He stared out the window, his eyes lost somewhere over the Hudson. “My Sunday’s are usually quiet. But unfortunately today, I owe an old friend a brunch.”
Something tugged at her chest at his vagueness. Was he meeting a woman? An old flame? The distant look in his eyes may have suggested someone he cared about. And clearly didn’t want her knowing.
She urged herself to snap out of it. It wasn’t as if she had any claim to him.
She drew in a deep breath and walked back to grab her shirt. “Hope this person doesn’t take up too much of your much needed radio-silent day.”
She felt his eyes behind her as she slipped the silky shirt over her head. She gasped at the warm hands that came up her back and guided the shirt down. He twisted her to face him; his eyes bright with amusement.
“It’s not what you think.” He eyed her intensely, before what appeared to be a decisive moment in his head. “In fact, why don’t you come with me?”
She huffed. “Scott, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“As a matter of fact, I think I do. But not to prove that it isn’t a woman I’m going to see; I just realized it’s an opportunity to prove to you that I am not the ruthless and nonnegotiable businessman that It’s Just Business and Take It or Leave It articles said about me.”
She eyed him skeptically. “I knew you’d look it up.”
“I want you to meet someone who has a slightly different opinion and is in no way bias.”
He was asking her to go to a brunch with an old business acquaintance? No harm in that.
She should leave and think about what the hell she was going to do before meeting any friends of his.
The last thing she needed was a heartbreak from a wealth-focused billionaire who would only expect equality in a companion.
Or a one-night stand.
She looked up at his waiting eyes and nodded once; remembering she was Isabel. The mystery socialite who knew to hold her own in a room full of Fortune-500 CEO’s and no one, not even Scott Weston and the deep feelings that were growing for him, would ever intimidate her. Not his muscular arms or his deep green eyes. Not even his selective generosity to struggling businesses.
The man couldn’t be perfect.
There were his exquisite looks—and then there was the way that Scott made her feel when he touched her. Or made her insides flip with a single look. The impossible way he read every expression; noticing what she liked and when she was uncomfortable.
And now she was letting him do the very thing that made her steer clear of anyone who tried; he was finding a way into her heart.
“Okay,” she said before reaching to pick up her mug. “But first, I think I’ll go try and add some coffee to my froth here.”
Elle sat on the stool by the kitchen island, watching Scott in front of the stove. In a white t-shirt and dark jeans, he flipped scrambled eggs onto two small plates. Insisting she have protein with her coffee. This man needed to stop proving to her that he was God-sent or she was going to lose it.
“So, I promised I wouldn’t ask about your business-life. But can I ask about family?”
No harm in that, she supposed, besides there wasn’t much to tell. Nothing about her life stuck out as extraordinary. She was very close with her father, but avoided her cynical mother like the plague. Conversations with the woman always left a bad taste in her mouth that required weeks of self-motivation and reassurance from close friends to move on.
“Not much excitement here I’m afraid. I grew up upstate. Moved to the city for school and never went back.”
Scott frowned. “Like ever?”
Elle blinked. “Well, of course for the holidays—” she lied. “But most of the time I’m too busy with work.”
Scott leaned over the counter. “Sounds like an excuse.”
She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow herself. “Why? Does it sound familiar?”
He stirred the last of his coffee in his cup. “You could say that I guess. My parents live in London. I suppose I use distance as an excuse more often than not, but work really does get in the way. And unfortunately, it takes priority.”
“You’re not British.” Elle noted in almost a question.
“No. My mother moved there with Philip years ago.”
Elle nodded. She wouldn’t pry since he hadn’t, but she wanted to know more about him. And that frightened her because the more invested she became, the more she would fall for him. And the harder she fell would make it hurt all the more once he learned the truth—whenever he learned it.
“We’re actually from Chicago originally. I moved here for grad school and…” he looked at her thoughtfully “never went back.”
Elle straightened her back. “I guess we’re both the types to put our work before anything else.”
Something caused his eyes to turn cold. “There were a few times I lost focus of my goals after moving to the city, and I vowed to never let that happen again. Not with family or anyone else.”
“Sounds like there’s a story.”
“Perhaps,” he took a sip of his coffee and smirked at her.
“Would you excuse me for a minute? I’m just going to check in on someone I have working through the weekend.”
“Of course.”
Elle walked to the sofa where she had left her purse. Before the day went any further, Elle needed to solidify reinforcements to snap her back into reality when she got home. She reached for her phone and shot a quick text to her best friend.
My place for Thai tonight.
I’m buying.
She glanced once more at Scott in the kitchen and then the tug at her heart came again. She needed to make sure Char knew what she’d be walking into tonight.
Come prepared to talk some sense into me. I’m falling…hard.
Chapter 25
Scott
He led Isabel through the hotel lobby and into the main dining hall. The host must have remembered him from a few weeks ago since she didn’t bother asking for his party and led them to the table. The morning with Isabel had been bliss with a little reservation as she seemed to be holding back. Was she still considering him to be a thoughtless businessman whose only idea in saving a firm is downsizing or quality cutting? Those articles had it all wrong. But he wasn’t about to go into his side of the story. At least not until he knew more about her.
But Isabel was different. He knew when the woman beside him was keeping details to a minimum and when she was more open, pure and honest. She definitely had trust issues, and if he had to guess; similar to his.
Second guessing himself, he stopped short, turning to the host. “We can take it from here. I know where he usually sits. Thank you.”
She nodded and turned back to her station.
He looked down at Isabel. “Listen, I don’t want you to be surprised or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. Sometimes this man and I get into heated discussions and if either he or I make you uncomfortable in any way please let me know and we’ll leave.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I know how things can get heated in business-chatter,” she waved a hand. “In fact, I can probably referee it,” she smiled and walked past him.
He wasn’t expecting that. But it would be interesting to watch her try. He shook his head and stepped forward, taking her hand.
Okay. No surprises.
Although it may have helped if he told her one more detail before he brought her here. But it was too late now.
He spotted the man at his usual table with his back to them. Since he never acknowledged the man as his father, he didn’t bother introducing him as such. Nor would he ever give the old bastard the credit.
“Sorry I’m late,” Scott called when he reached the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.”
His father straightened in his chair and turned.
Scott pulled Isabel beside him. “Isabel, I’d like you to meet Ron Brightman.”
Isabel suddenly froze. The woman didn�
�t extended a hand or utter a single word. If anything, she just looked…ill.
Ron must have caught the strange behavior too; his smile faded and his brow rose slightly.
“Isabel, are you alright?” Scott touched her arm.
She turned to him slowly, her eyes glassy and her mouth slightly open.
“Of course. Where are my manners?” Ron stood. “Isabel, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand.
Did his father just stand for someone? The man didn’t get up or move much for anybody he didn’t know or care about.
Isabel returned with a very weak shake and an even weaker smile. “Mr. Brightman. A pleasure, of course,” she said.
“Please call me Ron,” he offered and lifted his head slightly.
Isabel stared for a moment before straightening her back and lifting her head.
She glanced at Scott and turned back to Ron. “I apologize. It must be the crowded room. It’s um…making my head spin a bit.”
Scott relaxed. That was certainly odd behavior, but he was relieved it had nothing to do with the man before them. “Please sit, have some water.” He pulled out a chair for her from the round table and took the remaining seat.
“Ron and I like to meet here to talk about… business…and other things every few weeks. The menu here is terrific.”
A waiter approached. “Can I get your drinks?”
Scott turned to Isabel. “Bloody Mary or mimosa?”
“Oh, neither. Thank you.”
“Nonsense. She’ll have a bloody,” Ron snapped his menu shut. “And I’ll take one as well, and please be sure to bring a second when I’m about this much through.” He pointed to a particular place on his water glass.
Isabel caught herself mid-eye roll. Scott laughed to himself. Yeah. His father was not a man to be ashamed at his precise demands.
“What kind of business are you in, Ron?” Isabel asked her eyes still on her menu.
The kind that I ran to the ground. Are the words Ron should say, but instead, he waited for his father’s usual response.
“Oh, I don’t want to spend a lovely day talking about work—Scott, we should order a plate of the smoked salmon bruschetta, I think your guest would love them.”
Isabel scoffed. “Do you always make selections for people you’ve never met, mister—sorry, Ron?”
Now that was more the woman he’d thought he’d brought today. Scott smiled to himself.
“Apologies my dear. Of course, you have a mind of your own.”
“Actually, I did want to talk a little bit about business, Ron.” Scott started.
Ron inhaled deeply grabbing his thick beverage directly off the server’s tray as he brought it over.
“Let’s not today,” Ron insisted, naturally.
Scott shook his head. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to try to convince you to re-open.” He noticed Isabel stiffen beside him. She took a sip of hers and muttered something quickly to the server which apparently Ron heard since he chuckled quietly. Was he imagining it, or did Isabel shoot him a glare before turning back to Scott?
“I asked for an extra shot, she smiled.”
Okay, he was missing something.
Hoping the confusion would sort itself out, he turned to Isabel for the quick background. “Ron closed up shop a few months ago after my countless efforts to save him.”
“You turned his offer down?”
“It was time to close.” Ron waved a dismissive hand.
“I’m sure your employees would disagree.” Isabel muttered before taking a generous sip of her drink.
Scott leaned forward in his chair, grinning. “Isabel is a big advocate for the working class, Ron. She’d give you a run for your money if you ever dare to get into your business ethics with her.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Ron said with a single shake of his head, stirring his drink.
“Anyway, I wanted to pick your brain about the new firm I told you I was looking into. You’re the only one I know with the knowledge.”
Ron’s eyes flicked to his date before he answered, “The only one? I should put you in touch with one of my best workers from Brightman Events. She practically ran the place with me. I’d even go as far as saying she was the reason I stayed open longer than I planned.”
Scott breathed out in frustration. He didn’t need the advice of one his old workers. He needed his father to share details of what made him the number one event planning firm in the city and what was his ultimate downfall. So he’d know how to help S.L.E.
“So where’d you two meet?” Ron asked taking the opportunity of silence after the waiter had taken their orders.
Fine, they could change the subject for now. Perhaps his father didn’t want to discuss the details in front of a woman he knew nothing about. Knowing the type of women Scott usually sees, it could be anyone that had connections all over the city.
“At an event actually,” Isabel answered.
Ron’s head popped up with interest. “Oh?”
Scott smiled at his date. “At one of Donovan Hayes’ personal parties, a few weeks ago.”
He watched his father give Isabel what looked like a knowing grin. “And you couldn’t help but notice the beautiful mysterious young woman, if you don’t mind my saying, wandering the elaborate affair.”
Isabel smiled politely.
“Actually that was exactly it. But Isabel doesn’t like to talk about her work much. So we’ve agreed not to discuss it.”
“Well eventually everything needs to be discussed,” he eyed them both. “Surely you two know that.”
“Would you both excuse me for a moment? I need to return a call I missed.”
“Of course dear,” Ron said, with a quick glance and grin. “Although you should really try Scott’s radio-silent Sunday. You seem like someone way too focused on work.”
Elle ignored the observation and walked away with her phone.
“What are you doing? I happen to really like her,” Scott snapped. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”
“How am I doing that?”
“I don’t know. But she’s not usually like this.”
“You always find ways to blame me,” Ron shook his head, then cocked it in Isabel’s direction. “She seems terrific.” Ron agreed, “Don’t screw it up.”
“Even if I were serious about this woman, what makes you think I would?”
“You’ve never brought a woman to our lunches and I think that you have serious trust issues.”
“I’ve never met anyone like her,” he admitted. “I just wish I knew more about her.”
“Like what?”
“Like where she’s from, what she does, how she’s connected to Hayes Enterprises.”
“Why is that important?”
“Because it’s suspicious that she refuses to tell me.”
Ron nodded, and took a deep breath. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“You don’t know that much about me.”
“I know that you’re exactly like I am. I made mistakes being single minded. Focused on business before anything else.”
“What am I supposed to do to prove she can trust me?”
“That might not be as hard as you think.” Ron shrugged. “But I will tell you one thing; what that woman might be hiding has nothing to do with who she is. And because I know you, I know it wouldn’t matter,” he paused. “At least I hope it won’t.”
Chapter 26
Elle
Elle finished off her second hot and censored that day, placing her new tumbler in the empty space near her computer.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
She was handed the biggest gig of her life four days ago. At this point, she would have had samples delivered; tastings scheduled, quotes from vendors dropping like hail in her inbox. But all she could do was stare at font styles for the invitation and think about how dreadfully awful Sunday had become.
After a painful brunch with her old boss and a man she was should h
ave avoided from the start, she raced home and sulked until Char arrived.
Pouring her heart out to her best friend should have helped, but it only made things worse when Char outright confirmed her bleak reality.
“You’ve fallen hard and you just can’t walk away,” Char had said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “You’re going to have to come clean… or pull a Josh and not return his calls.”
Elle felt nauseous as her friend’s advice settled within her for the fifth time.
Her initial instinct to keep up her charade with Scott because of his connection had become less of a concern. She wasn’t worried about losing her job anymore. She knew she was better than this.
That was until Dean handed her the event which Empire Fashions was calling the Winter Ballard, raising the stakes for her.
To throw everything away now would be foolish and she’d be a bigger disappointment to herself than she was to her own mother.
I won’t fail. I will once again plan everything to perfection.
“I’d go with the classic font,” Mimi commented over her shoulder.
“Oh, I wasn’t really looking anymore.” Elle minimized the screen she’d been staring at all day.
“I know,” Mimi grinned and then turned to sit atop Elle’s desk. “Want to talk about it?”
Elle considered her colleague’s offer and watched her. “I’m really glad you’re working on this event with me,” she offered, re-inviting her one rule that she wasn’t there to make friends. That’s how distractions happen. That’s how people learned your weaknesses and ultimately, used them against you.
“It’s an honor, and don’t worry; I’m not an amateur. You won’t need to babysit me. Just tell me when and where you need me.”
“I appreciate that,” Elle murmured. “I have some calls to make,” she said as she turned back to her screen.
Mimi jumped off. “Oh okay, I won’t bother you.”
Elle glanced back at her. “I think you’re right—let’s go with the classic.”
* * *
“No, I need this on better paper. Triple card stock won’t do. It’s too thick. It needs to scream luxury. I want the guests to pick up the place-cards and do a double-take. Do you understand what I’m asking for here?”
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