♡
"This way", Mr. Beaumont appointed me, leading me out of the main entrance from the building. I had to run after him, not blessed with long, muscular legs like he was. The girls and guys from the reception wished him to enjoy his meal and took a break themselves.
I picked up my pace but still couldn't reach him. Mr. Beaumont noticed and slowed down until we walked next to each other. He apologized too, which was quite sweet from him. Ben spotted Mr. Beaumont and opened the door for us, nodding deeply at Mr. Beaumont, who nodded back easily.
"Where are we going?", I asked him, while nodding at Ben who smiled back.
"Trinity's."
"Never heard of it", I furrowed my brows.
"It's just down the street. Once it had been an Italian restaurant, now it's a combination of French and Italian food. The chef is called Trinity, hence the name."
"Seems like you know quite a bit about that space, Mr. Beaumont."
His blue eyes peered over his shoulder and he took me by my wrist. His thumb brushed my palm. "Outside of work it's Michael, Sara", he insisted, then smiled at me. I felt all my blood rush to my face and looked away. He still held me by my wrist as he led us down the street, this time not with such hasty steps as before.
♡
Mr. Beaumont – Michael – held the door open for me. "Ladies first", he nodded towards the inside of the restaurant.
I instantly felt out of place.
This restaurant was clearly a five-star establishment – simple yet modern furniture, glass tables, people drinking champagne at 1 o'clock already, tall windows, soft lights and grey chairs.
In the middle of the first room was an elaborate indoor fountain which Roman gods depicted on it, tranquilly filling the silent space with pleasant water sounds. The entire right side of the restaurant, from what I could see, had no walls but only windows, which showed New York in its whole glory.
The glass tables were set up in a certain black, grey and white colour scheme, with pristine table linen and along with it the grey chairs. They had obviously chosen a banquet style.
There was just this ... rich atmosphere that this place radiated. Modern with chic, expensive clashing with expensive, people who received my pay check in mere minutes dined here. And not a person like me, who made maybe a sixth of what they earned in a day, who was dressed in a 30 $ outfit unlike those who wore Balmain, Gucci, Prada or god knows what.
Mr. Beaumont smiled at my speechlessness. "Look up."
I did. A grand white chandelier met my eyes. The hanging stones were glistening in the sunlight and filled the room with pristine white lights to underline even more the modern tone of this establishment.
I have never seen such a fancy restaurant, nor did I ever think I would. It was not only way out of my league, but also not my place at all.
A waiter spotted me, frowned, then directed his glance above me, to my giant of a boss. His face lit up with recognition. "Monsieur Beaumont! Welcome to our restaurant, a table by the window?"
"Close to the bar", my boss decided, undoing his coat. "Have Alexander take our order."
"As you wish! Anything for you, Monsieur."
He eyed me with a raised brow. I slouched unsurely. Mr. Beaumont laid a hand on my shoulder, causing me to look at him. He didn't meet my eyes this time. "She belongs with me, Lysandre", he explained, looking at the waiter instead.
"Certainly!", the look of dislike disappeared, and a fake smile gazed his lips. "Let me lead Monsieur and" his eyes fell to my finger. "Madame to the table."
"It's not- nevermind", I weakly mumbled as he already moved to the right side of the restaurant.
The grip on my shoulder got tighter, and a disapproving look presented itself on Mr. Beaumont's face. I nervously brushed my hair back.
Lysandre led us to the bar, which was made out of wood and was a nice contrast to the modern furniture, straight to a table by the window. It was in the corner of the restaurant, almost hidden away from the rest and empty, except for us.
"Champagne?", Lysandre asked Mr. Beaumont, not me.
"Do you even need to ask?", Mr. Beaumont raised a brow at him with an amused glint in his eyes. The waiter quickly disappeared. Mr. Beaumont went around the table and pulled out the chair for me.
"Thank you", I mumbled.
A tall, handsome man with brown curls and a clean shaved face swooped to our table, handing out the menus. "For starters I recommend your usual choice, Mr. Beaumont. Naturally we'll put twice the amount for free."
My fingers clawed the menu. For free? "Then bring us a platter of everything", Mr. Beaumont eyed me "without pork."
"As you wish", he nodded at us both, smiling even at me, then left again.
"Do you even drink? I forgot to ask."
"Occasionally", I tugged at my silk shirt.
"Relax", Mr. Beaumont noticed I felt uncomfortable. "You are not out of place."
"I do feel so", I brushed my hair back again. "I'm wearing clothing you use to dry your dishes."
Mr. Beaumont looked at me surprised. "Why would I spend 30 something dollars on a drying cloth? I buy the cheapest I can get."
Astonished, I met his eyes; he in return just shrugged it off and opened the menu. "Talking about cheap, don't you dare take the cheapest item. I'm covering the bill."
"That's exactly why I want to take something inexpensive", I said, then my eyes widened. Had I really said that?
"I can afford it, Sara", he seemed amused. "Don't feel bad. Take the lobster with caviar for all I care. I might just do that myself."
My eyes darted over the menu as he did the same. The prices were ridiculous. 200 $ for spaghetti Bolognese?! I shook my head, nervously peering over to Mr. Beaumont who flipped the pages back and forth, contemplating his choice. Salad can't be that expensive right?
A simple Caesar salad cost 150 $ ... what was in that salad to make it so pricy?!
Lysandre poured us two glasses of champagne, then left the bottle in an ice bucket. Alexander returned and readied his notepad. "Have you chosen a dish, Madame and Monsieur?" Both men looked at me.
"I – uh", dear god, I would make him pay 150 $ for just a salad ... "A Caesar salad please."
"Any breadsticks to accompany it, Madame?"
"It's not M-", I stopped myself, shaking my head. "No, thank you. Merci."
Mr. Beaumont waited to see if I would say more, drumming the table with his fingers, then let out a disapproving hum as I stayed quiet. "Add fries or something like that to her order. Add a lot of chicken breast too."
My heart made a summer sault.
"Steak for me. Medium rare. Steamed vegetables. Herbal butter on the steak."
"Potatoes or rice on the side, Monsieur?"
"Potatoes."
Alexander sketched everything down and nodded at us before he left again.
"Thank you, but that wasn't necessary", I told him shyly.
"Nonsense. We are here to eat properly and not sparingly. We should get good use out of that money." We grew silent.
I took a swing of my champagne to fill the nothingness.
Nervously I rubbed my neck, stared around the room, ignoring my boss who was looking directly at me. What could I talk about?
"Thank you for inviting me out for lunch, Mr. Beaumont."
He cleared his throat.
"I mean, Michael." It felt so ... intimate to call him by his first name. "But ... may I be honest?" "Of course." "Please, don't ever spend this much money on me again. These prices are a disaster."
"Where else should I have taken you?", he asked with a raised brow. "Subway?"
"For example", I agreed.
"Oh please – only the best for you", he shook his head.
I was screaming on the inside. Why was he so good at flirting!?
"Are you feeling better now?", he suddenly asked, leaning forward.
I leaned forward too. "Why are you – oh", I sunk back into my chair. He meant my outburst from before. "Yes, I've calmed down again."
"But are you feeling better?"
"... Not really", I admitted, my stomach twisting at that.
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened. Well, nothing is happening", I loosely answered.
He raised a brow. "What did you talk about?"
"It's not really something we should discuss here."
I looked at my ring. He looked at it too once I peered up again. "I see. You talked about your husband", he stated with a bitter tone.
"My soon to be ex-husband", I corrected. His eyes flickered up. "We are in the midst of divorce."
"Ah yes, you did mention that", he leaned back, taking a sip from his champagne. "Did you cry because of him?"
"Kind of. I told the others ...", I sighed heavily. "Why am I even telling you this?"
"Why not?"
"Because ... it's kind of ... private. We don't really know each other."
My boss scanned me silently, then leaned forward. After a thoughtful while, he spoke.
"I'm Michael Philippe Beaumont. My father is American. My mother is French. Hence my French middle name. I also speak both languages, along with German, Italian and Russian. I was born in New York on the 21st March 1988, grew up here too. I went to Howard University and studied economics and accounting. I worked for my mother before I opened my own company at the age of 23, as I got it for my 21st birthday from my father. I've been leading my company for six years now, soon seven." He scanned my ring finger. "I was once married. That was about four years ago."
What!? Nobody had told me that, nor did he seem like the type who would get married!
Mr. Beaumont leaned back. "I divorced her because she kept on stealing my money. Our marriage had been simply a business bond", he shrugged, unapologetic. "As for my hobbies: I like cooking, working out", that was obvious "reading. Days off where I can lean back with a glass of wine and a good book are my favourite. As for dislikes: I hate tardiness. Laziness. Indecisiveness."
He crossed his arms. "Anything else you want to know?"
I blinked. "That was a lot at once."
"That it was. Do you know me better now?"
"Why did you tell me all of this?"
"So you can tell me what got you so worried. I want to help you."
My cheeks burned. I couldn't meet his eyes. My heart was pounding in my throat.
I was still speechless.
I stared at him, not knowing what to say or where to even start. "W-What kind of books?"
"What kind I like to read?", he asked with an amused tone, trying his hardest not to laugh. "I'm a classics kinda guy. I'm surrounded by so much technology I need a break and avoid futuristic books. My favourites are the Trial by Franz Kafka, 1984 by George Orwell, Don Quijote by Miguel de Cervantes. I should stop here or else I'll talk day and night about my favourite titles. I love any classical literature I pick up." Michael leaned forward.
"Weren't it to the high expectations my parents left behind, I would have studied literature."
"Really?", I couldn't imagine him in that position.
"I would have loved to teach", he told me with a perfect smile. "But sometimes you can't have it all. The company makes me happy nonetheless."
I leaned back into my chair. So much intimate information.
"I ... I was born in Austria. Linz", I started, playing with my hair nervously. "My parents fled the war in Yugoslavia and settled down in Austria. I went to grammar school, secondary college and university there. I met my ... soon to be ex-husband there and we were four years together until I finished university. We married and were married for two years until", I hesitated. He told me so much, I should ... tell him to. "He cheated on me. Several times. I packed my bags and left."
A pitiful expression took over his interested one, and he lifted his hand, hesitated, then laid it on top of mine. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's alright. It happened. He showed me his true colours." I felt comforted by his touch and also ... excited, so much so, my heart was beating rapidly.
He took my hand properly and held it softly. I intertwined our fingers, not able to look at him.
"I like reading too. Drawing, running, writing. I have quite a big imagination and I need to express it. I can't contain my ideas." I crossed my legs, accidently touching his. He didn't seem to mind. "I dislike ... slow drivers, unnecessary fighting, lies and secrets. Miscommunication too."
"Basically what caused the downfall of your marriage", he bluntly yet precisely stated and understood.
I flinched at that. "Yes ..."
"Well, it happened. I'm not saying you should ignore what happened, because nobody deserves to get cheated on. Nobody. But you should see to it your next relationship doesn't move in the same direction."
"I don't think I'm ready for another relationship", I admitted hoarsely. "I can't fall in love again that easily. I never thought Noah would do such a thing to me."
His expression was hard to read. "That's what you say now, Sara. You'll see, in a year you'll think differently."
"I'm sure I won't", I laughed.
He squeezed my hand, his sky-blue eyes making me shiver with wanton. I felt myself grow wet at his imposing face, which brought out his heavy and aggressive features. I pressed my legs together and tried to ignore the tingling between my legs.
How could a man be this handsome and manly?
"We'll see about that."
My heart was making uneven beats.
The waiter swooped into our area, causing us to let go of each other. Alexander placed down our food with a smile and left as quickly as he had appeared.
I rubbed my neck and stared at the floor. Mr. Beaumont let out a cough.
"Let's eat."
"Let's", I peeped.
♡
Mr. Beaumont paid, not even listening to my complaining as he did so, nor did Alexander and Lysandre. Lysandre went away to fetch our jackets. Alexander talked about how delighted he was to serve us and repeated our order from before. Mr. Beaumont merely handed over his American Express Card with a flick of the wrist, looking at me as I rambled on.
Alexander typed something on the monitor, swiped the black card, bowed, and my boss took my jacket from Lysandre and helped me slip into it. He rested his hands on my shoulders.
"Thank you for the meal", Michael told them, turning me towards the exit. "Work is calling, Mrs Atkins."
"Finally", I mumbled under my breath. To my wonder, Mr. Beaumont caught that and a muscle in his jaw moved.
"It was an honour to serve you, Monsieur and Madame", Lysandre said after us. "Thank you for having us", Michael nodded at them and held the door open for me. I quickly left with a polite nod and waited until he joined me on the street. We started walking in the same speed.
"Now, what was going through your mind to spend 700 $ on a simple lunch out with me!? You could have spent a tenth of that amount if you went to some pizza place with me, down the street! Heck, the pizza here is so cheap, you could have bought 20 or so pieces with 70 $! -", I rambled with a heavy frown, once we were a safe distance away from the posh Trinity.
Michael took me by my elbow which made me grow speechless. "Finally you are quiet", he sighed with a sarcastic smile. "And, was the food so bad?"
"It was alright, but I still don't think the price is justified", I admitted, catching up to him. Now we walked next to each other, his hand still holding my elbow.
And it didn't bother me.
My slightly darker skin, the typical skin colour of a Balkan person, didn't stand out compared to his. He bore a sun kissed tone which gave him a healthy look. His hand was veiny and sinewy, also strong and ruff, yet his touch was soft and caring. He tightened his grip and I let him.
"I'll wait by the gate of the park for you. Saturday. 6 a.m. sharp."
"I'll be there on time", I promised.
"Good. And afterwards I'll treat you to breakfast. I know a place-"
"How about a suggestion from me?", I laughed.
"Fine with me", he met my eyes and smiled back. "But some place where we can be on our own. No busy cheap restaurants where you are pressed against each other."
"Have you heard of Mary's?"
Mr. Beaumont thought about it, then shook his head. "Not that I remember."
"You are in for a treat then", I hummed.
Michael stopped walking, a serious expression on his face.
"Mr. Beaumont?"
"That smile of yours is going to kill me", he grumbled, pulling me closer by my elbow, causing me to blush. "Stop being so cute, Sara. For god's sake, how do you think I can control myself if you are this cute?"
"I didn't do anything!", I defended myself with a rapid beating heart.
Noah had never told me I was cute.
My heart calmed down.
A disgusted expression filled his face. "You thought about him again."
"How do you know?", my eyes widened in shock.
"It's a talent of mine." He let go of my elbow with a sour face, his sky-blue eyes now ice cold. "Very well, hurry along or else we'll be late."
He hurried away, taking strong big steps. I had to run after him, so I would catch up.
Once I did, I grabbed his hand.
"I didn't think about him in that way!", I grumbled at Mr. Beaumont. My boss coldly met my eyes. "If you really think I still love my ex-husband", who I still, in the most stupid, naïve and ultimately way stubbornly liked, but didn't love anymore "then you are dead wrong! But please, if you think I would do this lunch thing and running date with you if I still loved my husband, then keep up that silly illusion for all I care. Be my guest. Think of me as Mrs. Atkins for forever. I don't care, Michael", I bit out.
I let go of his hand and stalked towards the company, livid and shaking from anger.
I didn't even reach the next street when he walked along with me again.
"You didn't think of him that way?", he spoke with a careful voice. I stayed quiet.
"You don't love him anymore?" I ignored him. I may have told the girls I loved him, and that was true. To some extent, I would forever love Noah. But I didn't love him anymore. Not now. In the past I had. Now I was almost free of him and crushing on this fucking idiot.
"We are going on a date on Saturday?", Mr. Beaumont asked with a stressed voice. I only raised my head and ignored him completely.
"For fuck's sake Sara", he grabbed my elbow harshly and swirled me around. His angry expression made me look to the floor, not in anger, but in wanton. He was doing something with me I didn't understand. Never had I craved physical touch from a man before. His scent rose to my nose and I almost sighed blissfully.
"Don't ignore me. I'm your boss."
"Maybe it should stay that way", I barked back, trying to free myself from his grasp.
His eyes were as cold as ice and as sharp. "You don't mean that yourself!"
"Oh?", I tore my arm away, crossing them. "Do you want me to prove myself?"
"Yes", he snarled, pulled me into an alleyway and pressed his lips against mine.
This was too fast for me, yet, I caught myself thinking 'finally'.
His lips kissed mine, hard, then soft, as if he waited for approval. His hand took me by my hips, pressing me close to him.
Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him back. Michael snarled approvingly in response, planting his lips demandingly on mine, kissing me dominantly. I let him lead the kiss, replied the best I could as I buried my hands into his hair, dizzy and breathless from the pleasure and passion he oozed through our kiss.
Once our heated kisses calmed down, they turned into a long, soft one. Michael held me by my face now, softly caressing my cheeks with his thumbs as he slowly pressed his lips onto mine.
"You are driving me crazy", he hotly mumbled in our kiss, softly tracing his tongue across my lips. I opened my mouth and his tongue explored me, touching me in the right places to make me shiver. Our tongues touched and battled for dominance – I won and slipped my tongue over his, which he gladly let me do. Michael continued kissing me easily, varying his loving gesture with his tongue and lips.
The soft noises of our kiss seemed to be the only sound around me. No traffic. No busy people. No snowy February. Only us.
My knees grew weak and I had to lean against him. He caught me, not stopping the kiss. My eyes fluttered open and his did too, looking directly at me with melting eyes. I wrapped my arms around his broad chest, all while they were shaking. I was nervous yet happy. I felt as light as a feather. Free of worries. I never wanted this to stop.
Michael kissed me with his eyes open, and I couldn't close mine either. I had to look at him, at the way he was looking at me, while his hands travelled down my arms to my hips and then around them. Our lips parted with one last kiss. We stayed endorsed in each other's arms.
I looked up to him from his chest. "You didn't prove yourself", he whispered into my ear and kissed the spot behind it. My knees were too weak to move yet.
"I can do that the next time", I mumbled with a sigh.
"How about now?", he asked in the same tone, brushing my hair back.
"We'll be late ...", I whispered, standing on my toes to get closer to him.
"In the company then."
"We'll be seen", I mumbled, while he kissed down a path from my ear to my throat.
"Or in my car. As long as I can hold you like this again."
I could count my heartbeats out loud, that's how hard they were.
He kissed me on the lips again. I sighed into the kiss, which he took as his chance to slip his tongue into my mouth. I let out a surprised noise and enjoyed it as he dominated me instantly.
"Good girl", he mumbled, hungrily clasping his lips on top of mine. Good girl. Good god what a turn on. I pressed myself fully against him. I felt a smile tug on his lips.
Loud noises filled our surrounding. Confused, our kisses got shorter, until he grumbled "my phone". Michael drew it out and pressed answer. "What is it?", he barked, his thumb brushing my pulsing lips. "Yes, I'll be there in a few minutes. Tell them to prepare beforehand. We'll be there." He ended the phone call and took my elbow. "The meeting is about to start."
"Another meeting?", my shoulders sunk.
He straightened. "I have to train you into your newest position?"
"What position?", my body went numb "aren't you satisfied with my work?"
"I am – so much so, I'm promoting you. You'll be promoting our company in business presentations, information booths, company presentations as well as joining me in meetings."
My shoulders sunk at his words.
"You are a highly adaptable and clever woman. I want to train you into perfection."
"What for?"
"What for?", he asked with a raised brow. "You, Sara Atkins, will be my newest personal assistant."