Page 50 of Making It While Faking It
I thought I would toss and turn from the urge of wanting him so badly I could burst. But I didn’t. After bathing, moisturizing, and then crawling into bed, I fell immediately to sleep.
Achilles must’ve already left for the day when I woke up and dressed myself smartly in a matching golden yellow skirt-and-sleeveless-shirt set. I chose the breathable cotton outfit because I could see the humidity kissing the windows, and knew that New York City was going to feel like a swamp today.
There’s never a need to eat breakfast before coming to the restaurant. The morning staff always makes sure there are scrambled eggs, bacon, danishes, fruit, and coffee for everyone.
I’m now eating at my desk when Hayley, one of the administrative assistants, comes rushing into my office without knocking, skin patchy, eyes deliriously wide with excitement, and says, “He’s here. Your fiancé.”
I tap down my own excitement as I rise calmly out of my chair to stand. “Thanks, Hayley. Please have him…”
She raises a finger pointedly. “He’s brought an entire work crew, and he wants you to come out and select shutters.”
I feel my eyes grow wide as I process what she just told me. “He’s done what?”
That’s right. He said he would furnish my restaurant with security shutters, but I never thought he would get it done this soon.
No wonder Hayleylooked so feverish when she broke into my office. Achilles is a vision of yumminess. In the suits he wears, his body expands, curves, and elongates in all the right places.
He watches me approach, making me feel as if I’m on a movie screen in a dark theater and there’s no one to look at but me.
“You look pretty today,” he says when I’m close.
I look down at my feet to blush before I’m able to thank him. Before I saw him, I was a little unnerved by his boldness. But seamlessly, after one sweet compliment, I’m like putty in his hands. Once I recover from bashfulness, I ask, “Who are all these people in my restaurant?”
Surprisingly, Achilles chuckles. I think I’ve broken through his defenses. Of course, he reminds me that he said he would install the security blinds and door system.
“I remember,” I say.But I never thought you’d follow through with it, I don’t say.
But he has followed through, and I select a brand that I can lower at the end of the day and will have the aesthetic appearance of opened shutters on the outside windows. When potentially property-damaging weather systems roll in, the blinds will close and lock automatically. Also, if the blinds sense someone is trying to damage them on purpose, an app will send a video to my cell phone and then ask if it or I should call the police. And all the work, every piece of it, will be finished today.
I refrain from throwing my arms around him and mauling him with a deep kiss better than the one I gave him last weekend.
Then Achilles asks me to take him on a tour of the restaurant. It’s easier to be near him when I have my business brain on. He asks me a lot of questions that I don’t know the answers to. I don’t have a tracking system in place for all the supplies that are bought and used in the kitchen and around the restaurant in general. Apparently, I should know how much toilet paper is consumed. He also points out what I already know—the build-out was not a good business decision. I was not in the position to expand yet. And also, a restaurant is a different kind of business than an event hall. He says I should consider incorporating the dance hall into the main restaurant. But first, I have to make sure my menu can accommodate more seating.
We’re standing in my office. It’s the end of a long and arduous assessment by Achilles. Even though it feels like a two-ton gorilla sits on my shoulder, I know what to do to shrug the beast off me.
“That was a lot,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”
Achilles’s hand flies up like he wants to touch me, but then he thinks better of it. “No, you haven’t, Treasure. Now you know what to do. So do it.”
I interlace my fingers so that I won’t succumb to the urge to grip the back of his neck and pull his lips down to mine. “I will,” I whisper, looking at my hands.
“Oh,” he says, and I quickly look up. “I’m going out of town until next week. How about we go out on our date when I get back?”
I count the days in my head. It’s Thursday. That means he’ll be gone for three days at least. I miss him already.
“Sure, okay,” I say as if it’s no big deal. I also refrain from asking him if he’s leaving town for business or pleasure. However, the question is expanding inside me like a balloon, wanting to burst past my lips.
“But you have a nice establishment here,” he adds.
“Thanks. After you, things will certainly change.” I chuckle.
“After me, huh?” He’s smirking. No… it’s more than a smirk. Achilles Lord is, without a doubt, flirting with me.
“So…” I grin coyly. “Are you spending the weekend with the woman you thought you were groping yesterday morning?” Ooh, that was crafty of me and a big score. My breaths slow to a crawl as I wait for his response.
Hallelujah, I made him simper again. “No. I’m not.”
“Who did you think you were groping, anyway?” I venture to ask.
