Gentleman's Affair

Lunch Or Straight To Desert

The beautifully designed restaurant was one I would have never imagined that I'd be dining in. The aroma of garlic, paprika, and lemon filled the air. Of course I would spot the tilapia sizzling on a plate nearby held by a waiter smoothly maneuvering his way through the tables. This was the restaurant of the rich and critically acclaimed food, movie, and author critics would come. Among the usual wealthy individuals there were the stock brokers, inventors, and like Mr. Hale CEO's of major billion dollar companies.

I felt seriously underdressed.
Self conscious, being the more appropriate word.

"You look fine," Mr. Hurst reassures me.

The flushing is back for some reason. He only complimented my appearance. For the loud chatter of stocks, taxes, education, and promotion was all I could remain on. The people before me had the wealth that most unhealthy people dreamed about. The expensive caviar, million dollar yachts, and eternal membership with the local golf club. Your social class was defined by these very egotistical schmucks. The self-reassurance I was needing before I fell into a deep depression was sleeping away. Usually she'd be up mocking my soul, yet she slumbers now. Out of all the times she would beckon.

A young man dressed impeccably in black and white approaches us at the entrance. "Ah welcome back, Mr. Hale," he greets politely.

Mr. Hale nods in politeness. A gesture he often uses in any conversation. He always looks stiffen when dealing with another human. I guess for him even when it comes to basic human to human interaction he feels the need to control the situation. The host turns around as if he automatically knows the table in which Mr. Hale uses most often. "Right this way." He points his hand.

I am foreign to this restaurant much less the environment so I follow without question. The champagne colored table cloths were draped over every table. We were welcomed back a booth in the far back next to the kitchen.

The booth is one again leather and the way my thigh is feeling against the suction makes me regret my outfit decision once more. "Champagne," Mr. Hale states dismissing the host in a monotone.

He could have been a slight tad bit more polite to people because how he made me feel, inferior. I bet he made others feel the same way. "Shall we talk business, or would you rather beat  around the bush a bit longer?" Mr. Hurst cuts to the chase folding his right leg over his left.

The way he sits against the leather made him the man of power in this situation. I had to gulp because of how handsome the devil looked. Surely I was in lust over this man before me, but I could not let Mr. Hale see.

I look next to me seeing that Mr. Hale is calm.
A little too calm if you ask me.

Even though I was completely flabbergasted by the amount of beauty before me I couldn't forget about the brief encounter I had with him on the sidewalk. I couldn't get my head wrapped around it.

Mr. Hale. The emotionally distant and demanding tyrant kissed me. I know I can't believe it either. My subconscious can either make the situation worse or better with one comment. Somehow this one comment is genuinely surprising. I cannot really believe he did either.

"What's on your mind Miss Donovan?" Mr. Hurst interrupts my constant thinking.

I look over to him giving him a genuine smile to conceal the real emotion probably presently on my face. "I was just thinking on how did you coax Mr. Hale on letting you help him with this new project." Well played, Elle.