Chapter Four

There was no ignoring the man at her back or the butterflies in her stomach.

Butterflies. Screw that. More like rabid wasps.

She tried to follow Sylvie’s advice and channel Lillian, but as much as she wanted to be able to pretend to be someone else, it was her on the date.

There’d been a limo waiting for them when they’d left. Conversation on the drive to the restaurant had been stilted, at best. She racked her brain for the information she’d memorized on him. Her father had been very clear that she was supposed to charm this man. Agree with whatever his opinions were. Like what he liked. And do it all with a smile.

A Stepford wife for the modern age.

As if she’d ever let herself get locked into such a marriage.

But Lillian might.

A depressing idea through and through.

“Hope you like La Province,” he said as they pulled to a stop in front of one of the swankiest restaurant in the city.

Hate it.

“Love it,” she lied. The restaurant was where the elite of the elite chose to dine, and while she’d been there a time or two in the past, restaurants as fancy as this were not her speed.

Pretend not to notice the eyes. Choke down the beautiful, tasteless food. Act like the spotlight is my right.

This wouldn’t defeat her.

Silently, she stepped from the limo and headed for the front door.

Julian greeted the maître d’ by name before he led them to a table near the back.

She slipped into her chair, glancing around the busy dining room as she set her clutch down. Sure enough, more than a few pairs of eyes were turned toward her.

Or more likely, him.

Unconcerned, Julian perused his menu. Even if she wasn’t the main focus of attention, her stomach turned at having to eat before an audience.

“Are you a red or white sort of girl?” Julian asked as he opened the wine list.

He prefers a nice Pinot Noir, the older, the better.

His food preferences had been an appendix in one of Lillian’s files. Her father had even quizzed her before the date.

Can run the risk Julian getting away. Then Father would have to actually work to turn the company around.

She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

“Red. Do they have any Pinot Noir?” she said, hating the part she had to play.

His gaze flicked to her. “In fact, they do.” Snapping the menu shut, he ordered a bottle from the waiting server.

“Shouldn’t be much of a wait,” he said, turning his attention back to her.

“How long do we have this time?”

He smiled. “I cleared the whole evening. I’m sorry my schedule was tight the first time we met.”

“Priorities,” she replied. “I get it.”

He paused, midway through putting his napkin in his lap. “Shouldn’t you be a priority?”

She shrugged. “If this were a normal arrangement, sure. But we both know it’s not.”

He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “What would a normal marriage look like to you?”

Her breath escaped her in a huff. “Couldn’t we start out talking about the weather or something?”

Julian grinned. “There’s a wedding in the not-too-distant future. Shouldn’t we make the most of the time we have now?”

“Good point.”

“So? Did your parents have a good marriage to use as a model?”

She shook her head. “My mother died when I was little. I barely remember her. But from the stories I’ve heard, I don’t think it was a very happy union. She had the money, and he had the name.”

“Ah,” he said. “And now history is repeating itself.”

She looked away. Exactly. “I know how our world works. People don’t often marry for love when bank accounts are on the line.”

“Why would we? Love can die. A binding merger of assets or companies can’t.”

“Remember to engrave that on my wedding ring.”

A chuckle escaped him. “You certainly have no trouble putting me in my place.”

She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

I’m supposed to be forgettable but also charming. Stop mocking him, or you’ll screw everything up.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “I have no use for a mouse as a wife.”

The words were like a knife in her chest. No, a man like him would never be happy with someone as quiet as she really was.

Not that he’ll ever have to be.

When Lillian came back, she’d be exactly what he wanted.

For tonight, he’d just have to put up with an understudy.

“Come on, tell me about your ideal marriage. Give me something to aim for.”

She arched a brow. “I don’t think the sort of marriage I envisioned has any bearing on this arrangement.”

“Try me.”

Do I tell the truth or lie?

But Lillian might have to marry this man if no rescue came for them. Deciding on the truth, she cleared her throat. “I always figured I’d meet someone in grad school and fall in love.”

“You didn’t?”

“I was pretty focused on my studies. Not much time for anything else.”

His eyes roved over her once more before a frown crossed his face. “I find that hard to believe.”

Fair point.

Lillian had been the life of every party.

“My goal was always to join the family business. I didn’t want to fail.”

“I doubt failure is often a problem for you.”

She shrugged. “I try.”

The waiter arrived with their wine, pouring a tasting for Julian before filling both their glasses at his nod.

“All right, once you fell for some fellow student, what was the plan?”

“The usual,” she replied, sipping her wine. “We’d date, move in together, and when we decided we were ready, we’d take the next step.”

“A society marriage full of glitz and glamour?”

She laughed. “I’m more of a city hall kind of girl.”

“Wouldn’t have been my bet.”

“You’d be surprised. Why waste money on a single day, right? It’s the rest of our lives that matter.”

He swirled his wine in his glass. “I agree.”

“But as I said, I always knew I’d likely have to make a business match.”

“Well, you didn’t run to the opposite side of the world when I proposed. I take that as a good sign.”

If only you knew.

“The companies come first,” she said.

“At least that’s one thing we can agree on. This merger will impact a lot of lives for the better.”

That’s the only reason I’m sitting here.

Their waiter arrived to take their orders, and she chose something at random before handing her menu over. While the plates here were social media masterpieces, the taste never matched the visual impact.

Once the waiter was gone, Julian reached for his wineglass. “How go the wedding plans?”

“No idea.”

Surprise lit his eyes. “Aren’t you involved with the planning?”

The way a normal bride would be.

She almost groaned aloud. Answering without thinking was dangerous tonight.

“My father hired a wedding planner. I’m sure everything’s going smoothly,” she offered as an excuse.

“Sounds good. I don’t really have any preferences. Other than the music.”

She glanced up, seeing an opening. “What about a swing band? Liven things up a little.”

A smile curved his lips. “That’s my favorite. Good idea.”

I know.

“I was thinking, vanilla cake is traditional but what if we change it to a dark chocolate base? Make it a little less bland.”

“Chocolate is my Achilles’ heel,” he agreed. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“There we go then. At least we know we’ll enjoy the cake and music.”

Just not the vows.

“Any preference on the dress? The planner has made a mess of my schedule, booking out so many fittings.”

“I have no doubt you’ll be stunning in anything.”

A sliver of pleasure pulsed through her. Did Lillian get compliments like this all the time?

Lucky girl.

Mentally, she ran through the file her father had given her, searching for any more tidbits to use. “What do you think about a honeymoon?” she said. “With the companies needing our attention, I figured we might not have much time away. We could do a quick trip to somewhere tropical if you like. I hear Aruba is beautiful.”

“I’ve been twice. It’s a perfect pick. That’s very conscientious of you.”

“No problem at all.”

“Well, this is shaping up to be a better wedding than I’d hoped for. Thank you for thinking of these details.”

“I like to be organized.”

He tipped his head to the side as he watched her. “I can see that. Actually, I’m a little relieved.”

“Oh?”

“I was thinking we wouldn’t have anything to talk about, but finding so much common ground bodes well for the future.”

A future where I smile and agree to whatever you like without an opinion of my own.

Like hell she’d ever want to be in a relationship like that.

“Yes, I hope it does,” she said forced out.

Their food arrived, and she looked down at the elevated chicken roulade. With an internal sigh, she picked up her fork.

“How’s yours?” he asked after she’d tried a bite.

“Yummy,” she lied as she dutifully ate her food.

Silence stretched, and she glanced up at her dining companion. He was studying her with an inscrutable look on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking I don’t know much about you. Tell me something you like.”

“Uh.” What did the file say? “I’m a big fan of foreign films. And I’m an avid supporter of the symphony.”

“Me too,” he said. “We can make that our second date. Or there’s a great little theater in midtown that brings in some interesting movies from around the world.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

But his gaze wasn’t wavering from hers.

Dropping her focus to her plate, she tried to choke down some chicken, but being the center of his attention was putting her on edge.

“How do you like the opera?”

She smiled, reaching for her water glass. “Love it, of course. Who doesn’t?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Um…” She racked her brain. “I think I’d have to say—”

“La Traviata?”

She froze as they said the words together.

Julian set down his utensils and interlocked his fingers as he stared at her. “What a coincidence.”

What little appetite she had faded away under his scrutiny. Her heart hammered in her ears.

Caught red-handed.

What was he going to do about it?

…

He watched his fiancée stare at him with wide eyes. Then under his gaze, she lifted her chin and set her fork down.

Preparing for battle again?

He was starting to realize she did that a lot.

“I’m going to guess you love old cars and do the crossword every Sunday,” he said. “You probably also like baseball and collect old player cards. Tell me, sweetheart, boxers or briefs?”

That blush he was growing used to rose to her cheeks again.

“I assume you have a background check on me somewhere,” he said. “I should probably confess I looked into you, too.”

“I figured,” she said, the words cool.

“And you thought the quickest way to my heart would be to like what I liked?”

Those expressive blue eyes rose back to his. “I was operating under the assumption that you didn’t have a heart.”

He grinned. “True enough. But for the record, I don’t need a yes-man for a wife. I get enough of that in the office.”

There was a beat of silence before she folded her hands calmly in her lap. “I hate baseball,” she said. “Almost as much as I hate being on display in this restaurant. I do, however, complete the Times crossword every Sunday. In pen. And I’ve always been a boxers girl, myself.”

There you are.

“Excellent.” He threw down his napkin and stood.

“Guess the date’s over,” she asked in a dull voice that made him frown.

“Hardly.” He motioned for the maître d’ and handed over enough cash to cover their bill twice over. “Sorry, but we have to leave early.”

“Of course, Mr. Worth. Shall I have the food prepared to go?”

“No need.”

He stretched out a hand to Lillian. “Come with me.”

The confusion on her face was almost endearing as she hesitantly slipped her hand into his.

He wasted no time pulling her out of the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” she asked when they hit the sidewalk.

“Changing things up.” He took off, leaving the pretentious restaurant behind them. Strangers strolled along the bustling street, no doubt enjoying the summer evening. Rounding a bend, he headed down one of the residential roads, leaving the sounds of the traffic behind as they walked by the shadowed houses.

“Are you taking me home?”

“Not unless you want to go. Do you?” He glanced back at her.

Silence stretched before she gave the smallest shake of her head.

“Good.”

“Where are we going?”

“I know a great little burger joint a few blocks over. Sound better to you?” he asked.

Fingers tightened on his. “Yes.”

“You could have told me you didn’t like the restaurant.”

“You didn’t ask.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see his companion watching him carefully.

She does that a lot.

During their brief acquaintance, Lillian always seemed to be taking in everything around her with those clever, cautious eyes. When she did speak, he found himself wanting to know what insights she’d derived from her study.

And now with three little words, he realized the mistake he’d made tonight.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly. “I should have.”

In his defense, he wasn’t used to answering to anyone. His social circle was limited, at best, and those he did engage with knew the rules. He was a busy man with no time to waste. The other women he’d entertained had no problem with him making the plans. But then again, they were happy to be whatever he wanted so long as their birthday presents sparkled.

I can’t imagine Lillian letting me use those tactics.

If he gave her diamonds, she’d probably just stare a hole through him before quietly asking him why.

Who needs simple? I’ve always preferred complicated.

And Lillian Abbott was shaping up to be exactly that.

“I did my research before approaching your father,” he said, hardly believing he was explaining himself to anyone. “I knew the ins and outs of both our companies before I ever made this move.”

Her eyes danced away from him again, and he found he didn’t like the loss of connection.

“I admit it was a cold strategy, so let me make up for it. Forget the businesses and the mountain of information we both have on each other.” He caught her other hand and pulled her closer. “What do I need to know about you, Lillian?”

She glanced up at him. “Probably more than we can cover in a single conversation.”

“At least give me a tidbit or two to tide me over.”

Her rosy lips tipped up into a small smile. “I don’t know what to say. I’m a born and bred New Yorker. Most of my life has been spent in this city.”

That’s a historical fact, not a personal one.

“I was born upstate. Never made it to the city until I was old enough to go to university.” He’d been far too busy trying to survive the foster system to explore his state.

“I love the city. The culture, the energy—there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

“John said you were active with fundraising for the MET.”

“I pitch in now and then.”

“That’s not the only organization you support, is it?” he said.

Her eyes snapped back to his. “What—”

“When I looked into your background, I was surprised to find you and your sister support several shelters in the city. Why are your donations anonymous?”

“My father,” she said, the words soft.

“Ah. I guess he prefers your activities to be firmly vested in the socialite world.”

“Yes.”

He tugged her a step closer.

“I’m not him.”

It took her a long time to meet his eyes. “I never said…”

“Didn’t you?”

She glanced away.

Looks like I’m not the only one with trust issues.

“I mean it, you know. I don’t want you to pretend to be something you’re not.”

A wry smile twisted her lips. “I see.”

“It doesn’t do either of us any good to lie to each other. This marriage is going to happen unless you have a change of heart.”

“And if I did?” she asked, her eyes returning to his. “What if I wanted to call this off?”

He swallowed. “Do you?”

She was silent.

Does she want to get out of this?

Something close to dread unfurled in the pit of his stomach, but he chalked it up to losing all the work he’d put into the merger so far.

Be human. Think about something other than business for a second.

He cleared his throat. “If you ask me to, I’ll tell your father tomorrow I’ve reconsidered.”

She blinked. “You’ve already made moves to merge. That would derail everything you’ve worked for.”

He shrugged. “Better than forcing you into a relationship you don’t want.”

She studied their clasped hands before those captivating eyes rose back to his. “What happened to the owners of the inn upstate that you bought?”

He arched a brow at the non-sequitur. “What?”

“Why did you buy the inn?”

Looked like her investigators had been thorough. He sighed. This wasn’t a story he wanted to tell tonight.

“They’re still there.”

“You didn’t kick them out?”

“Why would I? Pete and Judy are like family to me. They hit a rough patch and would have lost their business had I not stepped in. I would have handed it back over, but they refused to take any charity, so now I’m a silent partner. Honestly, I didn’t expect any returns on that investment, but they’ve managed to turn things around quite nicely for us all.”

Surprise lit her face. “You saved them?”

“I helped them,” he hedged.

“Without expecting anything in return.”

“I don’t need to turn a profit on everything. Sometimes you just need to do what’s right.”

“My father wouldn’t agree.”

“I know.”

Those slender fingers tightened on his. “Don’t tell him you’ve reconsidered. Not yet.”

An odd hope lit within him. If she cried off, there were half a dozen others he could ask in her place.

But he didn’t want to. Why?

It wasn’t a question he wanted to examine too closely. He’d told her the truth when he’d said he wasn’t sentimental. Business always came first, and that’s what this was.

Except I wasn’t thinking about business when I pulled her out of the restaurant.

That had been instinct.

And it unsettled the hell out of him.

He ran his thumb over her fingers. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

She took a small step forward, closing the distance between them. Her gaze dropped to his top button as she murmured, “Okay.”

He stared down at her bowed head. Who was this woman who could level a gaze cold enough to put him in his place one moment and then be too shy to say two words to him the next?

He hadn’t expected to like his fiancée. Emotional connections weren’t a necessity for him to achieve the success he craved. Yet, now that he was here, standing in the dark with her, his vision of separate lives seemed ridiculous. He wanted to spend more time with her. Figure out which woman she was. Strong and confident or quiet and shy?

A smile started to form. Maybe she was both.

“Hey,” he said, causing her head to lift.

He released her hands so that he could cup her face, Slowly, giving her the chance to draw back, he lowered his lips toward hers.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

“We can make this work, Lillian,” he breathed against her mouth.

She jerked back as if she’d touched a live wire. Before he could protest, she’d wiggled out of his arms. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder. “Let’s find that restaurant. I’m starved.”

What just happened?

She’d been warm and willing in his embrace. He was sure of it.

What did I say?

Nothing that should have set her off. Shaking his head, he jogged to catch up with her.

My own personal enigma.

He’d unravel the mystery of Lillian Abbott if it was the last thing he did.