AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Checking the street before entering, I didn’t see Evan, although I did spot three guys across the street having a very animated discussion while pointing at each other’s cameras—and not budget cameras, but the kind you hunted big game with, sporting monster lenses.
It was an odd place for photographers’ convention, but who was I to judge? I palmed my phone, double checking the time. Since Evan wasn’t here waiting, I pulled up the text message string just in case.
Evan: DiMaggio’s at six for pizza and beer. Look forward to seeing you there.
ME: Lunch not dinner.
EVAN: Five is the earliest I can make it.
ME: It has to be lunch.
EVAN: Are you really going to pass up seven figures over the distinction? You can order off the lunch menu if you like.
ME: Five will be fine.
EVAN: See you there.
His mention of a million dollars had changed my mind. I’d never managed even one tenth of that before, and it would make a world of difference to Chelsea and the fund. I’d do anything to secure a gift of that size.
I pulled open the heavy door and passed into the darkened interior of the restaurant. I hadn’t looked up the place before arriving, and now I realized that was a mistake. Based on the name and Evan’s pizza-and-beer comment, I’d expected a Yankees-themed sports bar.
This was definitely not like my local haunt, O’Malley’s. They displayed the menu on the wall behind the cash register. Instead of TV screens in the corners with games playing and people shouting, this place had artwork on dark-paneled walls lined with booths and patrons having hushed conversations in suits instead of Yankees jerseys.
After my eyes adjusted, I surveyed the room but still didn’t see Evan. I steeled myself for judgment from the maître d’ behind the podium. This place had a friggin’ maître d’, in a black tux with a red bowtie, no less.
I didn’t know the dress code, but judging by the other guests, I didn’t measure up in my tank top over jeans.
His eyes narrowed as I approached. “Madam, I’m sorry, we don’t allow…” His words were formal as he pointed at my ripped jeans, but the derision was clear. I was about to be bounced.
“Do you have a reservation under McAllister?” I blurted. I wasn’t letting this pompous ass get between me and a chance at a seven-figure commitment.
Evan’s family name did the trick, and his scowl immediately brightened to a smile. He didn’t even check his reservation book. “Yes, madam. Just one moment.” He raised his hand, and a gray-haired waiter in a black vest appeared out of thin air. He pointed at a chart on his podium. “Jerome, the lady will be joining Mr. McAllister.”
Apparently because I was joining a billionaire, I was a lady, whereas a minute ago I’d been trailer trash about to be shown the door.
Jerome smiled pleasantly and pulled a menu from the stack. “Madam, if you’ll follow me, please.” His walk was thankfully sedate.
I followed him through tables to the staircase on the far wall.
A fair number of guests we passed gave me a look. The men checked me out, and the women were judgmental. I smiled back politely. Screw them if they didn’t like me disgracing their restaurant in cheap Target jeans.
My heart raced as we started up the stairs. I was a tasty little fish, going to meet the shark of Wall Street.
At the door, I straightened up and composed myself as Jerome knocked once. A gold plaque labeled this theChardonnay Room.
It was make or break for the single biggest donation we’d ever received for our charity. All I had to do was keep it together, be professional, and tolerate some McAllister snobbery. I reminded myself that this size gift for the children was worth any amount of misery I might have to endure.
After a moment, Jerome opened the door. “Mr. McAllister, your party has arrived.” With a flourish he waved me inside.
Oil paintings of seascapes hung on the dark-paneled walls, each illuminated by its own light. A window overlooked the street.
Evan rose from his chair at the circular table set for two in the center of the room. “I thought you might prefer privacy.” He rounded the table, but instead of extending his hand to me, pulled out the chair opposite his.
“The man has manners,” I quipped as I slid down into seat and lowered my handbag to the floor.
Jerome stood aside.
“Manners enough to not respond to that,” Evan said quietly from behind me.
