look, Daniel," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm sorry if my father misled you, but I'm seeing someone, and it's pretty serious."
"Is that so?" Daniel's face sours as he swirls the wine in his glass. A warning bell goes off in my head. Daniel is too much like my father. He's not used to not getting his way.
"You know," he starts off diplomatically like we're negotiating over a business meeting, "I could give you so much more than him. A life of luxury, stability...a future."
"Money isn't everything," I retort, my anger simmering beneath the surface. "Billy loves me, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make my dreams come true."
"Ah,love." Daniel clucks as he looks at me with a pitying glance. "You were always such a naive girl." His eyes take on a strange light as he looks me up and down, "But I've always loved your innocence, Claire."
"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," I snap as I push back my chair. I've got to get out of here. Coming here was a mistake. "Goodnight, Daniel."
As I try to make my getaway, Daniel's hand shoots out, grabbing my arm with a vice-like grip.
"Not so fast, Claire," he says, his voice low and dangerous.
Icy fear grips my heart as I struggle to free myself from his grasp.
I should have known better than to trust my father.
CHAPTER7
Billy
I followbehind Claire as she walks up the steps to the restaurant, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I know I agreed to let her meet her father alone, but I can't help myself. I'm too obsessed with her to not secretly follow her and make sure she's okay. It makes me an obsessive stalker, but I don't care. She's my woman, and I can't let her go unprotected.
"Le Rêve" reads the illuminated sign above the entrance. The restaurant is fancy, with gold-trimmed windows and a valet in a pristine uniform opening car doors for guests. As I slip inside, I catch a glimpse of myself in a gilded mirror. I look so out of place. These are my best clothes, but they're still not good enough to be standing amidst this opulence.
My insecurity flares up as I come face to face with the world Claire grew up in. I'm struck by how out of my league she is, but then I remind myself that Claire's not like the rich folk she grew up around. She loves helping others and spends her weekends volunteering at soup kitchens. Most importantly, she loves me.
"Table for one?" a hostess asks, her eyebrows raised as she takes in my appearance. I shake my head and motion towards the bar. "I'll just sit there, thanks."
"Very well," she replies, leading me to a barstool near the back. I perch on the edge, scanning the dining room for any sign of Claire.
Finally, I spot her. Her long auburn hair cascades down her back, and her green eyes sparkle beneath the chandelier. She looks beautiful, dressed in a simple black dress that clings to her curves.
