Chapter 9: D-Day

My week was a rollercoaster. It had a perfect balance of good, bad and downright shocking days. Still, I was glad that I was ending it on a good note. Besides, what was better than a Friday night dinner with the newest CEO and most eligible bachelor in town?

I couldn't think of anything else at the moment.

I successfully avoided Mike for most of the day, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the occasional check-ins accompanied with a complimentary coffee and bagel to 'help me feel better.' I smiled weakly every time he turned up at my desk, perfectly hiding the excitement I felt for tonight's upcoming event.

When I finished for the day, I was out of the office at the speed of light. I snuck out like the coward I truly was.

"You're leaving early," I heard Mike say, looking delicious as always in a green corduroy shirt and jeans.

It seems I'm not very good at sneaking out because I always get caught. Playing the sick card again, I placed a hand on my forehead. "I just need to get some rest."

He looked sincerely concerned, and I couldn't help the intense feeling of guilt that flooded in. I should have told him the truth, but it was too late for regrets.

"Why didn't you call in sick today?"

"I had a lot of work to do, I didn't want to disappoint Miranda."

"Get some rest. See you on Monday, Leah,"

I offered him yet another weak smile and quickly exited the building.

***

I hopped into the shower the moment I got home. With a limited amount of time on my hands, I needed to get my makeup done perfectly.

After a refreshing shower, I sat in front of my mirror and started on my war paint. I was perfecting my contour when Marcella opened my door, hands behind her back, and a mischievous look on her face.

"What's going on?" I asked skeptically.

She stopped hiding her hands and revealed a big white gift box, with a red ribbon in the middle.

"What's that?"

"You tell me."

I snatched the box from her, and pulled off the red ribbon. I gasped slowly when I opened it.

The box contained red mules and a dress. I picked up the dress and this time, Marcella gasped. It was a baby pink mini corset dress with embellished jewels.

"D*mn, your super client has taste," Marcella said. "How does he even know where you live?"

"The same way he got my phone number. This attitude would be stalkerish if he wasn't so attractive." I stared at it for a moment and then set it back in the box. "I'm not going to wear it," I said simply.

"What?" Marcella asked, clearly confused. "Why not? It's beautiful."

"It is, but if he thinks he can just get me a dress and all past transgressions would be forgiven? Then he's sorely mistaken." I had a few tricks up my sleeve and it was game on from now.

"So, what are you going to wear?"

"I was thinking of wearing the purple dress."

"Don't do that, Leah,"

"Why not?"

"Because we both know you're just trying to test him."

"And what's wrong with that? He said I could make him suffer all night, his words not mine."

"Doesn't mean you actually have to do it."

I was definitely going to make him suffer, but maybe Marcella was right about the dress. Maybe wearing it again wasn't such a good idea.

"Fine, I won't wear the purple dress." I walked to my wardrobe and pulled something out. I turned to Marcella. "What about this?"

"Oh, my G*d. Yes, that's the one. You'll definitely have him on his knees by the end of the night."

I smiled. That was exactly what I wanted.

***

My cab slowed down to a stop in front of a magnificent cave themed restaurant.

Impressive, I thought, but I wasn't going to let Declan know that I felt that way. I smelled him before I saw him.

He stood in front of the restaurant, in a black suit, with his hands in his pocket.

"We match again," he said as I approached him.

My plan had failed. I stared down at the black high neck dress I had chosen. I had subconsciously played right into his hand and had given him a reason to smile.

"You knew I wouldn't wear that dress, didn't you?"

"I did. Love the shoes by the way."

"How did you know I'd wear black though?"

"Red shoes, black always goes great with red," he said with an obvious tone as he guided me into the restaurant, his hand on the small of my back.

Although I wanted to make him suffer, I couldn't help the small smile that slowly took over my face when he pulled out the chair for me.

I sat down gracefully, surveying the restaurant with an aloof air around me.

"What do you think?"

"It's alright for a first date."

"A first date? Does that mean there'll be more dates?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I wouldn't dare."

I set down my bag on the table and looked at him intently. "You said you were going to explain yourself. The floor is yours, Romeo."

"You're pretty direct. I like it."

"I'm a busy woman, my time is precious."

"I wanted to take you out to dinner, so let's order first at least."

"Fine," I said, picking up the menu.

He confidently waved over a waiter to take our order. I looked at the menu, trying to pick something, but I couldn't help but throw glances at him. He eventually caught me looking, and smiled brightly.

I cleared my throat. "Why don't you order?" I said, dropping my menu.

The waiter appeared beside us at that moment, bringing with him a small sense of relief for both Declan and me. I could sense the tension building between us, and I was grateful for the distraction.

Declan eyed me suspiciously, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. I refused to break eye contact with him, determined to keep him on his toes. I wanted him to squirm a little, to feel uncomfortable, but he seemed unfazed.

He picked up the menu and turned to the waiter. "We'll have the chef's special, and a bottle of your best wine," he said confidently.

"Of course," the waiter replied, before disappearing.

I felt a little disappointed that I hadn't been able to ruffle his feathers, but I wasn't ready to give up yet.

I placed a hand under my jaw, thinking of ways to make him squirm, but I couldn't think of anything. I was losing the fight in me and I was somehow okay with that. He was difficult to resist after all.

Still, I couldn't let it go. "What if I don't like the chef's special?"

"Tony knows what he's doing," he said, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at humor.

"Tony?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "You're on a first name basis with the chef?"

"I've known him since middle school."

"You know," I said, leaning closer to him. "I've always found men who could cook to be incredibly sexy."

Declan raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? I'm sure Tony would love to hear that," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

I giggled, glad that I had finally gotten under his skin. "Maybe I should be on a date with Tony then."

His expression darkened, sending shivers down my spine. "You're testing me, Miss Garcia."

I smiled sweetly at him, raising my hands in surrender. "I promise to be good if the food is just as good."

"It will be. I trust Tony."

"I don't know him, so I don't trust him," I retorted.

"Do you trust me?"

I looked at him, taken aback by the question. Weirdly, I trusted him to not harm me. I felt safe with him. However, did I trust him with my feelings? I think not. I was grateful for the question, but it was the perfect opening for my follow-up question.

"I trust you not to hurt me physically. But do I trust you with my heart? That's a different story entirely," I replied, trying to keep my tone light and teasing. Then with a more serious voice, I said, "You still haven't told me what happened that night." I said simply.

He ran a hand through his hair, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. That confused me, because I thought the point of this whole thing was so he could explain things to me.

"I understand, trust is earned, not given and I haven't really given you a reason to trust me," he replied.

"You can start by telling me why you stood me up," I said, eager to get an explanation.

He looked at me and hesitated a bit. Declan seemed to be struggling with his words. I sat there, anxiously anticipating his explanation.

I opened my mouth to speak when none came, but before I could form the words, the food came. I'm usually happy to see food, but we didn't need the interruption at that moment.

He seemed grateful for it though, because he offered a quick smile and pointed at the food. To his credit, it did look and smell amazing. As hard as I tried, I couldn't keep myself from it.

Well, I guess this conversation had been postponed, but I needed answers, and I was going to get it.