Something About Emmett (Billionaire Romance) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 14 - Something Wrong With Me

That had me laughing, and I was glad we stepped outdoors with the soft chill of the night to keep me occupied.

He had a sleek silver car, a brand new Mercedes. I wondered what it would be like if it were the same deep, pitch black...

I snapped out of it and settled into the leather seat. "Where are we headed to?" I asked.

"A restaurant," he told me, looking into my eyes with an eagerness, a kindness, that had my heart breaking at the seams. "It's a surprise, but I hope you like Cuban food."

"I do," I murmured, fighting to keep my mind on nothing but the soft start of the car.

•••

There were dim lights, candles, wine. Just as he had promised me. I sat across from him, our table a small, round surface that did not allow for too much space to separate us.

I found myself looking straight into his eyes.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, looking at me attentively.

"I like Cuban food," I smiled, hoping to get a laugh out of that. I succeeded, and he was chuckling softly, blue eyes sparkling.

"More, Julianne. Please." He came closer to me, supporting his elbows on the table and resting his chin over a closed fist. The position made him appear engrossed with me, eager to listen to what I had to say.

I considered his request. "Okay, well, what would you like to know?" I asked him, and instantly a recent memory flashed through my mind, momentarily sidetracking me. I pushed it away with all the strength I could muster, and had a small sip of my red wine.

"What do you love? Where do you want to go? Why?"

I grinned at him, studying the rapt blue eyes that were trying, quite subtly, to take in every bit of me they could.

"I love to sing," I started, my voice leveled. "I guess I have since ever since I could hum. I can't remember a time when I didn't sing. It's like a form therapy. And I love to curl up lazily with a good book, alone, with something hot in my hand. I also love the cold weather, but I don't get much of it here."

Clay urged me on silently. I bit my lip as I tried to think of something else to say.

"I also love to travel, even though I've only ever been to Chicago once, a couple of years ago. I want to go places, even if they're on my own, where no one will know my face and where I'll be insignificant. Free to do as I please with no one there to tell me otherwise, if only for a weekend."

He smiled at that, the grin curving to one side in lopsided beauty. "You're a bit of a loner, huh? Yet you're sociable, kind, perceptive. Am I right?"

"I'd like to think so," I joked, then put my finger up, pointing at him. "Now it's your turn. Tell me what brings you to South Florida."

He contemplated my question, something about it lingering in his eyes. "Well, my older brother moved to South Florida two years ago when he married his wife. Her family is from Davie and the housing there is spacious, affordable. Space like that just doesn't happen in Manhattan. I fly south a couple of times a year now to visit."

I murmured understandingly, but my brows furrowed in question. "And this time, you came here to visit him, as well."

"Partly," he said. "But not quite. Emmett called me, told me about you. He said he knew someone with the voice of an angel, that he would be struck down if she wasn't everything Atlantic Records was looking for. We aren't close or anything like that, but my cousin is a good friend of Emmett's. We met each other through him. Naturally I know Emmett, and everyone who is anyone knows Emmett, especially in New York. So I didn't take his call lightly and flew down knowing quite well I would not be disappointed. Yet I didn't expect you. You, I'll admit, threw me off completely."