AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 16
Arianne
If I allow myself to forget all about Chance, the betrayal, the lies, and the deceit, I’d be willing to admit I’m sitting across from the perfect man.
Beckett Christensen is what every woman dreams of—a gentleman, an influencer, a force, and an Adonis oozing with charm. His devastatingly good looks and those insane blue eyes make him all the more irresistible.
I gave myself a good talking to before he arrived and I was determined to stand strong in my belief I was immune to my client’s charms. That’s until I opened the door. He’d ditched the bespoke suit, but he still looked delicious. The head-to-toe black look is a classic among men. Rare are those who exude the level of raw masculinity Beckett does.
I don’t know what his cologne is, but it smells like Eau de Pheromone.
It didn’t go unnoticed how women salivated all over themselves as we followed the waiter to our table. I swear, some had whiplash from craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the tall, sexy man trailing behind me. Beckett is being a kind soul by preventing me from spending the evening deep diving in a pint of Wunderlust ice cream, but I must say, knowing I’m the envy of all these women is pretty thrilling.
I’m not completely delusional, I know at the stroke of midnight, it all ends. But for now, I’m willing to step into the fairytale.
We’re at C’est Si Bon inside the Quintus Hotel.
It’s upscale dining experience at its best.
A lot of clients wined and dined me at five-star restaurants before, but they all take a backseat to this. Everything about the Quintus Hotel spells upscale.
Beckett tells me the restaurant is packed with Hollywood’s Who’s Who. I believe him. People here look like they’re made of money.
“This is exquisite,” I say, finishing the last drop of my drink. “The red wine and the restaurant.”
“Since you’ve never been to Paris—and Rhys made a point of highlighting it this morning—I thought this would be perfect,” he says.
“The way you say that makes it sounds like you two have a rivalry going on.”
“There’s no rivalry here,” Beckett says. “He’s sweating his balls off somewhere in Vietnam while I’m sitting across from the hottest woman in the restaurant. I win hands down.”
I laugh. And blush.
The man has my head spinning.
“Stop it,” I say. Or keep going.
“Flying to Paris overnight is a bit of a stretch—even when you own your own private jet.”—Of course.—“C’est Si Bon is the second-best thing. The food is spectacular, the wine list is refined, and the attentive service is irreproachable… in other words, it’s very holy chic.”
“You find clever ways of twisting things around.”
“I get that a lot.”
Why did that sound borderline perverted?
After tasting some of the most refined champagne in my life at Flûte Champagne Bar, we made our way to the second French restaurant in the hotel.
“You enjoyed your meal?” he asks.
“I believe I’ve been quite vocal about it since the first bite.”
“Yes, you have, but it would be ungentlemanly of me not to double check.”
“I enjoyed the meal immensely. So far, this evening rocks.”
“And to think it’s only getting started.”
Something I can’t make out veils his eyes.
