Chapter Fourteen
1244 Words
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m sorry,” said Adalia, pressing the receiver to her ear and breathing lightly. She didn’t want to let on how freaked out she was.
She’d been too harsh the day before, probably because she was jealous of his success on some level. Jealousy was never constructive, anyway.
“That’s okay.” Trent coughed away from the phone then cleared his throat. “I understand you’re going through a tough time. Sorry if I came on too strong.”
“No, that’s all right. I was a b***h on wheels yesterday.” Adalia smiled in spite of the situation. She shifted around on her sofa, unable to banish the flash to Trent on top of her. It made her squirm.
“Look, I’ve gotta run. I’ll catch up with you later.”
The phone line went dead, and Adalia sighed softly. That was it. Trent was definitely finished with her, and that was the way it was supposed to be. She didn’t really have time for complications.
She swept a tear from under her eyelid and flicked it away.
Maybe if she tried social media marketing, or printed out some flyers, things would pick up. She rose from the sofa and strolled to the kitchen, then took out a wine glass and a bottle of red from the cupboard.
She poured it and took a sip, then settled back into place in front of her laptop. She passed a half hour creating an account for the bakery on Twitter. She probably should’ve put one up before, but she hadn’t had the time.
There was a knock at the door.
Adalia frowned, set the wine glass down and went to answer it. This had better not be DeShawn.
She opened up and gasped.
“Would you care to accompany me to dinner?” Trent stood before her in a tailored suit with a cheesy grin and a bouquet of red roses.
She took them, blinking and pressing down the sudden excitement bouncing around in her stomach.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“I had to come. I wanted us to have a real talk, not one where either of us is stressed out.” Trent glanced at the keys on the wall beside the door.
“I – I think that’s a good idea. Just give me a minute to put these in water.” She was overwhelmed, caught off guard, and that deep need for him was back in the center of her chest, just beside her heart.
Adalia fumbled the roses into a vase with water and positioned it carefully on the kitchen counter. He didn’t creep up behind her and pin her to it for a change, but stood patiently at the door.
Trent held it open for her, then closed it and checked it was locked, before escorting her down to his waiting Audi. He opened the door and she slid into the passenger seat then buckled herself in.
They rode in total silence, sparks flying between them. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his strong hands on the wheel, from the power he possessed when he changed gears and took corners.
He gave the keys to the valet with a wink and helped her out of the car. He didn’t let anyone touch her, open the door. He didn’t let them near and she loved it.
They were seated in the low lit room, with a candle flickering on the table between them. Trent shifted it aside and took hold of her hand with a smile that melted her to the core.
There were happy couples dining around them, beside the round tables with pristine white table cloths and flawless silverware atop them.
“I’m glad we’ll get this chance to talk.”
“Could you have chosen a more romantic restaurant?” Adalia bit her lip.
He chuckled at her. “I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been dying to get you alone and have a real talk.”
“We’ve had real talks.”
“No, we’ve had real fights. There’s a difference.” He picked up a champagne flute and she clinked hers against it. They both drank the contents down in one go, nervous or just in need of a buzz to smooth the evening’s flow.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Adalia prompted, placing the glass to her left and stroking his thumb with hers. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted him to feel the passion she held in her heart.
And it was all for him.
It didn’t matter what had happened in the past, or the problems she had at that very minute, the only thing which mattered was them. This moment, this feeling. It was everything to her, and she had to have it be everything to him.
“Adalia, I can’t stop thinking of you. You’re consuming my every thought. It’s kinda making it difficult to work,” he joked, but she didn’t laugh.
Emotion sat in the center of her forehead, and she gazed into his soul. Needing the truth. Please, God, let this man want her. Let him truly need her the way she desired him.
“I...” She trailed off and blew out a breath.
“Come on. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you or trick you, because the only thing I want is your happiness. And mine, too, of course. I’d love it if they coincided.”
“I can’t stop thinking of you either. Sitting on that sofa is torture.”
Trent grasped her other hand, threw back his head and gave a laugh of the purest delight.
“I’m glad that you’re in the same boat as me, at least in one way.”
“What do you mean?”
Trent grew serious, releasing her and smoothing the table cloth, brow creasing. Forks and knives scratched on plates in the background, and the low chatter of the other diners punctuated his silence.
“You need financial help for your business and I can provide it.”
“I told you I don’t take handouts,” she said, anger building in place of the comfortable buzz of the champagne and the soft glow of his affection.
“I understand that, but something you said alarmed me.”
Adalia swallowed hard. She had to calm down. She couldn’t ruin this moment with him over her pride and need for independence. “What was it?”
Trent smoothed the cloth again, then picked up his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. He was never this self-conscious. “I never had a handout in life. I worked for everything I have.”
Music played alongside his words. Hozier, something soulful and bluesy, and it suited the ambience perfectly. She swayed in time to it in spite of the gravity of the situation. “What?”
“I worked for my money. I didn’t get anything from my parents. I started out with a business plan and a loan. I worked at Starbucks at the time, and I didn’t want to be a loser anymore. I saw there was a future for what I wanted to do.”
“Did you have a college degree?”
“Yeah, but I had a student loan to pay off and I had it nearly done from working as one of those damn baristas.”
Adalia clenched her jaw against the flush of embarrassment. She was worse than DeShawn. She’d made a spot judgement about him and rolled with it, not bothering to check if she had it right or not.
It was despicable.
“I’m so sor –”
“Mr. Dawson,” a woman spoke up, “fancy meeting you here.” Michelle Van Heerden strolled up to their table with a muscled young man in tow. She ignored her date and placed her manicured nails on the back of Trent’s neck.
He frowned up at her. “I thought I told you to work on that proposal tonight. What are you doing here?” But he didn’t shrug off her touch.
“Just taking a break, sir.” the skinny assistant replied, then flashed a triumphant look at Adalia.
- Writer
