Chapter 6:Just Lunch
1296 Words
The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, warm, intrusive, and far too enthusiastic for how I felt. I stirred under the covers, my head foggy, but my heart strangely full.
Yesterday felt like a dream.
Marcus Russo’s restaurant. That unforgettable meal. Mason. Was that even real?
I stretched lazily, a smile tugging at my lips. Reaching for my phone, I scrolled through messages, half expecting it all to disappear like a figment of my imagination.
But then, a new message flashed across the screen.
Unknown Number:
Mason: Hey Emily, hope you’re doing great this morning?
Would you be interested in grabbing lunch with me?
Nothing fancy, just a friendly hangout.
Do tell if you’re free.
I blinked.
My heart did a quiet little somersault. I pretended not to notice. I saved his number before my brain could debate it.
It was just lunch. Nothing serious. No need to overthink it… right?
Still, I hesitated. Fingers hovered above the screen.
Accept? Decline?
Before I could decide, my phone rang.
Lisa.
I sighed and picked up. If I didn’t, she’d just keep calling.
“Hello?”
“Em!” Her voice burst through, loud and radiant. “Give me the rundown on yesterday!”
I laughed, sitting upright. “Oh, it was amazing.”
“Spill. Everything. Who did you meet?”
“Slow down,” I teased. “I met Marcus Russo.”
Lisa shrieked. “Marcus freaking Russo?! No way!”
“It was surreal,” I admitted. “I had the best meal of my life in his restaurant.”
“Wait a second.” Her tone shifted. “Who took you there?”
“Jay. Liam was there as well,” I said, leaning into the pillow. “He was his usual self, annoying and rude.”
“Ugh, men,” she huffed. “Ignore him. You’re living a dream. Focus on that.”
“I don’t know what his problem is with me,” I groaned. “From the moment he saw me, it was like I offended him personally.”
I hesitated. Then said in a rush, “I met Mason Jacobs at the studio. He just texted me, asking if I wanted to hang out. I don’t know if I should.”
Dead silence.
“You what?! Emily!” she screamed. “You’re officially the queen of casual encounters!”
“I don’t want to seem like an overexcited fangirl,” I murmured.
“Then don’t. Be yourself. You’re amazing. He texted you, remember?”
I sighed. Her words planted a seed.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You better. Call me after. I want the full tea. I’m living vicariously through you.”
Laughing, I ended the call and stared at Mason’s message again.
It didn’t seem like a big deal.
Just lunch.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed:
Me: Good morning. Lunch sounds perfect. Where are we going?
His reply was instant, like he’d been waiting.
Mason: One of my favorite places. Quiet, cozy, exclusive. You’ll love it. I’ll pick you up at 12?
Me: Alright. See you soon.
I sent him my address and jumped out of bed, suddenly wide awake.
—
I kept it simple–fitted beige T-shirt, high-waist denim jeans, and white sneakers. Just a swipe of red lipstick for confidence. Hair up in a messy bun.
At exactly noon, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up. Mason stepped out, stylish in a white shirt and dark jeans. His tousled hair looked perfectly undone. The faint scent of cedar lingered as he leaned in for a side hug.
“Emily,” he said warmly. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you. You look good, like always,” I replied, slipping into the passenger seat.
“You drive yourself?” I asked, genuinely surprised. Most celebrities his level didn’t.
He grinned. “Yeah, sometimes. Helps me clear my head.”
—
The drive was smooth, filled with light conversation and mellow music. He was easy to talk to, funny and humble. For a minute, I forgot he was famous.
The restaurant was a blend of vintage charm and modern elegance. Marble floors, ambient lighting, and black-and-white photos in sleek wood frames. Quiet. Intimate.
We were seated at a corner table by the window. The host greeted Mason like an old friend.
“You really like it here, don’t you?” I teased.
He laughed. “Guilty.”
I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich. He went for steak with roasted vegetables. A bottle of wine and sparkling water were brought to the table.
“So,” I said, sipping water. “Tell me a secret.”
He tilted his head. A smirk tugged at his lips. “I hate horror movies.”
I burst into laughter. “Seriously? The superstar’s afraid of ghosts? I feel like I should leak this to your fans.”
“Hey,” he chuckled, “I said hate. I didn’t say afraid. Huge difference.”
I was mid-laugh when I felt it.
That shift in the air.
Someone was watching me.
Mason’s gaze flickered over my shoulder. “Why is Liam Black looking at you like that?”
My stomach flipped. “What?”
He leaned back casually, sipping his water. “Over your right shoulder. Two tables down. Dark gray suit. Brooding like you ran over his dog.”
I turned slowly, subtly.
And there he was.
Liam Black.
Sitting across from a man in an expensive suit. His jaw was tight, fingers curled around an untouched drink, eyes locked on mine, sharp and unreadable.
My throat tightened.
“What’s he doing here?” I muttered.
Mason raised a brow. “Friend of yours?”
“Boss,” I said quickly, turning back to face him. “Technically.”
“Interesting.” He swirled his drink. “There’s a possessive edge to his expression. Looks territorial.”
“He’s not,” I replied, too fast.
Mason smirked. “Emily, I know that look. He’s either deeply confused or deeply annoyed. Possibly both.”
I didn’t respond. My heart thudded in my chest.
Why did it feel like I’d just been caught cheating on a test?
“Ignore him,” Mason said gently. “I happen to be the one lucky enough to have your company.”
I managed a laugh, but my palms were sweaty, and suddenly the food lost all flavor. I could still feel Liam watching me.
Mason sensed it. He effortlessly shifted the mood with a story about a wardrobe malfunction during a live performance in Canada. I laughed–genuinely, this time.
But when I stole another glance, Liam was still watching.
That expression…
Irritation? Disapproval?
Why did it matter?
When the check arrived, Mason paid without hesitation. He stood, offering me his hand.
“Shall we?”
As we passed Liam’s table, I saw the flicker of movement. He stood abruptly, startling his companion.
“Emily.”
His voice was low, deliberate–cut through the air.
Mason paused beside me.
Liam took a single step forward. “A word, please.”
I blinked. “Okay…”
He leaned in slightly. “Can you come over tomorrow? I need to speak to you.”
“Alright,” I replied, still confused.
He gave a small nod, then turned and returned to his table like nothing happened.
I stood there for a second, stunned.
That was it?
What could be so urgent it couldn’t wait, yet not urgent enough to explain?
Back in the car, I stayed quiet, my mind a swirling mess.
I couldn’t stop glancing at the restaurant in the rearview mirror.
Liam Black.
What on earth did he want?
And why was I letting him get under my skin?
- Writer
