One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 19

The limo pulls up outside of a fancy restaurant. I hold my breath, not sure what to do. I’ve never been to any place like this before. When a man opens the door for me, I step out, wearing the black dress Cindy helped me pick out. I know I look my very best. After the makeover, I’d looked in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. I think about what Jeff would say if he saw me now. He might not recognize me either.

Would Mr. Merriweather?

As I walk to the door of the most elegant restaurant I have ever been to, I think about what I will do if this is all a joke. What if I walk in, and Mr. Merriweather isn’t there? Or he says I must be mistaken, and he didn’t want to have dinner with me? I take calming breaths as the door is opened for me, and I approach the maître D. I expect him to look at me as if I do not belong here, but he smiles at me, a twinkle in his eyes, as he asks, "How may I help you, mademoiselle?"

"Hello," I say, not sure how I should respond. "I’m meeting someone. Is… Mr. Braxton Merriweather here?" Do I sound silly? Should I have asked more formally?

The man smiles at me and gestures with his arm. "Right this way, my dear."

I grasp my black bag in my hands, nervously switching it back and forth as I follow him into the beautifully decorated dining room. Lovely couples sit at tables by candlelight, eating delicacies I’ve only read about in books or seen on TV. I try to remember to pay attention to the maître D so I don’t slam into the back of him, but I am distracted.

Then, he steps aside, and I see Mr. Merriweather, and there is no one else in the room.

He stands, his eyes wide, staring at me. I have never seen a more handsome man than the one standing in front of me. His dark suit is crisp and fits him as if it were made for his body. He smiles and greets me, and I feel the red heating my cheeks. He steps in to pull the chair out for me, rather than letting the maître D get it for me, and I sit, feeling out of place but welcome at the same time. Mr. Merriweather reclaims his seat across from me and puts his napkin in his lap. Unconsciously, I do the same.

"You look incredible," he says, still smiling at me.

"Thank you," I reply. "So do you." I feel heat rush to my cheeks. This dress makes me feel so special, so beautiful. For a few moments, I start to think perhaps this isn’t a dream after all, and maybe I really am here with this sexy, kind man, and maybe he really does find me attractive.

Before either of us can say more, a waiter is there pouring wine in our glasses, and Mr. Merriweather orders an appetizer I’ve never heard of before. "Is there anything else you’d like to start with?" he asks me.

I haven’t even glanced at the menu and probably couldn’t pronounce the names of the items anyway. "No, that sounds wonderful," I say, not even sure what he’s ordered.

He grins at me. He probably knows I am nervous, but he is trying to make me feel more at home. "How was your shopping trip?"

"Wonderful." I think I might be using that word too much. "I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. You’ve been so kind to me."

He shrugs and looks away, as if it is no big deal. I know spending that kind of money isn’t a big deal to him, but it certainly is to me. "I’m glad you enjoyed your time. Cindy is quite an asset to our company--and a good friend."