Chapter 6

Tanner

The clock chimes loudly behind me, indicating its half past the hour.

I feel sweat form at my brow, and I quickly wipe it away. Wringing my hands and my neck, I resort to my phone to distract myself, absent-mindedly scrolling through my emails and Twitter feed.

I’m nervous—I’m actually fucking nervous—and I have no idea why.

I swear, she is the only person that can make me this fucking anxious. She knows exactly how to rile me up in her peculiar and aggravating ways.

And it’s not like me to overanalyze, to get anxious, and to worry. But with her, my mind spirals out of control.

It makes no sense because I’ve dealt with bigger shit than this before.

Hell, that’s what every runway show and new collection is all about—pressure, nerves, anticipation—all wrapped up in one package. The success all dependent upon critics.

But tonight’s critic—Elsa—has found a way to get to me and under my skin like no one else has or can.

I sigh in exasperation and start pacing the length of the veranda, unable to stay still.

Anxiety seeps through me, and my inner watchdog comes out—I eye the door, the main entrance, and my watch in eagerness.

I fidget with the pink and white roses the restaurant drowned the balcony with, per my request. It eases me a bit, and I smile lazily, taking in the scene.

I’m not a romantic man. I don’t have a knack for hearts; I rarely buy flowers; and I usually run away from all things dealing with love.

It’s not something I’m used to or have grown up with.

But I’m a damn good designer, and I know gorgeous when I see it. And that’s exactly what this restaurant and this veranda is—fucking gorgeous.

In all honesty, it’s a breathtaking scene. It’s as if they’ve taken a page out of a Nicholas Sparks novel or some shit and brought it to life here.

Fortunately, I know people who can make me look like I’m romantic—it’s all included with the charm. Plus, it makes me feel a little bit better, knowing that I’m making it harder for her to run away.

That is, if she hasn’t already.

The veranda is decorated with sparkly lights that twinkle above and varying designs of the pink and white roses. There’s even a fucking wall of roses, a Kanye West-style rose wall. Yeah, yeah, it’s a bit much, but it’s worth it.

The whole scene complements the hue of the full moon and the few bright stars in the sky nicely, and the city lights make an impeccable backdrop.

Like I said, it looks like a movie set. And whoever did this needs a raise because it’s fucking impressive.

Irritation gnawing at me, I look down at my watch again—she was supposed to have been here a while ago.

I laugh. I wouldn’t be surprised if she chickened out. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s all talk and no action.

Perhaps she’s too afraid to go through with this plan. I knew she didn’t want to be in business with me again, but I was certain that her work was more important to her than her ego.

I look out over the balcony, casually checking to see if she’s below, hoping that my suspicions aren’t true.

“Tanner,” I hear from behind me.

I turn towards my name and am stunned, my body shocked from the sight of her.

My breath escapes me, and my heart begins to pound.

Fuck me. She is too much.

Her golden hair glistens underneath the shimmering lights, and her skin glows.

Her dress hugs her curves, accentuating her tight body, those delicious breasts, and that firm ass.

I swallow, searching for my breath. And my dick stiffens against my pants, eager to fill her.

Fuck, she can make me cum just from the sight of her.

She smiles softly and walks to me.

She eyes the space, and I notice a sparkle in her eyes.

My nerves settle when I see her pleased expression, though it’s quickly replaced with my desire to rip that dress off her.

I need to calm the hell down. If I don’t, this dinner will be excruciating.

“Elsa.” I nod, remaining as cool and collected as I possibly can.

I gesture towards the table in the center of our private area, and she strides over to it.

“You look stunning,” I say, greedily taking in every inch of her.

“Thank you,” she replies curtly. I can tell my compliment makes her nervous.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I ordered before you got here. A bottle of their best Cabernet Sauvignon and two filets. You’re favorite.”

She looks up at me and purses her lips.

Ah, there we go. I smile at her, loving the fullness of her mouth and that expression specifically.

“You remembered?” she asks, surprised.

“I always remember how a woman likes her meat,” I wink at her.

She shakes her head and mockingly laughs. “And to think I thought you were being sincere.”

“Me, sincere? Angel, have you forgotten everything about me?”

I reach for the already opened wine bottle, thanks to the waitstaff, and pour two heavy glasses for the both of us.

She reaches for hers, almost immediately.

“That was the goal. It was in my best interest to forget most things about you.” She smirks teasingly and takes a large gulp of her wine. “Hmmm. It tastes delicious. Also, this veranda…” She pauses, looking around at it, amazement in her eyes. “It’s breathtaking.”

“I thought so myself. It’s rather fitting, given the circumstances.”

She tilts her head again and laughs unexpectedly.

“This,” her hands gestures in a circular motion, “does not reflect our circumstance. Who’d you pay to do it?”

“I have people. But tell me, how would the Angel decorate this space in reflection of our situation?”

She places her glass down and stares at me challengingly. It drives me crazy when she does this—test and question me.

Most girls would be drooling, probably already on their knees, thanking me for this affectionate, opulent display of flowers. Not to mention, the restaurant is five-star and has a month’s long waiting list.

But not Elsa. She must criticize me, forcing me to see another aspect or side that I didn’t notice. Or didn’t want to notice.

And this is just a goddamn dinner. Imagine a whole fucking relationship with her.

Though it’s one of main reasons how she can affect me so intensely.

She chuckles menacingly and brings her wine glass to her lips. Her eyebrows rise, and she leans back, crossing one leg over the other.

I’m surprised that dress has enough room for her to do that.

I lean forward, intrigued with what she is about to say.

“I see…brown, yellow, with tints of black and the occasional red.”

“That sounds hideous.” I grimace, unable to control my impulsive reaction.

“Well, that’s what our arrangement is…it resembles a shit show.” She smiles barely and sips her wine, feeling confident about her insult.

“Now, now. This—we—can’t be all that terrible.”

The waiter distracts us for a moment, pulling us from our conversation and placing our filets in front of us.

We cut into them in silence, exchanging a few pleasantries and compliments regarding the chef while we eat, finishing it rather quickly.

I order us another bottle, not wanting to get rid of this relaxed feeling and conversation.

We’re both finally feeling good, and the weird first-date jitters—despite this being far from our first date—has washed away.

“Tanner, I’ll admit, not everything about this is so terrible.”

I eye her up and down, concerned with what she really means by that. “Wait, are you admitting you’re wrong?”

I’m shocked. This might be a first.

She laughs loudly. “You’re funny. I’m never wrong. I’m just admitting that first impressions aren’t always indicative of the full picture.”

She moves closer to me, folding her hands on the table and straightening her shoulders—it’s Business Elsa time.

“I never trust first impressions. I only trust logic and reasoning.”

She rolls her crystal blue eyes, and a genuine smile spreads across her face, lighting it up.

I smile back, enjoying the sight. She’s pure magic.

“Not your gut? What does your gut tell you?” She says, relaxing a little.

“If I trusted my gut, my reputation as a gentleman would be tarnished.” I glare at her, then her lips, and inch my body closer to hers.

She shimmies her shoulders, and her cheeks blush.

“Gentlemanly reputation? Hardly,” she giggles and rolls her eyes yet again.

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard on it, and she swivels the red liquid around in her glass.

“If I did everything my body told me, we would be consummating our engagement on this table.”

Her smile fades, and her eyes fill with desire as she stares at me. Her lips part and her breathing shallows.

“Is that so? And how would that happen?” She asks, moving her hair to one shoulder. It’s her go to move when she is hot and bothered.

I lean closer and move our wine glasses out of the way. I reach for her hand and hold it in mine, massaging it gently with my thumb.

She stares down at my work and then looks back up at me. Almost begging me to kiss me.

“I can show you.”

Inches away, I can feel her breathe on me—it’s hot and tastes sweet.

I lean over…

“Look who it is! My favorite couple.”

Lis Langely appears out of fucking nowhere.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Elsa immediately retreats from me, taking her hand in her lap and interlocking it with the other. Now sitting straight up in her seat.

It’s as if she’s been chastised for doing something wrong.

I look at her, feeling a pinch of sadness and pain as I continue to reel from the sudden distance of our bodies.

No, Angel, everything about that was so right.

I stay as I was, leaning over the table, and turn my head towards our annoying pest.

“Ah, Lis. Can’t say it’s a pleasure.” I’m seething as I speak, and I place my hands underneath my chin, lifting it up at her.

“Now, why would the two feuding lingerie designers be together? In this luxurious and romantic spot?” She waves her hands around like a mime, gesturing towards things that make no sense.

“We’re hungry,” I say, nonchalantly.

“Are the two now lovebirds? Canoodling behind close doors? What will happen to their competing brands? Will they mesh as one and live happily-ever-after as a Pretty Little Angel or Dirty Little Vixen?” She continues to speculate, and I see Elsa cover her mouth, hushing a sudden burst of laughter.

“Clever, Lis,” she manages.

I shake my head and grab Elsa’s hand, forcing her from the table with me.

“Looks like we need to get going. Excuse us, Lis. Have fun bullshitting.” I wink at her, and maneuver Elsa and I through the crowded restaurant.

I spot our waiter on the other side of the dining room and stride towards him.

After taking care of the bill, making sure to show how much I appreciate the display and our service generously, we continue towards the exit.

“Tanner, what the hell? Where are you taking me?” Elsa demands.

I turn back to her, and grab ahold of her waist, pulling her against me.

“Follow my lead and trust me, angel.”