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I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“Don’t drink too much at lunch,” he reminds me.
I giggle.
“I mean it, she hates drunks.”
“Oh.” He’s serious. “Okay.”
“And don’t tell her anything about us.”
I shrug. What could I possibly tell her—I don’t even know what’s going on. “Okay.”
“And—”
“Elliot,” I cut him off. “You’re making me more nervous than I already am,” I splutter.
“Sorry.” He exhales.
“I’ll see you this afternoon?”
“Alright. Bye babe.”
I hang up and rush to the bathroom to check how I look one last time. I’m wearing a black, long-sleeved dress that Daniel made me buy, and nude high heels with a matching clutch. My hair is styled and I have minimal makeup on.
I’m going for sensible-classy, not sure if I’ve achieved it, but whatever, this is all I’ve got.
The door buzzer sounds and I run out and push the intercom. “Hello.”
“Your car is here, Miss Landon,” a male voice replies.
“I’ll be right down.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and I let out a shaky deep breath, putting my hand over my stomach to try and calm the butterflies. What was I thinking, agreeing to this?
I make my way down and walk out to find a black limousine parked at the curb, and my nerves hit an all-time high.
Fuck.
The doorman opens the back door. “Miss Landon.” He nods.
“Thank you.”
I climb in to find Elizabeth sitting in the backseat; she smiles warmly. “Hello Kate.”
She’s immaculately dressed in designer labels and looks like a beautiful fashion model.
The look of money oozes out of her and I’m quite sure that Daniel would bow at her feet. Imagine the designers that would swarm around her.
“Hi.” The door shuts behind me; is it too late to run?
“I’ve booked us into my favorite restaurant.” She smiles. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” I clasp my hands in my lap so tightly that I nearly cut off the circulation.
Fifteen minutes later we pull up outside a swanky-looking restaurant and I follow her in. “Mrs. Miles.” The waiters all smile. “How lovely to see you.”
“Hello.”
“Your table is this way.”
We are shown to our table and the waitress asks, “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth smiles. “Would you like some wine, Kathryn?”
“No, thank you, I don’t drink that often,” I lie. “Just a mineral water for me, please.”
“Oh.” A trace of a smile crosses her face. “I’ll have the same.”
Her eyes hold mine and she links her fingers under her chin. “I can see why Elliot is so swept away with you, you’re lovely.”
I smile bashfully. “Ah . . .”
Our mineral water arrives and she pours us both a glass. “Has Elliot warned you not to elaborate on anything to me?”
Oh hell.
I smile shyly. “Maybe.”
“He’s a very private person.”
“Yes.” I nod. “I know.”
She opens her menu. “I’m afraid that out of all my children, growing up in the spotlight has had the biggest effect on Elliot.”
I frown as I listen.
“He guards his privacy with his life and I’m quite sure that some days he despises his surname.”
“I don’t think—”
“Now, now.” She cuts me off. “There’s no need to make excuses, my dear. I understand where he’s coming from.”
“Where is he coming from?” I whisper.
“Elliot is a dreamer,” she continues. “He lives in a world where he is forced to be a realist, but in his heart, he is a romantic.”
I smile; I already knew this from my interaction with Ed. “Yes, I know.”
“When he called me last week and told me that he was bringing a plus-one to his birthday dinner, I knew that you must be special to him.”
“Why is that?”
“Darling.” She takes my hand over the table. “You’re the first woman he’s ever brought home to us.”
My face falls as I stare at her. “He’s a very confusing man,” I whisper.
She gives me a knowing smile. “Hang in there, my dear.” She sips her drink. “Once Elliot commits to a woman, she would be his entire world.”
I drop my head. I know he told me not to tell her anything, but if there’s one woman who knows him better than anyone, it’s her. “It’s only early days, he doesn’t even want anyone to know that we’re seeing each other.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she replies. “Elliot hates press, he hates the invasion of his privacy. When they nicknamed him Casanova Miles he was mortified; he believes that once something becomes the property of the gossip pages, that it’s no longer special, or belongs to him.”
I frown.
“He’s watched Jameson go through very public battles with the media and the ramifications it has caused in his private life.”
I listen intently; this isn’t how I was expecting our conversation to go.
“He doesn’t want that for himself or his partner. In his own way, he is protecting you.”
“Who would ever have thought that a media family would hate the press so much?” I say.
