Page 42 of Mr. Aster
“Is this your idea of a compliment, telling me I’m pretty while putting me in mylower-classplace?” she smiled and shook her head. “Get to your point, and please, whatever you do, try not to compliment me because compliments are always disguised insults from what I’ve learned about you.”
“I didn’t intend to insult you,” I said. “I was just taken by your beauty tonight, and your perfume adds to all of that,” I smiled, somehow shocked I could pay her a compliment without insulting her. “That’s all. And before we entered thiswar, you and I did have a short period of time where we agreed on things.”
“Yeah, that morning the sun was coming up, I remember,” she said. “Too bad it didn’t last.”
“Well, if it is any consolation, you’ve only met the business side of me. Honestly, before my wife was killed, I was an agreeable man,” I smiled, recalling Melissa’s personality.
Darcy was like Melissa in that she didn’t back down from me, and unlike all the other debutants, Melissa wasn’t fake in her personality. She was real, and she could be a real bitch at times, too. It’s what made us a tremendous team and admirable power couple. She didn’t take shit from her peers, nor did I. She also came from money and acted accordingly, which was the opposite of Darcy. But the strong side of Darcy and the way she stood up to me reminded me of my late wife, and instead of being saddened by it, I enjoyed it.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” she said, snapping me out of my soft moment of reflection.
“I don’t need anyone’s sympathies,” I said defensively.
“There you have it,” she snapped back. “The second I’mactuallynice to you and willing to raise a fucking white flag on this bickering bullshit we always find ourselves doing, you gothere.”
“Go there? Go where?” I questioned, flustered. “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m a very direct person, Miss Burke, and whatyou will find with me is truth and honesty. Whether or not you agree with what I say is on you.”
“Back to formalities too, I see,” she said with the same irritation. “You know, if I didn’t hate you, I would feel so fucking sorry for you.”
“Hate is an extremely strong word.”
“I know, and it was never in my vocabulary until I met you. There are many reasons why,Mr. Aster,” she mocked, “you and I could never work out, and nine of them are what you just insulted me for.”
“What other reasons could there be?” I answered, biting back at her for insinuating I was wrong, and she had the correct answer.
“The main reason is thatIcould never be with someone or even fall for someone who brings out the worst in me,” she answered while I put the car in park in the private parking area of The French Laundry restaurant. I looked over at her eyes, beautiful in their sky-blue color yet lethal in her gaze. “You’re just a really,reallybad man.”
That cut me deeply in a weird way, and for the first time in a long time, I feltupsetthat I had led someone to see me as a bad person.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” was the only response I could muster while I opened my door to step out of the car.
Her eyes held mine. “I don’t need anyone’s sympathies,” she said, throwing my words back at me.
Before I could respond or step out of the car to open her door and take her hand as a gentleman would, she had stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
I had no idea what would happen at dinner tonight with Jim and Avery Mitchell. What I did know was that Darcy and I, if left alone for longer than fifteen minutes, could do some very real damage to each other.
We were the supreme definition of oppositesnotattracting.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy
Though I’d lived in the area forever, I’d never been to The French Laundry, and now that I was here, I regretted not coming sooner. It was everything I expected it to be and so much more.
The brick building dated back to the pastoral 19thCentury in the Napa Valley when it was, in fact, aFrench Hand Laundry.The building was an ivy-colored two-story former laundry surrounded by herbs, roses, and a modest garden. There was nothing especially fancy about the place from the exterior, even down to the small, back parking lot, which had no fancy valets to retrieveMr. Aster’sthree-million-dollar Bugatti for him.
Walking through the interior, I was able to keep relaxed, feeling a sense of romance and charm, even while the only enemy I’d ever made casually rested his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the place as if he owned it.
From the moment we entered, we were greeted warmly by attentive staff who ushered us into a meticulously designeddining space. The interior of the place was intimate and understated, with muted colors, soft lighting, and tasteful décor that was befitting the reputation of the world-renowned chef, Thomas Keller.
Our table was in a corner with the perfect amount of privacy, almost lending the feeling that we were the only people in the dining room. It didn’t surprise me that we were offered the besttable. I was here with two powerful billionaires who demanded privacy while dining extravagantly, most likely using this dinner for business and not pleasure.
While it was obvious that business was why we were here—aside from Sebastian being a dick and wanting to make our first appearance asa couplein front of his business associate—I had to admit, the atmosphere felt the opposite of all of that.
Thank God for that, too, because I had many thoughts about throwing myself from Sebastian’s car on the trip here. Maybe that’s dramatic, but I was genuinely dreading having to lie to Avery and Jim and, worse, doing what I’d been doing since we began our luxurious dining experience, smiling and acting star-stuck that Sebastian Aster was mine!
Avery and I kept the conversation light while Jim and Sebastian chummed it up over details of how Sebastian was refining and enhancing the winery. I knew Avery must’ve had five billion questions for me, but instead of getting into it, we ate our food, sipped our wine, and got through the fancy meal, talking about how delicious the food was.
