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Before she reaches me, I grab the letter and shove it into my bag. I wouldn’t want her to see the contents andreallypity me.
“Hey, Aurora.” Her expression brightens.
“Hi.” I smile back, hoping she hasn’t come to ask me why I haven’t touched my food. When a glint of amusement forms in her eyes, I decide it can’t be that.
“Guess what? The gentleman in the far corner of the bar is requesting that you join him for a drink on the terrace.” Her voice takes on an excited sing-song edge.
At first, I wonder if I heard her right, then I squint and intensify my stare. “Excuse me?”
“The gentleman at the bar.” She gestures to the bar, where my eyes lock with the Nordic blue ones of a man so striking, I have to look hard to establish that he’s real.
Dressed in a black button-down shirt and beige slacks, his presence takes over everything in the room with an elegant yet rugged masculine charm.
To simply call him handsome feels too meager a word. It’s like there’shandsome,and then there’s him.
Him with his thick black hair cut into a neat faux hawk, dark brows, sharp exotic cheekbones, and olive skin that looks like it’s been caressed by the sun.
He looks Italian, or like he’s from somewhere in the Mediterranean.
And Jesus, I’m staring at him. As my brain returns to earth, heat skates over my skin, making my entire body blush. Swiftly, I return my focus to Elena, my throat and mouth dry.
I lean in closer to her and whisper, “Are you sure you have the right table?”
Elena nods vigorously. “Yes, I’mcompletelysure.”
“Did he say why he wantedmeto join him?” I know that’s a silly question for several reasons. One, I’m obviously eating alone, and two, he’s a guy. A man would only request a woman to join him for dinner if there was something he liked about her.
Elena gives me a deadpan stare. “No, but why wouldn’t he?” The blunt ends of her brown hair swish over her shoulders. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you, but I feel like shit right now.” I sigh, hesitation gripping me. “I’m not sure I should—”
“You should.” She cuts me off faster than a bolt of lightning crackling through the sky in an angry storm, then wiggles her French-manicured fingernails before me. “Don’t you know who he is?” She lowers her voice a notch.
God.This is going to be one of those times when living in the writing cave is going to make me look like some sort of social recluse.
“No.” My tone is careful, my voice a fraction above a whisper.
“He’s literally been in the press for the last month.” She stares at me wide-eyed.
A month?That’s roughly about the same time my brain has lived on Mars, but just to double-check, I risk glancing back at the beautiful man. I groan inwardly when nothing comes to mind. Even in recluse mode, I would surely remember a man as good-looking as him.
“I’m drawing a blank.” My shoulders slump.
She gives me a saucy smile. “Then maybe it would be more fun if you did join him for a drink.”
“He wasn’t in the press for anything bad, was he?” That’s the last thing I need.
“No, I would be the first to warn you away if that were the case.”
“Can’t you at least give me a clue on who he is?”
Elena thinks for a moment before her playful smile returns. “Let’s just say he’s one of New York’s most sought-after men and of the mega-billionaire variety.” Stars practically glitter in her eyes as she speaks. “As in, he’s on theForbesBillionaire list.Andthat spot on the terrace he’s talking about is usually booked out for weeks, but whenever he’s here, it’shis.”
Okay, then.Anddayum.
Hesitation grips me again. This time, for other reasons. Therightreasons. Like my official engagement on Saturday, where Nathan will give me his ring. As that’s only two days away, I’m practically engaged now.
But realistically, am I?
