Page 13 of Ms. Fortune

“Ugh. Fine. Let’s go.” I brush past him toward the gold car named “Betty.” He hurries to beat me to the car and opens the passenger door for me. He even bows slightly as I approach. I just shake my head.

Before he gets in the car, he makes a quick phone call. Once inside, his nearness becomes magnified as we’re cocooned together, his light cologne mixing with the leather of the interior. My senses seem heightened whenever he’s near me, and I mean all of my senses. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and I don’t know if I like it. I feel like I’m a bit out of control when I’m around him, which bothers the crap out of me.

“The restaurant we’re going to is literally just up the road, so you won’t be far from your car.” He turns the key, and the engine roars to life, rumbling beneath us like a newly-tamed predator. The grin on his face at the sound is like a little kid on Christmas morning, and I can’t help but smile now. I catch myself before he notices, though, and turn to look out the passenger side window as he pulls onto the road.

Brandon drives carefully, not pushing the car's limits like I thought he would. His restraint is surprising but admirable. Mischief Motors is very close to the airport, and after maybe five minutes of driving north, with the bright lights of the strip beckoning in the distance, he pulls into the lot of a familiar upscale Italian restaurant. While I haven’t been here in years, my dad would bring me here for special occasions like birthdays or graduations. I can’t help but tear up a little bit at the memories we made here.

“Are you okay?” Brandon’s turned off the car and is studying me with concern.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look upset.”

Under his intense gaze, I feel seen but also exposed. My volatile history of making bad choices in men has taught me not to allow this closeness. But something about Brandon makes me want to open up to him. I know in my heart and my head that would be a mistake. Doing that will only open me up to hurt. And not just me, him too.

I push open the door and step out. I don’t want to discuss my grief with Brandon. We are not friends. We’re barely acquaintances. I don’t even know why I agreed to this. This is supposed to be a business dinner, so let’s get down to business.

Chapter 9

FROM OUT OF NOWHERE

BRANDON

So, the Ice Queen still hasn’t thawed to me yet. This is turning out to be more difficult than I initially thought. I guess I need to try harder but fuck if I know how to do that. I am not used to working so hard for a woman’s attention. I haven’t had to chase someone like this since my first year at Harvard. And Normandy Blake is not like anyone I’ve ever been interested in. I sense that there are sensitive and vulnerable layers to her that she hasn’t shown anyone, and uncovering what those are is intriguing.

I catch up with her in time to open the door to the restaurant for her. Chivalry is not dead for me and treating a woman well shouldn’t be a thing of the past. In my book, making someone feel cared for or taken care of isn’t a bad thing. It’s how it should be.

Regardless of my intentions, Normandy frowns, and she nods begrudgingly at me as she walks past and enters the restaurant. Baby steps.

I called ahead, and the owner, Maria, is waiting for us when we walk in. I’m not appropriately dressed as I usually would be, and it didn’t even dawn on me until now when she shakes her head as she scowls at my jeans.

“Brandon, tesoro. What am I going to do with you?” Her scowl turns quickly into a grin as she holds her arms out to invite me into a warm hug. I have to lean down to reach her; she’s so short. When I pull away, she eyes Normandy carefully, giving her the full once-over but ending with a nod of approval. “Moglie, no?”

“No,” Normandy laughs nervously, a pink flush running up her neck into her cheeks. “Definitely not his wife.”

Maria and I share a look, both of us surprised Normandy understands Italian. Maria winks at me as though she knows better, but as I glance over to Normandy, the flush looks to be more from anger than embarrassment or nerves. That’s not a good sign.

We’re led through the restaurant to a private booth in the back, away from other tables or prying eyes. As soon as we sit down, a traditional tomato and bread soup is delivered, and wine is poured.

“I’ll be back shortly with your entrees,” Maria says, smiling widely, and she turns away toward the kitchen.

Normandy looks after her, confused. “We didn’t tell her what we wanted….”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Maria knows what you want, even if you don’t. It’s a gift of hers.”

“Oh…okay.” She twists her wine glass on the table by the stem, staring at it intently. “So, what is this business proposition you have for me?” Her dark eyes snap up to mine, and they’re just as intense as the photo I have of her. Her self-confidence is beautiful, and everything she does is passionate. I like that about her.

“Getting right to it, huh?” I laugh, but even I can hear the nerves in it. I don’t know what it is about Normandy Blake that undoes me whenever I speak to her. It’s as though her entire aura short circuits my brain.

She doesn’t reply and keeps her gaze steady. Waiting for me to go on. How can I warm her to me if she won’t give me a chance?

“As you may or may not know, LC Consolidated hosts a charity gala every year before our annual meeting.”

“I am aware. From what I’ve seen in our books, it’s one of Mischief Motor’s busier nights.” She shrugs silently, but then her eyes tighten, and she’s a little panicked. “Is the ball being called off with your girlfriend’s arrest?”

“Ex-girlfriend. And no.”

Her shoulders sag in relief, and I take a minute to examine her closer. I wasn’t sure what would happen when she took over the business, but I’m happy to see her concern. She really does have her company's best interest in mind and takes her position seriously. I admire that. Victor would be proud of her.

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