by Brook Wilder
I was just about to turn to make my way back to the dressing room when I remembered two things. First, I remembered the electricity I'd felt when I first set eyes on Garrett Rutherford. I'd never felt anything like that before with any man, let alone a man I had just seen. I had never been one to truly believe in love at first sight, but I couldn't deny that Garrett and I seemed to have an instant chemistry.
Second, I thought about Victor's confrontation in the hallway and the pure jealousy in his eyes. He didn't want me to go on this date, and I was certain that it wasn't because he was concerned for my safety. I realized that part of my hesitation was because I was worried about what Victor would think. Maybe he was worried about me, but he was mostly jealous that someone else had beaten him to me. There was no reason for me to care so much about another man's opinion, especially a man that I definitely wasn't romantically interested in. Still, Victor was my friend and I knew that our relationship would be drastically different come tomorrow.
I had to make a decision, now.
In a moment of sheer impulse, I started walking forward, toward Garrett. I saw a small smile flicker across his lips before they clamped back down into their cold frown, and I felt like I caught a small glimpse of Garrett behind his marble mask. Warnings and red flags be damned. One look from Garrett Rutherford had awakened something in me, and I wasn't about to let him get away before I found out why.
CHAPTER SIX
Garrett started walking again before I had quite caught up with him, making it quite clear that he expected me to stay a step or two behind him. I followed him out the door of the ballroom and down the steps toward a large, black SUV idling at the curb. He stopped at the side of the car and waited for the driver to walk around.
"Logan, you will sit up front," Garrett said evenly without even glancing to Logan.
The driver opened the passenger door, closing it behind Logan, and then opened the back seat. Garrett said nothing, only pointedly glancing toward the door then back at me. I swallowed nervously, knowing that, once I entered that car, there would be no turning back. Before all my courage left me, I clambered into the car as gracefully as I could manage. Garrett slid in after me, and the driver snapped the door shut as Garrett unbuttoned his blazer.
As we set off, I gazed around the interior of the car. It was all black, from the floorboards to the blacked out windows to the privacy panel that separated us from the front seats. It was spacious as well. The leather seats were set further back than normal, allowing for quite a bit of leg room, and I spotted what looked like a mini bar on the floor in front of us. It all gave off an air of luxury, one that didn't quite seem fitting for the flannel-wearing man sitting next to me. Without a word, Garrett reached forward and pulled an already opened bottle of champagne out of the mini bar and handed me a glass.
"Are you enjoying yourself so far, Laina?" he asked as he poured. I didn't respond at first as I was too distracted by the new surroundings. "You will speak when you're spoken to," he continued sternly.
"I am," I said. I wondered if I was just going to spend the rest of the evening permanently blushing. There was a part of me that riled at being scolded like a child, but there was another, deeper part of me that was thrilled by it.
"Good," Garrett said. He raised his glass as if to toast and I did the same. "To the evening, and to the beautiful woman spending it with me."
We clinked glasses and sipped. After he set his glass down, I once again felt the icy blast of his stare. He wasn't looking at my eyes this time; instead, his gaze was focused on my chest and hips, as if he was trying to see through the layers of cotton that concealed my skin.
"You're looking to study pediatric medicine," he said, his glance still trained on my body.
"Yes," I replied, trying desperately to keep my voice even. Was this really all this date was going to be? Him just staring at me like a piece of meat? "I won't' really start specializing until medical school, but I'm taking a few courses now on the subject."
"Hmmm," he said, bringing his hand over to touch my thigh. "Interesting. Are all medical students this irresistible, or just you?"
"Well, I'm not sure about that…" I stuttered.
"Innocent and sexy, my favorite combination," he said.
His voice was still sharply cold, but I could see a fire growing in his eyes. While I still sat and tried to keep from any movement that might encourage him, I was secretly thrilled that I was apparently capable of inspiring his lust. There was a small, doubting voice at the back of my mind, though, that insisted he would feel the same about any woman.
"Tell me," he said. "Do you often sleep with men on the first date, or am I going to be the exception?"
I glanced nervously at the divider before I responded. Garrett saw this and let out a throaty chuckle.
"They can't hear us, Laina," he continued. "The entire cabin is soundproofed."
"I take it you like your privacy?" I said.
"You could say that," he replied. "Stop avoiding my question, Laina."
"It's been so long since I've been on a real first date, but I imagine you'd be the exception."
"Wonderful," he said. His hand, which had never moved from my thigh began to work its way up the rest of my body. "It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity."
I looked away as his hand climbed further, uncomfortable with such intimate contact from a stranger. I stared out the dark window, trying to make out where the car was heading, hoping for any sort of distraction. It had seemed like we were heading toward the Upper East Side, based on the way we had exited the hotel, but it was impossible to make out anything through the black glass. I jumped slightly when I felt Garrett's fingers on my cheek. Sparks seemed to crackle on my skin as he turned my face back to meet his.
"You'll have to wait to see where we're headed," he said. "I promise you, it's going to be something we'll both enjoy."
His thumb began to lightly stroke my chin as his other hand settled on the curve of my hip. I tried to relax under his touch. I couldn't deny that it felt good, but my body remained stiff with anxiety.
"Here," he said, removing his hands from my body, "have another drink, it'll calm you. You're too tense for what I have planned for tonight."
I took the glass from him and sipped the champagne. I certainly was starting to feel more relaxed, and there was a warm feeling in my core that I couldn't entirely blame on the alcohol. His hand returned to my thigh, creeping upward with each passing second. It actually felt nice, and something deep within me started to thrum with excitement. We sat there in silence for a few more minutes before I realized the car was slowing down.
The car rolled to a stop and I gazed out the window, trying to get some idea of where we were going next. Though I knew the rules of the charity had stated we were to have our date in a public restaurant of some sort, part of me irrationally hoped that I would step out to see the entrance of his undoubtedly swanky penthouse.
What I saw when the driver opened my door was even better than that. I immediately recognized Columbus Circle. The driver had dropped us off at the main entrance to the Circle Mall and I turned to see the statue of Christopher Columbus towering over the flurry of passing cars.
I watched as Garrett leaned into the driver, whispering as he discreetly pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it to the driver. The car sped away shortly after the driver hopped back in, and I felt the floor fall out of my stomach. I opened my mouth to speak, but apparently, my question was written all over my face.
"I know I'm breaking the rules," he said with a grin that told me he wasn't sorry in the least, "but I want you for myself tonight. Logan would only get in the way."
"But…" I started.
"He will report back to the charity committee that everything went smoothly. There's a script in the envelope along with enough money to make it worth his while."
I didn't move from my spot on the pavement, my face still etched with worry. Seeing that I wasn't convinced, Garrett con
tinued, "We'll enjoy a nice evening together, and I will make sure that you are returned home safely at the end. Understood?"
I nodded and followed Garrett as he turned to enter the mall. When we reached the elevator, he punched the button for the fourth floor. As soon as the doors closed, he reached over to place his hand gently against my neck. Pulling me up toward him, he let his mouth hover inches from mine. I could feel his hot breath on me, and I took in a deep lung full of his musky cologne. Between his touch, his smell, and the way he talked about me on the ride over, I was about ready to fall apart right there in the elevator. Just as I thought he was about to kiss me, the doors flew open with a ding and he strode out.
I stumbled slightly and followed him into the hallway. There were several restaurants on this floor, but I knew where we were going as soon as I laid eyes on its iconic blue doors.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I followed Garrett through the blue doors of Per Se, my mind racing. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in Columbus Circle and certainly one of the more difficult restaurants to secure a reservation with. None of that seemed to bother Garrett, though. He strode up to the hostess station with confidence and the woman simply nodded and gestured for us to follow her. I looked around the restaurant at the already seated patrons and felt horrifically out of place. Everyone was wearing expensive looking suits and dresses that I'm sure cost more than my semester's tuition. Even the wait staff was dressed to the nines. I glanced back to Garrett, striding confidently in front of me, and noticed once again that he was wearing jeans. I could have sworn this restaurant had a dress code. Was he that influential, that he could break those kinds of rules so easily?
He pulled my chair out for me when we reached our table by the window, and my heart thrilled at the romantic gesture. Once I was seated, Garrett sat himself and began chatting easily with the waiter. His expression, which had been so cold during our ride in the car, had softened greatly. He was laughing and smiling with the waiter, and I realized how much I liked the way his grin lit up his face. I knew then that it would be my mission in the little time we had together to see that smile directed toward me.
"All right," Garrett said playfully after a couple minutes of intense discussion, "you've sold me. We'll take a bottle of the '48 Chateau Tour."
"Very good sir," the waiter replied before briskly turning away from us.
Almost as soon as the waiter's gaze drifted from him, Garrett dropped his happy demeanor. It was fascinating to watch the expression ripple off of his face like a sheet falling from a clothesline. He reached across the table toward me, and I thought for a second he was going to take my hand. Instead, he grasped the menu in front of me, picked it up, and placed it under his.
"You won't be needing that," he said in a matter of fact tone that left little room for argument.
Normally I would bristle at the thought of my date ordering for me, but the brief time I'd had to examine the menu had told me how far out of my depth I was. Maybe next time I would stand up for myself, but I was more than happy to let Garrett decide in this instance.
My thoughts stopped in their tracks. Next time? This was only the first date, one that still had the chance to go quite badly, and I was already easily contemplating the future. I needed to snap out of this. This date, this whole evening, was a small blip in the course of my life. There was no way a man like Garrett Rutherford would willingly take me out again.
"Tell me, Laina, about you," Garret said.
Before I could answer, the waiter returned to our table to serve us our wine. Garrett's cheerful act began again as the man poured our glasses. I graciously sipped mine as the two men looked on, and I saw a hint of relaxation when I declared my approval. I could tell that this was a very expensive bottle, but, honestly, I really couldn't taste too much of a difference. Once the waiter retreated again, Garrett turned to me expectantly. Distracted by the wine, I scrambled to not only remember what he had asked me, but to also put together my response.
"Um, well," I said. "I was born near Scranton, Pennsylvania, and lived there my whole life until I left for College at NYU."
"Any brothers, sisters?" he asked between sips of wine. "Parents still living?"
I could tell from the predatory look in his eye that this wasn't just polite conversation. He was gathering information on me and storing it away. I wasn't sure what his end game was, but I suddenly felt nervous about revealing too much to him. I quickly gathered my words, hoping I could give him enough to satisfy his curiosity without burdening him with all of my problems.
"I'm an only child, and my dad still lives in Scranton," I said carefully. "My mom passed away."
"That's a shame," he said, and I almost saw a hint of compassion in his eyes. "My condolences for your loss."
"Thank you. She died when I was very little, so I don't remember much about her. My dad said she was a great woman, though, so I wish I'd had the chance to meet her," I said. I knew my next question could be a dangerous one, but I blazed forward anyway. "What about you?"
Garrett paused, holding his glass midair, debating if he wanted to answer me or not. Truthfully, I didn't really need him to answer my question. A quick Google search once I got back to my apartment would probably tell me anything I needed to know. I was testing him, and his narrowed glance told me he knew that.
"Excuse me?" he asked, a hint of warning in his voice.
"I told you about myself," I said innocently, "it's only fair you return the favor."
"I was born and raised in the city," he said with a shrug. "My mother, like yours, died when I was an infant, leaving me an only child. My father raised me as best he could before sending me away to boarding school. When I was old enough, he passed on the title of CEO, something that he'd been grooming me for since before I could walk."
"What's he like?" I asked. There had been a small hitch and a sideways glance when he first spoke about his father, telling me there was so much more to the story than he was letting on.
"My father?" he replied, his eyes blazing. "Dead. Suffered a heart attack last year, and left me everything in his will."
"I'm sorry," I said, my gaze dropping to the table. "I didn't realize…"
"You are forgiven," Garrett replied lightly. "But only if you tell me why you decided to take part in that auction tonight. A girl like you…" he trailed off with a glance to my chest, "shouldn't be that hard up for a date."
"Victor, the guy who tried to bid against you, is a friend of mine and part of the club that hosted the event. A girl dropped out at the last second, and he asked me to cover," I said.
"So you did it for Victor," Garrett mused, a small knot of concern forming in his brow. "Is he important to you?"
"He's a friend, and that's all," I said resolutely and Garrett relaxed. "Truthfully, I did it for the compensation."
"It's only a couple hundred dollars, if memory serves," Garrett said, tilting his head to the side.
"I know, but I, uh, wanted some new clothes," I said, hoping my lie was convincing enough. I knew it was nothing to be ashamed of, but something inside of me warned me not to tell this man about my money issues.
"Good! You could certainly use them," said a female voice from behind Garrett. I saw hard lines of anger forming on his face as he turned to confront the woman.
"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice eerily calm.
"I only mean, Mr. Rutherford," the woman replied in an annoyed tone. "That if you intend on bringing street tramps as your date, you could at least do us the decency of clothing them in something better than that off the rack monstrosity."
I dropped my gaze to my hands, shame burning through my entire body. I knew she was right, I certainly couldn't measure up clothing wise to the rest of the women here, but to have someone actually point it out made it even worse.
"All due respect, Senator," Garrett replied coolly. "Though I never agreed with his politics, I've been more than happy to continue contributing to your campaign fund on behalf of my fat
her. If wish to keep receiving my company's funding, I would strongly advise you keep your opinions to yourself." The woman started sputtering in reply, but Garrett continued coolly. "I also suggest that if you wish to insult other women's attire that you return that knock-off Chanel handbag to whichever stall in Chinatown you purchased it from."
Garrett then turned back to me, ignoring the woman gaping at him in surprise. I stifled a small grin, happy that Garrett was so willing to shut down that woman just for making a snide comment about my appearance. The Senator and her date then stood and stormed out of the restaurant, but Garrett paid them no attention.
"You didn't need to do that," I said as I watched them go.
"You are my date for the evening," he replied. "To insult my date is to insult my taste, and no one insults my taste."
I was about to challenge his motives when our waiter returned, and I saw the mask fly up to Garrett's face once again. I wondered which Garrett was the real one, the happy dinner patron or the cold controller. What if it was neither? I examined Garrett for any hint of a break in his armor while he placed an order for two of the chef's tasting menus. The most expensive restaurant I'd ever been to was an Olive Garden, so I knew I was in for a surprise.