Heather rolls her eyes with a tired laugh. “Oh my god, Emma, that’s—” She pauses, blinking at the ceiling like she’s processing the reality of it. “That’s actually amazing. One step closer.”
“Yeah, and I guess I’m supposed to wear a blue dress and red lipstick,” I shrug. “So he knows I’m the one he’s meeting.”
“That’s interesting,” Micah huffs, rubbing a palm down his face. “These rich weirdos, man.”
I snort. “I don’t even know his name.”
Heather scrunches her nose. “You don’t?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Rook didn’t say.”
Micah exhales. “It’s probably like that for a reason.”
My hand flies to my sternum, the anxiety creeping in again like it always does when something feels like too big a deal.
Heather notices immediately. She scoots closer to where I’m sitting on the edge of their bed and wraps her arms around me. “Hey,” she says, her voice teasing but soft. “Don’t panic. This is just…you know…epic bad boy territory.”
I blink, then laugh. Her sarcasm is exactly what I need right now. It’s always been my lifeline when I was drowning in stress. I pull back from her, and my smile stays.
“Okay, so I need to go buy this stuff for our dinner meeting tonight,” I say, trying to sound casual.
Heather grins. “I willgladlygo with you. Micah can buy me something pretty. You know, I love Gucci.”
Micah snorts. “Whatever you want, blondie.”
Heather points a finger at him. “You’re the goodest boy, Meekah.”
I roll my eyes.
Micah pulls me into a hug, and I rest my head against his shoulder. “Okay,” he says quietly. “If this guy is as scary as Rook says, then he’s probably not easy to reach. That means he’s valuable. That means he’s not just…some guy. He’s a top dog over here, I’m sure.”
My heart beats a little faster, but it’s not the panic this time. It’s hope and fear, because I’m terrified, honestly. “Yeah, I got that.”
“I’m serious, Emma,” he says, pulling away from me, his hands cupping my face. “Remember why you’re there and what you want. Sometimes, these kinds of men are a little intimidating, and it gets you off track. Trust me.”
I nod. “I’ve got it, Micah. For Jude, I have no other choice.”
Micah pulls up to the curb, and the restaurant looms in front of me.Wow. Yeah, I have never beenanywherelike this before. Glass walls rise several stories high. The fall sky is already darkening, the air cold enough to nip at my legs as I step out of the rental.
The blue dress clings exactly the way Heather wanted it to. She said that rich men love dresses that make you seem like a“bad bitch.”I certainly don’t feel like that, though. It ends just above my knees, and I resist the urge to tug it down. My hair is twisted up in a gold clip, neat but with a few strands framing my face. My lips are very red.
Like Rook told me.
Micah leans over from the driver’s seat. “We’ll park down the street,” he says quietly. “Text if you need us.”
I nod, my throat already tight. Heather gives me a wide-eyed look from the passenger seat and blows me a kiss.
I shut the door before I can talk myself out of this. The restaurant doors glide open silently, warm air welcoming me. Inside, it’s exquisite. Polished wood, low lighting, expensive minimalism. Conversations are quiet but most certainly important. Every person in here looks like they own something or someone. Well, I’m definitely in the right place.
I swallow and step forward.
The hostess greets me with a professional smile. “Good evening. Reservation?”
My brain blanks. “No,” I say quickly, then recover. “Just—um. A table. Somewhere private?”
She studies me for half a second longer than necessary. She can definitely tell that I don’t belong here. Then she nods, leading me toward the back. “Of course.” My legs are shaking like a baby deer’s, but I keep my shoulders back and my chin up.
The booth is discreetly tucked into a far corner. Perfect for conversations that aren’t meant to be overheard. I can’t imagine whoever I’m meeting would want to be overheard, anyway.