Page 40 of Steel Beauty

Frederick moves in and out of the room with practiced ease, setting down water glasses and pouring the first round of a rich shiraz. Charleston lifts her glass, cradling it delicately as she takes a sip. Her eyes close briefly, savoring the taste. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

I swirl the wine in my glass. “Chloe knows wine. She’s got a real knack for pairing it with food just right.”

Frederick returns with the first course, a beet and goat cheese salad drizzled with honey. Charleston takes a bite, her expression lighting up. “This is incredible. I didn’t think I cared for beets, but this changes my mind.”

I chuckle, cutting into mine. “That’s Chloe for you—she can win over anyone with her food.”

The main course arrives, and Charleston leans in with a contented sigh. “This is cooked to perfection. If all food in Australia is like this, I might never leave.”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself caught up in the simple joy of watching her savor the food.

Frederick tops off our wine and quietly slips out, leaving us alone again. I glance at Charleston, searching for the right way to ease into the things I need to say. But the words sit heavy in my chest, tangled with nerves. I’m not usually one to stumble over what to say, but with her, it’s different.

We keep the conversation light—travel, the quirks of Australian slang, and the best dance clubs in Sydney—even though my mind isn’t fully on it. Each time I try to steer things toward something more serious, the moment doesn’t feel quite right, and I back out at the last second.

I take another sip of wine, hoping it’ll settle the restless energy humming beneath my skin.

Frederick returns to clear the plates, leaving the soft glow of candlelight between us. Charleston leans back in her chair, letting out a contented sigh. “I’m stuffed, but I’ve never turned down a dessert in my life, and I don’t plan to start tonight.”

I like a girl who’ll eat and doesn’t pick at her plate or pretend she’s not hungry.

Charleston is about to have her mind blown. “Dessert is Chloe’s specialty. You’re in for a real treat.”

Frederick reappears with a delicate lemon tart, perfectly topped with fresh berries and a light dusting of powdered sugar. He sets it down with a quiet smile before slipping out, leaving us alone again.

Last course of the meal. The moment feels as close to right as it’s going to get. “Have you given much thought to what we talked about last night?”

Her fork pauses midair, and she looks up at me through thick, dark lashes. “I don’t think there’s been a single moment since last night that I haven’t thought about it.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it either.”

The sincerity in her eyes draws me in, but there’s also hesitation. “This is scary for me. Being in this private room eases my fear, but being in public with you is scary.”

Her words reveal a fear deeper than I’d realized, slicing through my confidence. “What can I do to take that fear away?”

Her expression softens, her eyes searching mine, but she shakes her head. “I don’t think you can.”

I nod slowly, letting her words settle. Laurelyn’s advice comes back to me, clear as day:She has to feel safe if this is going to work.

This isn’t about finding the perfect thing to say—it’s about proving it through actions. Trust isn’t something you promise; it’s something you build.

“We can avoid public places and stick to private settings where there’s zero chance of your coworkers seeing us. How does that sound?”

Charleston hesitates, then nods slightly. “Private places would work.”

Encouraged, I press on. “You wouldn’t be able to stay in the room next to them since there’s the possibility of them seeing your comings and goings. I would move you to one of the penthouses on the top floor which has its own private lift. That would eliminate running into them in the hotel.”

Her eyes widen, a flare of surprise breaking through her composure. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

I shake my head, brushing off her concern easily. “You need to be in a place where we can move freely without worrying about running into your coworkers. You’ll tell them there was an issue with your room, which isn’t a lie—being so close to them is an issue. And for the trouble of moving from a room you’ve already settled into, the hotel upgraded you at no expense. No fuss. It won’t raise suspicion—just a bit of envy.”

She says nothing, her eyes wide.

I chuckle softly, holding her gaze. “What do you think of that?”

Her lips curve into a small smile. “It would definitely make things easier if the chances of bumping into them in the hallway or the elevator are eliminated. I hate being put in a position where I have to explain where I’m going, where I’ve been, or why I’m dressed the way I am.”

It’s not a yes, but not a no either.

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