“I don’t owe you an answer or anything else, because it’s none of your business. And I don’t appreciate the turn this conversation’s taking.” I didn’t like being pushed. Clive had no right to interrogate me. It was unacceptable. I took out my wallet and put two hundred dollar bills on the table. “I’m ready to say good night now.”
“Lauren, wait—” Clive said, but I was already up and halfway across the room, securing my pocketbook against me.
I waited impatiently while the hostess collected my coat. I didn’t want to give Clive the chance to get to me. His aggressiveness had taken me by surprise and had left me feeling slightly sick. I felt as if I might cry, which was a foreign and utterly repugnant sensation.
“Do you need a ride?”
I whirled to find Gabe standing at the door with his own coat on, ready to go.
“I have my driver, thanks.” The hostess handed me my coat, and I nodded at her silently.
Clive rounded the corner then. His face fell when he saw Gabe standing near me. “Lauren, they just poured us some more wine. Please, come join me.” He sounded as though he were pleading.
I shook my head. “I need to go. I’m exhausted.” I suddenly realized how true that was. This was why I didn’t go out much. The world wanted all sorts of things from me, but I could only give it my technology, on my own terms. All the maneuverings and fancy restaurants were just too much.
“Just for a minute—” Clive started, but Gabe stepped forward.
“The lady said she’s tired. She’s going home now.” Gabe towered over Clive, and I watched as the smaller man took a step back.
“I believe Lauren’s capable of speaking for herself.” Clive’s face was pinched as he regarded Gabe. Even though he was a technology nerd, Clive Warren was still a self-made billionaire, a successful entrepreneur in his own right. He was probably not used to being intimidated and literally talked down to.
I sighed. I really wanted to extricate myself from their pissing contest, and I could still feel the tears threatening. “I have been speaking for myself. You’re just not listening. Good night, gentlemen.” I headed out toward the valet, hoping my driver and my security detail would appear as soon as possible. I needed to get out of there. I tapped my foot while I waited, inwardly berating myself for accepting Clive’s invitation.
“Lauren.” Gabe came out of the restaurant. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” In the night air, I willed myself to calm down. “I just really want to go home.” My voice sounded small.
Concern marred his handsome face. “Let me take you.”
I sighed. “Even if you drive me, my driver will just follow us. It would be redundant, not to mention a waste of gas.”
“I have an electric car.” Gabe’s grin finally crept back. “So although it may be redundant for me to drive you home with your driver following behind us, it won’t be a waste of gas.”
I surprised myself by laughing and relaxed a little. Maybe this was giving in, but it felt good. “Okay. But I really do want to go straight home.”
“Of course.”
The valet brought my car first. I leaned in and explained to my driver and security detail that Gabe was driving me home, and they were to follow. Gabe’s car came next. “Such an awesome ride,” exclaimed the young valet as he hopped out of the driver’s seat and tossed the keys to Gabe. “Please let me park it for you again!”
“Deal.” Gabe smiled at him and tipped him generously. Then he opened the car door for me—it swung up and opened as if it were a wing—and I got down into the fancy, electric whatever-it-was.
Gabe slid in beside me and I turned to him. “What type of car is this?”
“A Porsche 918 Spyder. Well, it’s based on a 918 Spyder. I had it custom-made. The regular ones don’t come with doors like that.”
I looked at him skeptically as he revved the engine and pulled onto the road. “And it’s electric?”
“It’s a hybrid. I try to run it solely on electricity, though. So you needn’t worry about the gas waste.”
I sighed. “You can stop making fun of me now.”
He kept his eyes on the road but smiled. “Are you having a rough night? Clive looked like he might cry back there.”
“He didn’t like what I had to say.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Funny, he said the same thing about you.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “I’m not surprised. Why were you having dinner with him, anyway? You could have been having dinner with me. And I wouldn’t have even mentioned the pork bellies.”
I shook my head and couldn’t help it—I laughed again.
“Oh, so now pork bellies are funny? You’ve skipped out of work before ten, you went on a date, and now you’re laughing at the poor pork bellies. You’ve gone rogue, Lauren.”
My laughter subsided, and I shook my head. “I wanted to talk to Clive about his latest patent, to see if it would be something worth acquiring. It wasn’t. And he didn’t want to hear that I wasn’t interested. He didn’t seem to take it well.”
“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to hear that either.” We were quiet for a minute as Gabe drove through the hills to my home, following my directions. “Are you going to tell me no, by the way? I can take it. Unlike Clive Warren, I’m a man.”
You certainly are. I then realized I had gone rogue. Ugh. “I have to present your offer to my board. It’s worth taking to them, in any event. We’ll go from there.”
He nodded, still watching the road. “Fair enough.”
“What were you doing there tonight, anyway? Did I take you away from your date?” I was glad the car was dark because I could feel my cheeks burning.
He glanced over at me. “No. I was alone, having dinner at the bar. Typical bachelor CEO Friday night kind of thing.”
“Oh.” It was all I could think of to say. Relief flooded me when he pulled into my long driveway and my car pulled in next to us. Timmy hopped out of the passenger seat and surveyed the premises.
Gabe glanced at him. “You have security with you?”
“When I go out, yes. The board thought it was a good idea.”
“Your board has an excellent reputation for a reason. I approve.” He turned back to me. “So, tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m assuming you’re working?”
“Of course.”
“So am I. But as tomorrow night is Saturday night, and Saturday night is a night when people often venture out to get dinner, I was wondering if you’d like to do that too? With me?”
“You know I don’t do dinner.”
“Well, if you can make time for dinner with Clive Warren, you can make time for dinner with me. Plus, you said you liked going to dinner.”
“I was just trying to be polite.”
“Perfect. I’m asking you to dinner, you’re trying to be polite—it’s officially a date. I’ll pick you up at eight.” He got out of the car and opened my unusual door for me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light spilling from my house. “That should give you time to put in a solid ten hours at the office, enough to assuage your impending guilt.”