“I’m allowed to call you Nate now?”
“I was being an ass.”
“You don’t say.”
He smirks, his cobalt blue eyes glittering in the subdued light. “I could use a friend at CRBI.”
“I thought the mayor was your friend.”
“He’s okay.” He sips his wine, watching me over the rim of the glass.
“What about Daniel?”
“We’re not friends.” His voice is almost a growl.
I hum, not committing to a response.
We’re polite during the first two courses. Nate observes me as I choose the proper forks. Watches me down an oyster without flinching. I wonder if that’s why he brought me here. To suss out his suspicions. Not that I expected him to point at me and shout, “I know who you really are!” dramatic-courtroom-TV style, but you never know.
Maybe he’s telling the truth about needing a friend at CRBI. He wants something from me or I wouldn’t be sitting here.
By the time the main course arrives, I’m warm from the wine and, surprisingly, enjoying his company. “You’re better on a date than you are on a job site,” I quip.
“Is this a date?” He watches me carefully and I realize I walked into a trap.
“Meeting, then?”
His turn to hum. The sound reverberates low in his throat as he cuts into his dinner and forks a bite of veal into his mouth. I follow suit and try not to look like I’m waiting on his answer. I am. On tenterhooks.
“This is more intimate than a meeting. I want something from you, Vivian.”
A flare of desire blooms in my belly. “Is it my loyalty?”
“You came to my site and threatened the one thing in this world I hold precious. My work. I can’t allow you to do that again.”
“Follow the rules and you won’t have to worry about it.” I slice another bite of veal and tear my eyes off his attractive mug. I don’t have to look at him to know he didn’t like my answer.
“I can’t allow timeline delays. There are too many people counting on me.”
“And here I thought you and your ego were the only two involved.” I send him a sly smile.
“I play well with others, Vivian. You caught me on a bad day. This is my attempt to make it up to you.” He spreads his hands to gesture at our dinner while his forearms rest on the edge of the table. “Aren’t you impressed?”
I swallow a smile before it pushes my lips to one side. “I’ve been treated to nice dinners before, Mr. Owen.”
“In gifted shoes?”
“Pretty impressed with yourself, aren’t you?”
“Generally. So are you. Admit it.” He holds my gaze for a good, long while. “I noticed your shoes. Found out your shoe size. Bought you a pair that suited you. Slipped them onto your feet. You liked every moment of it. You’re the kind of woman who appreciates a man who appreciates details.”
“I appreciate men who tell me the truth about what they really want from me.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, you want to be chased. Not presented with an offer.”
I suck in a breath and take another bite of my food. He’s right but I’ll die before I admit it. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t know who I am after all. Which makes tonight a different kind of game. One where I can be Vivian Vandemark and let this “chase” play out a bit longer. I can’t remember a time I’ve been more tempted.
“Owen Construction is a large company. Tell me about it.”
He cocks his head at this somewhat tepid turn of topic, but allows me to take us there.
“It’s a family affair,” he says, and then mentions that he and his two brothers were at his parents’ house for his mother’s birthday party last night. He doesn’t seem embittered while talking about family like I do. I’m filled with an unfamiliar emotion: jealousy. And a more recent one: loneliness.
“The Owens are incredible people,” he goes on. “They are generous. Kind. Open and loving. I couldn’t have been luckier.” He makes the emotional admission casually. I can tell he cares about them, deeply. His career revolves around honoring the family’s reputation. That’s important to him.
Our dessert plates arrive. At the offer of a cappuccino, coffee, or other after-dinner spirit, I can’t resist. “Cappuccino, please.”
Nate holds up his hand as a “no, thank you.”
“So you’re adopted,” I say after the waiter leaves.
“You didn’t do your research on the Owens before you visited Grand Marin?”
“I wasn’t given much time, seeing as how Gary was thrown out on his ass minutes prior to my assignment.”
“What about after I saved your life and you returned to the office? You didn’t research us then?”
I try to hold in a laugh and in the process emit a quiet snort. His eyebrows lift in amusement. He wants to know if I was curious about him. I was, but I didn’t satisfy my curiosity. Dig deep enough on anyone wealthy and you’ll find one common denominator. Lies.
But. I’ve been in his company for a good hour and I’m no longer sure I’d find lies. He doesn’t seem to be driven by power the way the men in my past were. I don’t know what to make of him. He’s rough, charming, attractive, surprising, superior, and kind. It’s an odd cocktail of attributes.
My father was secretive, efficient, self-serving. He supported Walt and me out of a sense of duty more than from the goodness of his heart. The optics on the Steele name and all that. A name I ran from.
I answer his question with one of my own. “Are your brothers adopted too?”
“Benji, yes. Archer, no. He’s authentic. A born-and-bred billionaire. I entered the family as a punk kid with a chip on my shoulder.”
“So, you feel less than authentic?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugs big shoulders. The suit is delicious on him. There’s no other word for it. All his brawn outlined in fine fabrics. Yum. I wonder if it took him a while to feel comfortable wearing one. As if proving my point, he tucks his finger into his collar and scratches underneath where his tie is knotted.
“What about you, Viv? Any family struggles?”
I hesitate a moment before saying, “No family. I’m an orphan.” I decided when I changed my name that’d be my story if anyone asked.
“No foster family?”
I shake my head. “I was an adult when I lost them.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t press for details.
“What do your brothers do for Owen Construction?” I ask, curious about everyone’s roles. Are they as saintly as Nate implied, or yet another family of billionaires hiding a secret that will eventually put some, or all, of them in jail?
“Benji crunches the numbers. Archer builds bars and clubs.”
“And you gravitated to live-work communities?”
Nate pulls his shoulders back. Just when I think he’s going to brush off the question, he answers so sincerely it takes my breath away. “Home is important. It provides a sense of belonging and love. At home you should be able to relax and feel safe. Something I wasn’t able to do during the years before I met Lainey and Will Owen.”
I never expected a testimony to come out of my date’s—er, Nate’s—mouth. He’s either buttering me up or telling the truth.