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“I don’t know, Gabi.”
“We’ve never had an issue with getting caught before, all you have to do is tell me what I need to know to get through the morning, and then we’ll meet down at that little café on Main at lunch, and switch back. If this meeting is supposed to last most of the morning, and all I have to do is sit there, it’s not like I’ll mess it up,” Gabi adds as I’m wavering. “I promise, I’ll even wear your dowdiest outfit and screw my hair up on top of my head if you want.”
Five more minutes of her pleading has me caving, no matter how bad of a feeling I have about all of this. Hopefully Mr. Wilmont will be too focused on the meeting to notice anything amiss.
I still toss and turn the entire night, trying to get rid of the anxiousness flowing through me. Nothing helped stem it last night. Not my favorite meal, another glass of wine, a soak in the tub…nothing.
It leave me with hints of purple underneath my eyes in the morning, and I cover them as best as I can after getting Gabi ready to be me for the day. The only thing I couldn’t convince her to not wear was the insane lingerie she insisted upon. That’s where seventy percent of her paychecks go to, and I’ll admit, she looked gorgeous in it, but it’s certainly not what I’d have worn under the black skirt and blazer set, not even with the red blouse.
You’d never catch me in garters. When I wear stockings they’re thigh-highs made to stay put without the need for a garter. Nope, I’d wear my cute and comfy set that I’m wearing now. It has pink hearts all over it in deference to being Valentine’s Day. Not that I have someone to spend it with. Hell, the last date I had was back in high school.
It didn’t go well, not when he made a snide remark about what I was wearing then asked why I didn’t dress more like Gabi. It became quite clear to me that he wanted to go out with Gabi and not me, so I ended it after barely fifteen minutes.
Since then, I’ve stuck to school and work—and taking care of Gabi. Which is why I put on the least revealing of her work outfits, a little black dress that ends well above the knees, but thankfully isn’t a micro-mini, and has lacy cap sleeves. I pair it with my hot pink mid-length peacoat because I’m not walking out without one, and the only ones that Gabi owns are meant for clubbing.
With the coat on no one looks at me oddly, which is good since it’s not even nine-thirty on a weekday morning. The downfall to Valentine’s Day being on a weekday rather than the weekend is definitely the number of gifts that are delivered to work, seeing how many people have someone that loves them when all I have is my sister to keep in line.
I have no idea where I’m going, but my jaw drops slightly when the address Gabi gave me ends up being a huge mansion and not an office building. My stomach twists when someone opens the cab door, and I curse under my breath for not having Gabi show me a photo or at least describe the man I’m supposed to be apologizing to for her.
I don’t say a word when I’m out of the car, the elderly man looking me up and down for a moment before speaking. “You must be Miss Scott, Mr. Prince is expecting you.”
I simply nod, thankful I didn’t speak sooner and draw attention to the fact that I had no clue if he was or wasn’t Mr. Prince. Not to mention if he’d given my sister that snooty look, she’d have let him have it, and that wouldn’t have gone over well at all, considering what I’m here to do as her.
The man leads me into the huge entry area, and holy crap, if I wasn’t here to apologize for Gabi and get out before anyonerealizes I’m not her, I’d be dying for a tour. It’s easily one of the oldest homes in the city—has to be because these bricks and stones are real, not just some façade. I so should have looked up whoever this Mr. Prince is last night. I just wasn’t expecting someone from old money to be Chef Tyler’s investor.
It doesn’t really make sense to me. I’ve met plenty over the years working with Oliver and there’s one thing I know—they like to keep their money to themselves. Unless it’s a guarantee to recoup every penny they invest and then earn handsomely on top of it, they wouldn’t do it, and a restaurant is definitely not something most would gamble on.
I take a quick pursual of the spaces we pass, wishing I could lounge in some of the comfier looking areas rather than heading further down a hallway to what I’m guessing is a home office. The door that the man opens after a perfunctory knock reveals exactly that, and I swallow a choked gasp spying the man inside the space. Holy hell. I knew my sister had strange tastes, in pretty much everything including men, but to think this one needs to pay to get women to go out with him? I think she needs her eyes checked pronto.
Even if he is an absolute ass, he’s a damn gorgeous one, and women likely could ignore what he says if he uses that mouth well enough.
“Thank you Albert,” the man says, giving him a polite nod before his eyes flow over to me, and shit, his eyes are a gorgeous sea blue with the darkest lashes ever. My hands start to sweat as the other man motions me into the room, and I’m thankful that I chose a pair of my own shoes, rather than my sister’s stilettos as I slip inside, my knees weak for some unknown reason. The wedges give me more stability than those towering little spikes ever might.
“Mr. Prince,” I say once the door behind me is shut, forcing a bit more air out of my lungs to not sound so breathy.
“Yes, Miss Scott?” he replies when I stop.
“I would like to apologize for what was said yesterday,” I begin, hoping to get this done and over with even faster now that I’ve seen the man in the flesh. Put me in a business setting with a hot man and I’m fine, but this? Oh no, this is so far beyond my comfort zone it’s not funny. If it weren’t for Gabi, I’d so be out of here. “I was having a bad day and let it come out in an unprofessional way.”
“Is that so?” he states, stopping my brain from forming the rest of the rehearsed apology.
“Sorry?” slips out of my mouth unexpectedly and a hint of a smirk settles onto his lips as his eyes slide up and down me.
“You were having a bad day, you said,” he offers me, his tone sounding immensely suspicious, as though he knows it’s all a lie.
Holy crap are parts of my body so much wetter than they should be, especially hearing that slightly amused, suspicious tone. I swallow the extra saliva, wishing the rest was so easily ignored and nod. “Yes, personal issues with men that I took out on your unnecessarily. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”
“Tell me about these…personal issues,” he states, and I have to hold back a moan.
I need to get the hell out of here already. “They’re personal, not something I’d discuss with a near stranger, Mr. Prince.”
“Surely we’re not that near strangers, not since you seemed to be so at ease discussing what you assumed to be regarding my personal life. I hardly think such formality is necessary between us now, Gabriela.”
The use of my sister’s name shocks me out of the slight haze his mere tone wrapped around me, and I straighten my back, taking a deep breath and try to get out of this once more. “I am sorry, Mr. Prince. Your point is valid, we don’t know each other, and I shouldn’t have made any comments regarding you, and I assure you, I won’t ever again.”
“Your apology would sound far more truthful if you used my given name rather than my surname, Gabriela. So please, try that again,” he states, a glint in his eyes and I curse silently, racking my brain trying to recall if my sister told me what it was. “Well?”
“Mr. Prince…” My words fall away fast as he closes the space between us, and I have to crane my head back to see his face as tall as he is. He towers over me, even with the wedges I’m still barely five-seven, and my head barely reaches the top of his shoulders. He has to be taller than my boss, Oliver, and he’s six-three. Mr. Prince has to have him beat by a couple inches at least.
