Possessive

Chapter 2 (Pic of Tristan)

Picture of Tristan, played by Henry Cavill----->

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It was ten past seven when the cab I called sped away from my apartment complex. I hated going to business dinners. They were rather boring and stuffy. Do not get me wrong, the food was excellent but the meetings were always long and winded. 

The Seychelle Restaurant, as it was so aptly named, was a French restaurant that was so popular you had to book a year in advance just to hold a fork. The only way you could get a table under such short notice was if your bank account had about six or seven zeros after a rather ginormous number. The place was that good. 

I paid the driver and stepped out of the cab, albeit rather clumsily. The doorman grabbed a hold of my elbow before I face planted myself on the sidewalk. I deeply blushed, total embarrassment setting in. 

"Are you alright, Miss?" The old grandfather like doorman asked, a hint of a smile on his wrinkled face.  

I smiled back. "I'm fine, thank you." 

The old man held my hand all the way to the door and winked at me as he held open the door for me. I gasped aloud, taking in the beauty of the restaurant. The interior was painted in a rich creamy white. Several paintings and sketches of Cupid adorned the walls. The ground floor was filled with occupied tables. In one corner of the restaurant, a classical band played soft music that made me sway on my feet. In another corner, the highway length bar was also occupied as people raised their hands and shouted for their various beverages. 

"Can I help you, Miss?" The maitre'd asked me.  

I smiled at him. "Yes, Mr. Lanning made a reservation for seven thirty?" 

The maitre'd scanned his book before stiffly nodding his head. "Yes, you are just on time. Follow me, please," he said in highly undisguised disgusted manner. He may as well have told me 'Trash is not allowed.' 

I looked down at my attire, feeling quite certain that was I not in any way under or over dressed. I had decided on a simple floor length, strapless black dress. The top bunched at my waist and flowed out in sheer material all the way to the ground. I paired the dress with my red peep toe stilettos and my red clutch. I figured this was business attire. 

I decided to ignore the snobby maitre'd and followed him to the first floor. The magnificence of this restaurant amazed me. A small water fountain sat in the middle of the room underneath a huge glass chandelier. The many occupied tables surrounded the fountain, forming a big circle. 

The maitre'd led to a slightly dark corner of the room and immediately, I knew that Tristan had requested it. I saw him before he saw me. His brooding presence made me gulp as confidence wavered just a bit. He stood by the window overlooking a magnificent view of Lady Liberty, completely ignorant of the chatter surrounding him. He was dressed in a black suit, dark just like his personality. I sighed, knowing this was not going to be a happy occasion. 

Tristan turned the minute the maitre'd pulled my chair away from the table. I thanked the man and grumpily sat down. Tristan's eyes roamed over me as he walked over to the table, pulling a chair in the process. 

"Heaven," his deep voice resonated deep in my bones. 

I resisted the urge to sigh and instead opted to nod my head. "Mr. Devareaux." 

I had to keep my cool. I could not let him know what he did to me, what his voice, his eyes, heck, his personality did to me. 

"Is that the gown I got you for your twenty fourth birthday?" 

I silently gasped, subconsciously rubbing my thigh under the table. I was surprised he remembered. Now he's going to think that I wore the dress just for him. 

I cleared my throat, reaching for the glass of water that was sitting on the table in front of me. "I believe it is. It is a beautiful gown. I thought it was appropriate for the business dinner tonight." 

"Hmm." 

'Hmm?' What did that mean? I pondered on the word, trying to figure out what he was trying to say in his own marsupial way. I didn't have the courage to ask him so we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. I looked around room, desperately searching for something to take my mind off the godlike man sitting next to me. 

"He's late," Tristan said, glancing at his watch, his mouth slipping into a frown. 

I was about to respond when a very high pitched squeal echoed throughout the room. 

"Tristan!" 

I turned around as the voice came directly from behind me and when I did, I couldn't stop the disgruntled groan that slipped out of my mouth. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Tristan's mouth twitch into a smirk but it was gone before I could confirm it. I shook my head, clearly imagining things. 

"Tristan, darling! How are you?" Alexis Vanderpool purred, the sound grating on my ear drums as she gracefully walked around the table. 

I rolled my eyes, turning my head to ignore the sultry smile she was giving him. Alexis Vanderpool, heiress to Vanderpool Finances and all around bicycle. You give me a name and I'll tell you, he certainly got a ride. Her name was always in the newspapers and it was not because she was a genius or because she generously gave to charity. The woman was a classic seductress. 

"Alexis," Tristan said, bringing me out of my thoughts. 

"What are you doing here?" Her French accent was so irritating.  

Tristan glanced at me, his hazel eyes holding mine for a few seconds before lazily roaming over Alexis in her extremely short fuchsia pink dress. I mean, come on! The dress was so short, it barely covered her. A handkerchief was longer then her dress. 

"I'm here for a meeting, Alexis," he said. 

Her eyes held suspicion as she too glanced at me. "Oh? With whom?" 

"I'm so sorry that I'm late!" A voice said from behind me. 

I turned once more to see Mr. Lanning standing directly behind my chair. He looked at Tristan who, fortunately, stopped his conversation with Alexis to look at the intruder. 

"Tristan," Mr. Lanning said. He looked at me, a smile present on his face. "Miss Chambers."  

I smiled. "Mr. Lanning, how lovely of you to join us!" I said as I held out my hand for him to shake. 

The old man spread his hands. "Ah! Heaven, you look beautiful," he exclaimed as he shook my hand, his eyes glittering with happiness.  

"Thank you," I said, brushing my raven black bangs away from my eyes. "How is your wife? Is she feeling a lot better? And your children, Lilly and Morgan?" 

Mr. Lanning smiled. "They are perfect. My wife thanks you for the chicken soup recipe." 

His gaze shifted from mine to Tristan's, his eyes dark and knowing and a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

"Tristan Devareaux, I believe we can get started on business."