From the expression on her face, he was sure it wasn’t going well. Whatever it was that she saw in Martina, his words had cut deep.
“Okay,” she said finally, averting her eyes from his. “What time and where?”
“Seven o’clock. Meet me at Wilfordshire.”
That name should have rung a bell, but it seemed as though she wasn’t acquainted with it. He was expecting a shocked expression, or an audible gasp. Most women would have reacted that way, but she didn’t. There was nothing.
“Great. Thanks, Elijah.”
“I’ll see you there.”
He left her desk as she kept her eyes lowered and returned to her work. Obviously, she wasn’t impressed by what he’d said. Anyone else would have known what Wilfordshire was. It was famous in New York City as a Three Micheline Star restaurant. It was possible that she’d never heard of it because she ran with a different circle in the big city, but that shouldn’t have mattered. Everyone knew about it.
Whatever it was, he’d just have to figure it out tonight. And try not to think about dessert at the end of the meeting.
Chapter Six
Aubrey
She closed the door to the Uber behind her and stepped out into the early summer evening. There was a slight chill in the air as she brought her leather jacket closer to her chest. She wasn’t sure if she’d dressed appropriately for such a restaurant, but she was hoping she’d blend in enough so as not to attract attention. The kind of people who frequented the Wilfordshire was far above her in terms of what kind of money they made. Wilfordshire was far more expensive than any meal she could afford, and she was sure her wardrobe followed suit. There was nothing she hated more than getting negative attention, though, so she was anxious.
She adjusted her floral summer dress and paced towards the door. She smiled at the doorman as he opened the old wooden door for her and held it for her to pass through. She’d seen pictures of the inside of the restaurant, but it was even classier than she’d expected. It had a huge open concept dining room and low hanging lights that gave off a warm ambiance. The walls were all oak panels painted a light grey, alongside a black floor. This was a far nicer restaurant than any she had ever been to.
The hostess at the front podium smiled at her as she entered. She was wearing a stereotypical waitress outfit, all black with white detailing, and her hair pulled back in a tight bun. “Hi, there. Welcome to Wilfordshire. Do you have a reservation?”
Aubrey’s mouth became dry as she peered about the room. She didn’t see him. Her attention fixed on the hostess as she brought her jacket even closer to her chest. She wanted to run. “I’m actually meeting someone here.”
“May I have their name, please?”
“Um...it’s Elijah Johnson.”
The hostess gave her a disbelieving look and pursed her lips. “Elijah Johnson? I’m sorry. He didn’t make a reservation this evening.”
“What? But he should have. He told me to meet him here at seven.”
“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“I know I’m not. I work with him.”
The hostess shook her head. “I’m sorry, but without a proper reservation or him here to confirm such a thing, there’s nothing I can do.”
Aubrey sighed and dropped her hands from clutching her jacket. She should’ve expected this. It was clear the woman didn’t believe her, and there was a good chance she might think Aubrey was lying. She couldn’t even fathom why the woman thought she was lying about meeting Elijah Johnson. It wasn’t like he was a famous actor. He was, in some ways, a kind of celebrity, but not necessarily a household name.
“Please call ahead next time.”
Aubrey heard the door open behind her, and it distracted her from wanting to tell the hostess off. She was only doing her job, and there was no sense in getting angry. Aubrey’s frustration should be directed at the real culprit, Elijah Johnson.
“Hi,” she heard behind her, and she froze. “Sorry I’m late. Had a call.”
She turned her head to see Elijah step forward, smiling at the hostess. He’d walked up so casually, she couldn’t help but wonder if he owned the restaurant.
The hostess was taken aback and returned a cordial smile. “Hi, Mr. Johnson. We weren’t expecting you.”
“Yes, well, last-minute dinner,” he said, and lowered his gaze to Aubrey. “Didn’t have too much trouble, did you?”
Not knowing what to say, she shook her head in reply. She had been fully expecting him to bail.
“Would you like me to bring you to your usual table, Mr. Johnson?”
“Yes, please. Is it available this evening?”
The hostess grabbed two menus from the podium in front of her and stepped out from behind it. “Of course. There were no reservations for that table this evening,” she said and gave Aubrey a strange look. “Follow me, please.”
Aubrey gave the hostess a sideways glance as she led the way, unsure how to feel. It was strange how Elijah could have her change her attitude so quickly, especially when she was moments away from kicking Aubrey out. She was surprised when they passed through a door and came into their own separate room, similar to the dining room but with a view of a garden outside massive windows.
The smell of the food around them was intoxicating. She grew hungrier with each step, and couldn’t wait to try the food. It was likely that it would be one of the best meals she’d ever have the opportunity to eat. Her stomach grumbled at the thought. Elijah walked past her around the table and pulled out a chair for her. Aubrey couldn’t help but feel awkward and glanced quickly at the hostess who seemed to enjoy hovering around them.
She placed their menus in front of them when they were both seated. “Your waitress will be here in a moment.”
“Thank you,” Elijah said to the hostess and then turned his attention to Aubrey. “Would you like some wine tonight?”
“Sure, I guess,” Aubrey said as she pulled off her leather jacket. “I prefer red wine.”
“Please bring us a bottle of merlot. Whichever one is fine.”
“Sure thing. I’ll have your waitress bring that for you.”
The hostess smiled and closed the door as she left. Aubrey brought her gaze to the window outside and noticed that in the midst of the garden was an illuminated fountain. She thought she could hear the running water, even over the classical music playing lightly within the room.
“What do you think of this place?”
“Huh? Oh,” she said, realizing she was entrapped in the view. “It’s nice. Very fancy, even more than I thought. The girl was about to kick me out before you showed up.”
“They do that here. They’re so busy that you need reservations. I’ve heard they’re booked for months in advance.”
Aubrey didn’t understand why he’d try to talk the place up, but she couldn’t help but feel as though he was trying to impress her. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Three Michelin Stars will do that to a restaurant, I guess.”
She could have easily asked him why and how he’d managed to get a private room without a reservation, but she knew she didn’t need to. He was a Johnson. They’d get in on their name alone.