I ran a hand over my hair, careful not to mess it up. I wanted to look great tonight. Because I was rich, people expected me not to care as much as I do about appearances, but money was no substitute for grooming and looking good. 

“Stanley, what do you think about my outfit?” I asked my assistant, who stood near the door in my room. Stanley was an older man in his fifties, and my favorite personal assistant at home. He had great taste in décor and attire, so I always appreciated his input. 

He approached me and took a closer look at me from top to bottom. “Looks great, Conrad. Maybe you could do up that last button at the top, though?” 

He reached up toward my neck but I shook my head. 

“No, thanks. I like it like this.”

He quickly withdrew his hands. “Very well. Is there anything else you need help with before you leave?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. Talk to you later.”

Stanley left and I strolled over to my terrace door, whiskey in hand. 

I had a date tonight, and I just hoped it wouldn’t be a complete waste. While I wasn’t dying to get tied down or get married, I felt it was time for a steady relationship with a real woman. Someone different from the gold-diggers I met on an almost daily basis. 

I opened the terrace door. It was a cold December night, but being uncomfortable never bothered me. A small layer of snow crunched under my footsteps as I walked to the edge. I rested my elbows on the ledge and looked out over the snow covered trees and the twinkling lights of the mansions nearby.

A lot of my wealth was family money—I’d never lie about that—but I also managed one of the most successful hedge funds and did great for myself. 

Maybe this was a mistake. I wasn’t a fan of blind dates, but this Delilah matchmaker woman was supposed to be the best. They say her matches are magic. I had my doubts, but went with the flow. 

“Thanks, George,” I said to my driver as I stepped out of the car. “I’ll call you when I’m done.” 

“Yes, sir,” he replied, and pulled out. 

I could never get used to being called “sir”, but I guess it was a part of the package.

I rushed up the stairs and a doorman swung open the door to “Masque”, a swanky new restaurant I hadn’t tried that. 

“Welcome, Mr. Brock. Your table is right this way,” said the hostess with the tightly pulled back ponytail. All the hostesses and waitresses had the same extreme ponytail, I noticed. I should’ve been puzzled as to how she knew my name, but I was getting used to random strangers recognizing me and knowing who I am. I did appear in some of the magazines and papers after attending galas and fundraisers, so that could explain it. 

I glanced at my watch. Eight in the evening—right on time. Good. I didn’t want anyone to sit around waiting for me, especially not a woman. 

I was pleased when shown to our table. It was out of the way so people weren’t bumping into your chair, but close enough that you could people watch.

“Here are your menus, sir. Would you like to order a drink now, or wait until your company arrives?” the server asked politely.

“I’ll wait, thanks.”

“As you wish,” she replied with a smile, and promptly disappeared.

I spotted a business associate across the dining table and he tipped his head to me in greeting. That shithead. I still remembered how he tried to screw me on a deal the previous year. I smiled and nodded at him.

Something else caught my eye, and none too soon, because I didn’t want to have to make conversation with that doofus.

My gaze shifted to two figures making their way toward my table. It was the legs that caught my attention, but my heart only started pounding when her face came into focus. Well, fuck me. It was that assistant from my meeting the previous day, wasn’t it? She looked so different…so dressed up…so fucking gorgeous.

She’d spotted me too, because her blue eyes were glued to mine. Was she headed this way?

“Here’s your table. Corey will be back in a moment to take your order,” the hostess said to Isabella as she sat down across from me.

“Thank you,” the beautiful angel replied, but without taking her eyes off me.

I snapped out of my trance.

“Well, hello,” I said, trying to appear calm and collected. The dress hugged her perfectly, and she showed more cleavage today. Not that I noticed it yesterday. I wasn’t staring at her at all.

“Hi, Conrad. What a surprise!”

A surprise, indeed. After our meeting yesterday, I was afraid I might not see her again. The thought of calling her firm and getting her number had crossed my mind, but it didn’t seem like a great idea.

Her eyes were really special. They were bathed in candlelight, and I couldn’t break eye contact. They were bright, sensitive, and hinted at a naughty side. A side I definitely wanted to get to know better.

She snickered. “So, is this awkward, or what?”

I chuckled and raised a brow. “Is it?”

“Slightly, I guess.”

“Would you prefer I was someone else?”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all!” she said, and I knew I’d struck a chord.

“I know, I know.” I tried to reassure her I wasn’t offended. “Delilah wouldn’t have matched us up if it were a horrible idea.”

Her cheeks turned crimson, and it was the cutest fucking thing. Suddenly, I didn’t care about dinner at all and almost got irritated when the server interrupted us. Isabella wanted a glass of wine but didn’t know what to choose, so I ordered us a bottle to share.

We talked, and laughed, and talked. The way she absentmindedly twisted a lock of hair around her fingers and bit her lip was mesmerizing, and following the conversation was a fucking task in itself when all I wanted to do was get the hell out of there together. My stiff cock was another distraction. This girl turned me on just by being herself, and she didn’t even know it.

“Tell me, have you always wanted to be a legal assistant?”

She laughed and covered her mouth.

“God, no. I don’t think there’re any little girls out there dreaming of my job.”

“So, what is it you really want to do?” I was genuinely interested, because she seemed so different from other women I’ve met recently. She wasn’t showing off the latest designer purse, or giving out attitude. She was a real person, with real feelings and hopes. At least that’s the impression I got from our short interaction so far.

“Me? Don’t laugh, okay?”

I smirked. “I promise.”

She leaned in. “What I really want…is to open a bakery.”

I threw my hands up. “What’s so embarrassing about that? Why would I laugh? That’s a perfectly legit thing.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You think so? So many people tell me it’s a stupid idea and a waste of time.”

This sort of made my blood boil. I waved my hand to dismiss those assholes. “Ignore the jerks. Just follow what’s in here.” I pointed to my heart. “Everything else will follow. Trust me.”

“Thanks. My current job pays the bills and I get to save a bit, but it’s hardly my dream. We’ll see what the future brings, though.” She shrugged.

Damn. I wanted to kiss those shoulders and lick that neck. Her light brown waves cascaded down to below her breast, and I ached to brush them away while taking her nipple in my mouth.

I shook my head and took a sip of my wine. Slow down, cowboy.

Conversation flowed smoothly, and I laughed more during those two hours than I had in the past two weeks.

Isabella. Bella. That’s what she would be. My beauty.