Us

Elliot

I parked the car in front of Susan’s apartment building, checking my watch. 6:58 PM. Perfect timing.

It wasn’t lost on me how uncharacteristic this entire situation was. I wasn’t the type to pick someone up personally, much less for dinner, but here I was, gripping the steering wheel and wondering if she was upstairs planning a last-minute excuse to cancel.

A part of me hoped she wasn’t.

Climbing out of the car, I adjusted my jacket and made my way to the entrance. The doorman tipped his hat as I entered, and I nodded, taking the elevator up to her floor.

When I reached her door, I hesitated briefly before knocking.

The door opened after a moment, and Meera stood there, grinning as if she’d been expecting me all her life. “Mr. Prescott, right on time. Come in.”

I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the apartment. Susan wasn’t in sight, but I could hear the faint click of heels from another room.

“She’s almost ready,” Meera said, practically bouncing with excitement. “She’s been fussing over her outfit for the last hour.”

I arched a brow. “Has she?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Meera said, her grin widening. “She might deny it, but I think she’s a little nervous.”

I chuckled lightly, picturing Susan pacing around, muttering under her breath. The thought was oddly endearing.

Before I could reply, Susan appeared in the hallway, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

She wore a sleek, red dress that hugged her figure perfectly, the neckline teasing without being overt, and her blonde hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She looked… breathtaking.

“Are you just going to stare, or are we leaving?” she asked, her tone sharp, though I caught the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks.

I recovered quickly, stepping forward. “You look stunning, Susan.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if my words had caught her off guard, but she quickly masked it with a dismissive shrug. “Thank you. Shall we go?”

I glanced at Meera, who was watching the exchange like it was her favorite drama. “Thanks for your help,” I told her.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Meera said with a wink. “Have fun, you two.”

Susan shot her a glare before grabbing her clutch and stepping past me.

I followed her out, holding the door open as we exited. The elevator ride down was silent, but I could feel the tension crackling in the air.

When we reached the car, I opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated briefly before sliding in, her movements graceful yet guarded.

I walked around to the driver’s side, settling in and starting the engine. As I pulled onto the street, I glanced over at her.

“You really do look amazing tonight,” I said, breaking the silence.

She turned to me, her expression unreadable. “Flattery won’t work, Elliot.”

I smirked. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the faint smile tugging at her lips.

This was going to be a long night. And I couldn’t wait.

****

Susan

The car came to a smooth stop in front of a grand building illuminated by soft, golden lights. The valet hurried forward, opening my door before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt.

I stepped out, smoothing the fabric of my dress as my heels clicked against the pavement. The place was breathtaking...polished stone steps, towering glass doors, and a subtle hum of sophistication that radiated wealth.

I glanced at Elliot, who handed the keys to the valet with a calmness that only added to his air of authority.

“Impressed?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stepped beside me.

“Not really,” I replied, shrugging as I took in the extravagant exterior. It was beautiful, yes, but I’d learned not to be swayed by grand gestures. Especially not from Elliot Prescott.

He chuckled, holding out his arm in a mock invitation. “Shall we?”

I ignored the gesture, walking past him toward the entrance. If he wanted to charm me with a fancy dinner, he’d have to try harder than that.

Inside, the place was even more lavish. Chandeliers hung like constellations, soft music played in the background, and the scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air. A maître d’ greeted us with a smile that barely reached his eyes, clearly well-practiced.

“Mr. Prescott, welcome,” the man said, leading us through the restaurant without waiting for a reply.

We walked past tables draped in pristine white linens, diners engaged in quiet conversations, and wait staff gliding like they were performing a well-rehearsed ballet.

At the far end of the room, we were led to a private section, cordoned off by elegant curtains. A single table sat in the center, adorned with candles and an extravagant floral arrangement.

The maître d’ pulled out my chair, and I hesitated for a fraction of a second before sitting. Elliot took his seat across from me, his expression annoyingly smug.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Okay, Prescott. Why are we here?”

He raised a brow, feigning confusion. “To have dinner.”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Cut the act, Elliot. You could’ve sent an email, arranged a meeting at the office, or just ignored me entirely, like you’ve done for the past decade. So why this?”

He met my gaze, his blue eyes as calm and unreadable as ever. “Does there have to be a reason?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “You don’t do anything without a reason.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Maybe I just wanted to have dinner with you.”

I snorted, earning a raised eyebrow from him. “Try again.”

“Fine,” he said, his tone softening. “I figured it was time we talked. Away from the office. Away from everything.”

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, but I refused to let it show. “Talk about what?”

“Us,” he said simply.

There it was. The elephant in the room that I’d been pretending didn’t exist since the day he walked back into my life.

“There is no ‘us,’” I said, my voice firmer than I’d expected.

“Not anymore,” he replied, his tone laced with something I couldn’t quite place...regret, maybe? “But there was. And maybe there could be again.”

The waiter appeared then, interrupting the moment as he set down our menus and poured wine into our glasses.

I stared at the menu, not really reading it, my heart pounding in my chest. Elliot Prescott had a way of stirring things in me that I thought I’d buried long ago.

But I wasn’t going to let him win this easily. Not this time.