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“Yes, Ma’am.” I flash her my brightest smile. “We went to university together.”
“How wonderful! I’m Pricilla, Eleanor’s mother.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Maxwell.”
“Won’t you join us for dinner, Mr Preston?” Pricilla says sweetly.
Before I can answer, Elle appears from her building and marches over in a huff when she sees me talking to her parents. She’s changed into a simple black dress with thins straps, a low sweeping neckline and a hem that hits mid-thigh. It’s cold out but she doesn’t have a jacket, her black heels are possibly the highest I’ve seen her in, her hair has been artfully pinned, and her makeup expertly applied.
“Why are you still here?” she hisses at me.
“Eleanor! Don’t be so rude,” her mother admonishes.
“Your parents have very kindly invited me to dinner,” I tell her with a smile.
“Well, you can’t come,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“Eleanor.” Byron gives her a narrowed glare, one I’m sure most grown men would cower at, but she just throws one back in his face.
“Actually, I was just about to tell them that I would love to.” She turns that anger back to me, her brows knitting in confusion as she tries to figure out my game. If I’m honest, I have no idea what my end goal is here. I should stay well away from Elle. I should give her the chance to run from me. But just as I had in university, I am growing more and more addicted the more time I spend with her.
When she realises that there is no way out, she just slumps her shoulders and looks to the stars. “Fine.”
We all pile into the limo, Peter in the front next to the driver who has apparently been waiting patiently while we all had a nice little chit chat out in the cold. I slide in the back next to Elle so the sides of our bodies are connected the whole journey. She’s tense, tapping her foot and tapping her fingers on her leg. I can’t be sure that her anxiety isn’t because I am here, but I know she always got this way before her parents came around and I was often able to calm those nerves. I want to be that guy for her now. I take her hand in mine, wrapping my fingers around hers to stop the tick. She stares down at our clasped hands but doesn’t pull away, so I keep the contact until we arrive. I don’t miss the way her mother smiles at the sight.
26
ELLE
The restaurant is just the level of arrogant opulence one would expect from Byron and Pricilla Maxwell. The high ceilings are adorned with crystal chandeliers, providing a romantic level of lighting. The exclusively round tables are all laid with crisp white tablecloths and gleaming silverware. Piano music sounds throughout the room via a hidden sound system, and waiters float between tables in impeccable white shirts with black waistcoats and pressed trousers covered by black half aprons.
The four of us sit in highly charged silence. My mother smiles warmly at Lance because he is the picture of the perfect partner she’s always wanted for me, with his Prada suit and veil of arrogance.Never gonna happen. Lance Preston is the devil and I will not be sucked into his pretty inferno again. He sits cool as a cucumber, as though he isn’t intruding at all. I can’t help my narrowed glare at him, which only seems to fuel his smug grin.
“So, Mr Preston, what business is it you’re in exactly?” my father asks.
“Please, call me Lance,” he responds with a pearly white smile. “Property, mostly. We own real estate in the Northeast sector of the city, mostly buildings that house hospitality businesses; hotels, restaurants, etcetera. On a few of them, we own the businesses themselves but mostly rent the spaces out to established brands.” His answer is given so smoothly, almost rehearsed, but it appeases my father who nods.
“And you’ll be buying the establishment where Eleanor works?” Mum asks as though the subject hadn’t already come up in the limo on the way over.
“I hope so.”
“So, will that just be the building or the business? It would be lovely to see something else there, something a little more cultural.”
I roll my eyes as my mother casually throws out there that she’d like me to be out of a job. It doesn’t seem to escape Lance’s notice as he raises a single brow. “We would be taking over the club, too, and keeping it as it is. It’s an incredibly lucrative business. Thanks, in no small part, to your daughter.”
My stupid heart leaps in my chest at his compliment.Stop it. It is pathetic to be so desperate for love to get all the feels over a few nice words. Mum purses her lips, clearly disagreeing with him but not wanting to argue.
A waiter approaches our table to take drinks orders; he is young, maybe only just into his twenties with retro looking curtain bangs and a cute face. His eyes linger on me slightly longer than is appropriate and I smile brightly up at him, uncrossing my arms from my chest to let my cleavage show. His flush, and quickly averted gaze, make me mentally pat myself on the back for choosing this outfit. The clearing of my father’s throat draws the poor boy’s attention back to the task at hand, and Dad orders wine for the table without bothering to ask what anyone wants.
“Actually,” I grab the waiter’s wrist before he can go to fulfil the order. He swallows hard and I can see the strain in keeping his eyes on my face as I lean over the table. “What’s the best rum you have?”
“Err…we have a Don Papa…”
“I’ll take a double, neat.”
He nods. “Sure.”
“Thank you,” I say sweetly, releasing him.
