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I glare at him, and he gives me his innocent smile. “Have I told you lately that you are annoying as fuck?”
“Twice this morning. Clearly, that wasn’t enough,” he says with a grin. “So? How was it?”
“It was good. We raised five million dollars between the auction and the matches.”
“Wow! That’s great, but we both know I was referring to Isa,” Bastian says, giving me a pointed look.
I sit down and Bastian sits on the arm of one of my wing-backed chairs, which he knows annoys the fuck out of me.
“It went well. I’m picking her up this evening for another date,” I explain.
“What exactly is the end goal of thesedates?” he asks.
“I…well, I did have a dinner with some clients tonight, but it got canceled, so I thought we could go horseback riding,” I explain, trying to dodge his actual question.
“So…do you like her?” Bastian asks.
“Yes. Of course, I like her.”
“But do you,likelike her,” he prods.
“Oh, leave Mr. Wellington alone, you nosy man,” Mrs. Potter says from the door as she knocks and brings a tray in with some tea and cookies. It’s a habit she’s long had since I was a boy. I haven’t been able to stop her from doing it.
“Oh come on, Petunia, you know you are dying to know too!” Bastian exclaims as he walks over and grabs a cookie from the tray. Mrs. Potter slaps his hand but he manages to take one.
“It’s none of my business what Mr. Wellington does with his personal life.” She looks at me with a warm smile and pats my arm. “I just like seeing you happy, my dear.”
“Thank you,” I say to her, returning her smile. She’s the closest thing I have left to a mother, and I adore her.
“You said your dinner meeting in the city got canceled. Will you be eating here this evening?” she asks.
“I think we might,” I say as I look at Bastian. He smirks.
“What shall I make you lovebirds?” he asks.
“What? You actually are going to ask me?” I question.
He shrugs.
“I will text you a menu with something I have in mind and I also have another errand for you to run,” I add with a smirk.
He raises an eyebrow. I had heard Isa yelling at Felipe last night. It sounds like the dog ate her vibrator, so I think Bastian will need to run out and buy a new one. Then I consider it. Fuck, he’ll probably enjoy it, knowing him.
“Mrs. Potter, can you get Mr. Potter to get Apollo and Cleo saddled up for me? I’m going to pick up Isa,” I say.
She nods and leaves. Bastian looks at me. “I could drive you?” he suggests, his demeanor becoming serious for a moment.
“It’s alright. I’d rather ride,” I state.
“It’s not far,” Bastian urges. I know he wants me to get back in a car, but I just can’t do it. I’ve taken my helicopter and then the subway for years now or I’ve ridden my horse into town on the very rare occasions I’ve had to go there. It’s limited my ability to travel and do the things I used to love doing, but every time I get in a car, I feel the panic set in. My therapist says it’s PTSD and that eventually I may be able to overcome it. But I’m not so sure about that.
I send Bastian directions a minute after he leaves my office. And ten seconds later, he’s back inside.
“You want me to get what?” he says loudly.
“Steaks, fondant potatoes, asparagus with a hollandaise sauce,” I state as I try to keep myself from smirking.
“And?” Bastian prods.
