One Dinner One Mistake
1019 Words
Chapter 2:
One Dinner, One Mistake
Elena spent the entire next day pretending she hadn't agreed to have dinner with Roman Sterling.
It was easier said than done.
Every time she passed the executive elevator, she remembered his voice.
I'm asking Elena.
She hated how easily those words made her smile.
By six in the evening, Maya had noticed.
"You've been smiling at your phone for ten minutes."
"I'm not smiling."
"You are."
"I'm checking the schedule."
Maya leaned over her shoulder. "Your schedule doesn't have a picture of a handsome millionaire on it."
Elena quickly locked her phone.
"There is no picture."
Maya laughed. "So there is a picture."
"Go away."
"Fine. But wear something pretty tonight."
Elena looked at her uniform.
"I'm working."
"Not after your shift."
Elena shook her head. "It's just dinner."
Maya gave her a knowing look.
"That's what everyone says before it becomes complicated."
Elena ignored her.
She didn't want complicated.
She wanted one normal dinner.
One conversation.
Then she would return to her ordinary life, and Roman Sterling would eventually return to his.
At least, that was the plan.
At 8:15 p.m., Elena stepped out of the staff room wearing a simple black dress she'd bought months ago and barely used.
She felt ridiculous.
Her hands were cold.
Her heart was beating too fast.
When she reached the restaurant, she stopped.
Roman was already there.
He stood beside the window in a dark suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. When he saw her, he immediately put it away.
His eyes moved over her for a moment.
Not disrespectfully.
Just long enough to make her suddenly aware of everything.
"You look beautiful."
Elena's cheeks warmed.
"Thank you."
Roman pulled out a chair for her.
She sat.
"You look different without the hotel uniform."
"And you look less scary without all your employees standing around you."
He laughed softly.
"Do I scare you?"
"Sometimes."
"Good."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"Why good?"
"Because you don't seem scared enough."
Elena smiled.
Dinner began easily.
They talked about small things at first. The city. The hotel. Food they liked. Places they had visited.
Then Roman asked, "Why do you work here?"
Elena's smile faded slightly.
"Because I need the money."
"That's not what I meant."
She looked at him.
"I know."
She played with the edge of her napkin.
"My mother has always struggled. I wanted to help her. So I found a job."
Roman was quiet.
"You're proud of that."
"Shouldn't I be?"
"You should."
His answer came without hesitation.
Elena looked up.
There was something sincere in his expression.
"You really don't think people like me are beneath you?"
Roman frowned.
"People like you?"
"People who work for people like you."
He leaned back.
"Elena, I don't measure someone's worth by their bank account."
She studied him.
"You say that like you've had to explain it before."
"I've had to prove it before."
She didn't ask what he meant.
For the first time, she noticed something beneath Roman's confidence.
Pressure.
Something he carried quietly.
Before she could ask, his phone rang.
Roman glanced at the screen.
His entire expression changed.
"I'm sorry."
He answered.
"Speak."
He listened for several seconds.
Then his jaw tightened.
"No. Don't move anything."
Another pause.
"I'll handle it."
He ended the call.
Elena watched him.
"Business?"
"Yes."
"Bad?"
"Annoying."
She smiled.
"You always look angry when you're thinking."
"I don't."
"You do."
He leaned toward her.
"Then stop watching me."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
She looked away.
Roman smiled.
"You're blushing."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Eat your dinner."
He laughed.
And for a few minutes, the businessman disappeared.
There was only Roman.
And Elena liked that Roman far more than she wanted to admit.
After dinner, they walked onto the hotel terrace.
The city stretched beneath them, bright and restless.
Elena rested her hands against the railing.
"I've never been up here."
"Why?"
"Staff aren't supposed to use the terrace."
Roman looked at her.
"You're not working tonight."
She smiled.
"Still feels strange."
"What does?"
"Being here with you."
"Why?"
"Because you're Roman Sterling."
"And you're Elena Rose."
She laughed softly.
"That's not the same thing."
"Maybe it should be."
The wind moved through her hair.
Roman reached out instinctively, then stopped before touching her.
"Your hair."
"What?"
"It's in your face."
"Oh."
She moved it herself.
Roman's eyes remained on hers.
For one quiet moment, neither of them spoke.
He stepped closer.
Elena's heartbeat quickened.
"Roman..."
"Tell me to stop."
She looked into his eyes.
She should have.
Instead, she whispered, "I didn't say stop."
His expression softened.
He leaned closer, slowly enough for her to change her mind.
But before their lips could meet, Elena's phone rang.
She stepped back, startled.
Roman closed his eyes for a second and exhaled.
Elena looked at the screen.
Her mother's name.
She answered immediately.
"Mom?"
Her face changed.
"What happened?"
Roman noticed the fear in her eyes.
Elena listened silently.
Then she whispered, "I'm coming."
She ended the call.
Roman immediately asked, "What's wrong?"
"My mother."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. She sounded sick."
She grabbed her bag.
Roman reached for his jacket.
"I'll take you."
"No, it's okay."
"Elena."
"I said I'll manage."
He looked at her carefully.
"You don't have to manage everything alone."
She didn't answer.
She simply walked toward the elevator.
Roman followed.
The doors opened.
They stepped inside.
Elena stared at the floor, trying to control her breathing.
Then Roman quietly said, "Whatever happens tonight, call me."
She looked at him.
"Why?"
His eyes held hers.
"Because after tonight, I don't think I can pretend you're just a waitress anymore."
The elevator doors opened.
Elena stepped out.
Her heart was pounding.
She turned back.
Roman was still standing inside.
Neither of them knew that before the night ended, Elena would receive a piece of news that would make her question everything about the man she'd just almost kissed.
And when her phone rang again five minutes later, the name on the screen wasn't her mother.
It was Roman's father.
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