| |
"What is it?" Andrew leaned in closer.
Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but before she could answer, a woman screamed over the noisy chatter of the restaurant. "Help! Someone, help my husband! He's choking!"
Lauren watched in horror as the older man wrapped his hands around his throat and stood up, his face turning bluish.
Without hesitation, Andrew jumped from his seat and rushed to the table, positioning himself behind the man.
"Can you talk?" Andrew exclaimed.
The man shook his head with widened eyes and frantically pointed at his throat.
"Please, do something before he dies!" The wife screamed.
Andrew sprang into action, positioning a fist below the man's ribcage before executing a strong upward thrust. He waited for a second, but nothing happened.
Then Andrew repeated the move several times before a chunk of meat projected from the man's mouth, landing on the table.
"Are you okay?" Andrew asked.
The man nodded and gasped for air as the color slowly returned to his cheeks.
The wife grabbed Andrew's hand. "Thank you for saving his life! If it weren't for you, he could have died. How can we repay you?"
"No need. Your thanks are good enough. I'm glad I was here to help," Andrew drew his lips into a smile.
The woman gave Andrew a grateful hug before he returned to his table.
"That was impressive," Lauren admired. "Where did you learn how to do that?"
"I took a CPR class when I was in college. After that, I thought of becoming a paramedic but switched to a teaching major. I wasn't sure if I could handle all the responsibility of someone's life in my hands." He chuckled. "I guess it came in handy after all. Now, where did we leave off? Oh yes, you said you had something to say.
Lauren squirmed in her chair, hesitating. "I, uh . . ."
"Yes?" Andrew looked at her with anticipation.
She sighed. "Never mind. It wasn't important. I think I've had enough excitement for one evening. Do you mind if we wrap this up early?"
Andrew nodded and smiled at her. "Of course not."
They paid the waiter and headed for the entrance when a short woman with dark hair tied back in a loose bun suddenly approached them.
"Ciao, Miss Bradley, it's good to see you again!" the woman exclaimed in an Italian accent, leaning in to plant a friendly kiss on Lauren's cheek.
Lauren felt dampness on her body as her cheeks turned red. At that moment, she wanted to escape out the door with Andrew, but it was too late. She was trapped.
"Hello, Angela, it's so nice to see you again." She returned an exaggerated smile.
Then Angela turned to Andrew. "And how are you, Mister Fisher? I see you two know each other. Are you two thinking of buying the restaurant together?"
A puzzled expression crossed Andrew's face.
Lauren tugged Andrew toward the door, knowing she was acting rude. "It was nice seeing you, Angela. But we're in a bit of a hurry."
But Andrew resisted her, turning to Angela. "Wait a minute . . . why would you think we would buy the restaurant together?"
Angela angled her brows for a moment, then smiled and explained, "Because you and Miss Fisher both want to buy Emilia's. When I saw you both together, I thought you two decided to own it together."
Andrew lifted a brow before turning to glare at Lauren. "Is this true? You're trying to buy Emelia's too?"
Lauren lowered her head as guilt flooded over her. A look of utter defeat spread across her face, her cheeks still red with embarrassment. "I'm afraid so," she managed through tight lips.
"I'm sorry, Miss Fisher. Did I say something I wasn't supposed to?" Angela asked, watching the strange interaction between them.
"No, Angela, you didn't know. It's not your fault."
A waiter called for Angela, interrupting the awkward scene.
"Excuse me, but I must attend to business. I hope you two work things out." Then the friendly Italian woman hurried away into the kitchen.
Andrew kept his gaze on Lauren. "That explains everything. The décor, the artwork . . . You tried to steer me away from buying this place so you could have it all for yourself, weren't you?" The frustration seeped into his voice.
Lauren slowly nodded, not daring to look Andrew in the eyes. "I didn't mean any harm . . ."
"And when were you expecting to tell me about this?"
Lauren felt Andrew's gaze pierce her facade of confidence, and she remained silent, at a loss for words.
"You weren't going to, were you?"
"It's just that I've been looking for the perfect restaurant for the last two years, and when I found out you had outbid me, I was desperate to find a way to keep it for myself. You don't know how much it means to me to own this restaurant." She avoided his gaze, looking past the restaurant's glass doors to observe the cars on the street.
"And it doesn't mean anything to me?" Andrew maintained his stare. His eyes reflected anger but were more filled with hurt and disappointment than anything else.
Lauren felt shattered by failure and shame. "Andrew, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I never intended it to end this way."
"It's kind of late for that now. After what I went through to get a second chance at winning your heart, I got stabbed in the back. Megan told me a lot of good things about you. But being deceptive wasn't one of them."
Lauren felt like a three-year-old caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and she wanted nothing more than to hide from his accusing glare.
"But—"
Andrew held up his hand. "Please don't. Haven't you done enough damage already? I think it's best we call it an evening."
Lauren remained silent.
Andrew turned to leave but hesitated at the door and spun around. "You know what. You win. I won't battle you for the restaurant. Megan's friendship means more to me than this business transaction. You can have it. I hope that makes you feel happy." His eyes no longer drew her in. Instead, a look of bitter disdain clouded his face. "You know what, I expected more from you as Megan's sister. But I guess I was wrong."
Lauren lowered her gaze, ashamed to look at him.
"I'll tell my broker to withdraw my offer in the morning."
With that, Andrew turned on his heels and disappeared from the restaurant.
