Sebastian
I drove my black Maserati to the Stavrakos Hotel, where the Golden Restaurant was located on the ground floor.
I saw a crowd of media people outside, waiting to see me and Sweet Treble together for the first time.
Good. That was the way I wanted it to be. I could already see the internet flooded with articles and photos of me and Sweet Treble tomorrow.
I turned into the back of the hotel where my personal parking space was. The two black SUVs where my bodyguards rode, including Max, followed me.
I entered the restaurant using the entrance inside the hotel. The manager greeted me politely.
"I'm meeting Miss Sweet Treble. I believe she's already here."
"Yes, sir. She's waiting for you at the bar."
"Very well," I replied, pressing my lips together tightly.
It was going to be our first time meeting. I wondered how we would react with each other. I hoped by the end of the evening we wouldn't end up killing each other.
At the bar, I looked at the women seated. But there was no sign of Sweet Treble.
Damn it. Did the manager fool me?
I was losing my patience. I put my hands inside my pockets and exhaled heavily.
Where the hell was she?
I noticed a man sitting on the stool at the bar, wearing a black hoodie jacket, denim jeans, and soiled boots. His back was turned toward me.
Why the fuck did they let him in? He was wearing inappropriate clothes. The restaurants followed a strict formal dress code. Before I could complain to the manager, the man turned slowly and faced me.
The man was, in fact, a woman.
Sea-green eyes instantly met mine. For a few seconds, they mesmerized me. Her eyes were bright, bold and beautiful. She had a beautiful feminine face—oval shape with nice arched eyebrows, a small nose, and plump lips.
Her chin lifted proudly, and it reminded me that I was supposed to hate this woman.
I thought I was immune to beautiful women. They surrounded me wherever I went. Beautiful eyes, thick battering lashes, juicy lips... they didn't affect me anymore.
Until now.
"Hello, Miss Treble."
"Hello, Mr. Stavrakos." She stood up and walked towards me with a deadpan expression.
The manager waiting at the side took her oversized hoodie jacket, revealing her slight frame in a white shirt and loose jumper.
I had to admit she was gorgeous, even in her farm outfit. She even stood out among the women inside the restaurant who wore satin and glittery dresses. But dammit! Couldn't she at least wear appropriate clothes to see me?
The manager interrupted my thoughts as he showed us to our private room.
We followed the manager in silence. As we walked together side by side, I could see the media behind the floor to ceiling walls of the restaurant taking pictures of us.
Now that they took pictures of us together, that was enough. They served their purpose already.
Once Miss Treble and I were seated inside the private room, the manager gave us the menu.
"I'll have chicken Waldorf salad, Greek salad, Lemon-Saffron Salmon, Bluefin Tuna, Kobe steak, Wagyu beef, Lobster mac and cheese, some buns and cornbread." I tapped my fingers on the table as I continued to look at the dessert section of the menu. "I'll have blueberry cheesecake, chocolate mousse, and banana split sundae for dessert."
The manager repeated my order, then turned to Miss Treble.
"No thanks. I won't be here for long," she said to the manager, then turned to me. Her expression was feisty as hell.
Our eyes locked. Her cat-like green eyes met my blue ones. I had to remind myself that this woman was single handedly destroying my future.
"Okay, madam," the manager answered. "Not even a wine? We have Pinot Noir from..."
"No, thank you." Shaking her head, she gathered her long, wavy brown hair and flicked it across her back.
The manager seemed mesmerized by the action. Then he cleared his throat and left us.
I knew this was the moment that she had been waiting for—the two of us alone together.
The moment the door closed, she wasted no time saying her piece.
"You pulled our major potato buyer out. You ruined our business," she began calmly.
"Well, you ruined my reputation. So, we're even now."
She sighed, then continued, "I won't waste too much of your precious time, Mr. Stavrakos. What do you want from me?"
I smirked and leaned back against my seat. "Isn't it you who wants something from me? You asked to see me on short notice."
Our eyes met and held. I studied her, and it seemed like she did the same to me.
She was indeed exquisite, even though her hair was messy, her face was bare of makeup, and dark shadows showed under her eyes.
No. Appearances are deceiving. She's a witch.
"We need Andrews. Bring them back," she said firmly.
I put my arms on the table and leaned closer to her. "Then bring back my reputation."
She lifted her chin a little. "I already established my honest opinion of you, Mr. Stavrakos. I can't take it back."
"There's a big difference between you can't or you won't. Decide now, or your family's potato farm will continue to go down."
"This is blackmail!" she uttered in surprise.
I chuckled, making her glare at me angrily. "You started it, Miss Sweet Treble, or should I say Sweet Trouble? It suits you better."
Her lips pressed together, then she uttered bitingly, "My opinion of you is still the same. You're the worst man that a woman could ever have!"
"So be it. We have nothing more to say to each other." I waved my hand, shooing her. "Goodbye. Ciao. Adios. You can leave now."
Her hands balled into fists. "You won't get away with this."
"Are you threatening me, Miss Trouble?"
"It's Treble! Damn you. What do you want?"
"I told you. Clean my reputation. I want you to take back what you've said—that I'm a player and treat women like toys. Prove to the people that I'm a good and respectable person. That I've also had girlfriends and believed in marriage and commitment."
"That would be a lie!"
"I don't give a damn." I shrugged. "Lie if you must."
"I would rather not!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Writing an article that you're a good person wouldn't be easy when you have plenty of bad news. Readers won't believe it. They need solid facts to convince them."
"If that's what they need, then give it to them. Let's have an interview."
"That won't be enough. They need to see that you're a changed man." She lifted her hand briefly. "It would take time, because a person can't change his ways overnight."
I tsked, tapping my fingers on the table. "Then it will also take some time to bring Andrews back in buying your potatoes."
"You can't do that."
"You know I can," I said firmly.
"Oh God. You're an awful, obnoxious, arrogant and despicable man! You have no mercy!"
"You have a very broad vocabulary, Miss Trouble. Quite impressive," I laughed bitterly. "I hope you're also familiar with words like defamation law, libel, slander, and moral damages."
Her eyes darkened. "Are you threatening me?"
"Nope." I shrugged. "I'm just asking you. I'm sure you don't want us to go there, right? We can settle this in a calm, civilized, and friendly way."
Her face turned red with anger. "Fuck you!"
"Oops! When I said friendly, I swear I was not suggesting that we should go that far, Miss Treble. But if you insist..."
"Over my dead body!" She scowled at me. "You're the last man on earth that I'd ever want to sleep with."
I chuckled and leaned back, watching her.
She looked so cute when she was angry. Her cheeks turned scarlet red, her plump lips curved nicely, and her almond eyes narrowed. Damn, I couldn't even stop staring at her. She was so pleasing in the eyes.
The manager came back with three waiters to serve the food. I ordered too many dishes because I knew she would not order. She was a stubborn, feisty woman who would prefer to starve because of pride.
"What do you suggest I should do?" she asked the moment we were alone again.
With Mom's condition in mind, I was determined to lay down the cards in front of her. She ruined my reputation, so she should be the one doing the rehab of my image.
"Write about me in your book in three months convincing your readers I've changed. That's the max time for you to clean my reputation. Then I'll bring Andrews back to your farm."
"How am I going to do that? Just write about you with no facts or basis? I need to know you personally. You can't fool people, and I don't want to. They're too smart to know what's true or not. In one wrong move, a person could be canceled on social media."
"Exactly. That's what this deal is all about. You're going to know me better as a person."
Confused, she looked at me with narrowed eyes.
"What's the deal?"