I’ve held many business meetings at restaurants or bars just like this one. The back booth in the Madison Hotel bar is perfect for this meeting. I don’t usually like it, but it does have advantages. It makes it easier to slip out and leave the company with a round of drinks on me. But tonight I chose this bar hoping to see my Rose again. And she didn’t disappoint.
I noticed her the second she walked in. There’s an air around her that commands my attention. Stevens was in the middle of a counterpoint on international resources when she walked through the open doors and walked to the same seat she was in before, directly across from the booth I chose.
I’ve barely listened to a word from Trent or Stevens. The meeting’s done as far as I’m concerned. We’re not pushing it through until we meet agreeable terms. Stevens can insist that the cut in costs makes it worth it, but I know better. It’s best not to cut corners, especially when quality and timing are concerned.
Her shapely legs are crossed and it pulls her black skirt up a little farther. She's wearing a loose slightly see-through blouse and even with the dim lighting in the room, I can easily make out her curves. Her tall heels hook onto the leg of the barstool and she sighs heavily before leaning her forearms against the bar and waiting patiently for the bartender.
She came in alone and I can’t help but wonder why. My heart slows as I watch her baby blues skim the bar. She’s not looking for anyone in particular. She brushes her hair out of her face and leans in slightly to order a drink. I can’t hear her, not with all the other noise in this place, but her lips mesmerize me. They’re a darker shade of red tonight than I’ve seen on her before. The deep red makes her beautiful eyes shine brighter, but that look is still there though. That sadness that’s haunting her. I don’t know what’s causing it, but I want to find out.
“Are you going to drink that or not, Parker?” Stevens asks me from across the booth, bringing my attention back to him.
“Not,” I answer and push the cold glass with the back of my hand toward Trent.
I stand tall with my shoulders squared, ready to make a move on Rose. I may appear confident, but my nerves are getting the best of me. She could say no; she may not be interested in me in the least. Or worse, she may be taken already, though my research on her didn’t turn up any partners. But I’m not going to take no for an answer.
Nothing extreme, I'm just going to offer to buy her a drink. She can’t deny me such a small request. I slip off my jacket and loosen my tie.
Trent eyes me suspiciously. “Where are you headed?” he asks with a bit of suspicion in his voice. I never stay for drinks, and I never stay for anything other than business. As my right-hand man, he knows my habits.
Stevens looks past me and right at Rose. His thin lips pull into a smirk and then wider as he realizes my intentions.
“You’ve got a date, haven’t you?” he says, raising his glass of scotch. The ice clinks as Trent leans forward and looks past me to look at Rose as well.
I stand for a moment and let a waitress pass. She gives me a heated look and blushes as she walks by. I keep my eyes straight ahead on my prize and undo the top button of my dress shirt. I don’t get nervous about first impressions. I have no one to impress. My track record and bank account are enough to give me a presence in the boardroom.
“A date?” Trent asks with disbelief and then shakes his head. “She has a date, but it’s not with Logan.” He sits back in the booth, causing the slight shifting of the black leather seat, content with the fact that Stevens must be wrong. It’s irritating that he’s so sure she’s not waiting for me. It shouldn’t be annoyed since I shouldn’t even be pursuing her, and he knows that. Still, it pisses me off. Maybe more so because she isn’t waiting for me. He brings his jack and coke to his mouth as I turn to face my Rose.
And some fucker who’s pawing at her.
Anger rises slowly inside me. Anger and jealousy. It’s not a good look and I don’t let it show, but it’s there. It's heating my blood and forcing my limbs to move. His hands are on her as though she belongs to him.
My anger is relieved slightly when I take in her body language. She’s not interested. She tries to push him away, but it’s not happening. And that’s my cue.
I leave, not bothering to look back at either of them. I know they’re going to be watching; I don’t give a damn what they think.
It only takes six long strides, turning my body ever so slightly between two small tables, until I’m beside her.
I lean forward, laying my jacket down and bracing my hand on the bar between my Rose and this fucker.