Page 50 of The CEO Enemy
Connor leans in with a grin. “Told ya, job done.”
We leave swiftly during the break, with warm goodbyes from Daniela and Jasmine, and my hand firmly around Sean’s arm.
“Christ alive! Life’s too short for these borin’ charity auctions, isn’t it? You’d have more craic at a funeral,” Connor teases with a knowing grin, patting Sean’s shoulder as we walk past him. “Enjoy the evenin’, you two.” Connor leans into Sean, lowering his voice conspiratorially—but just enough for me to hear. “Word to the wise, lad. Keep this one. She’s good for ya.”
I’m filled with pure joy.
I’ve made the right decision.
As we ride the elevator down to the parking garage, Sean shoots me a triumphant smile. It’s one of those smiles that steals your breath, and for a moment, I find myself almost needing to gulp, struck by the sheer beauty of it. Everything went off without a hitch.
Yes, his smile is triumphant, but oh, boy, so is mine.
“Thank you for doing that.” I beam at him, unable to hide my joy. “Our lobby will look spectacular.”
“It’s a good investment, I’m sure. And now, for the fun part of the evening. Are you hungry? Dinner’s waiting.”
I stare at him. “Dinner? As in a business dinner?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not a corporate dinner. I want you to come to dinner—with me.”
I lean against the shiny elevator wall. “You know, it’s common courtesy to ask if a woman wants to join you for dinner…” I raise my hand to playfully poke his chest. “…instead of assuming she will.”
He catches my hand in the middle of the movement, wraps my fingers in his and kisses my fingertips before he lets go. “Are you saying you don’t want to go?”
My heart flutters, and I try to act nonchalantly while grabbing onto my purse. “I’m not saying that at all. Dinner sounds great.”
I believe I have gotten to know Sean pretty well over the last two weeks, and he’s a straightforward kind of guy. Chances are if he really needed to talk to me about business, he would just do it. It’s one of the things I have come to expect, which is why our “faking an engagement” has been hard for me to process.
But is this a casual dinner or a date? That’s the three-million-dollar question. Not that it makes a difference—or concerns me.
It’s a date, I decide.
A fake one, of course, but still, a date is a date. Or is it real?
I mean, he bought a three-million-dollar art piece because of me. I’m aware he didn’t buy it for me, it’s for our lobby. But it still counts.
Sean Blackwood, the most irritable, utterly commanding, supremely authoritative, yet undeniably most eligible billionaire bachelor in NYC is out on a legit frickin’ date. And who’s the one he managed to rope into joining him? Yours truly!
How fortunate he is. Ha!
“So, where are we going for dinner?” I ask, once I’m seated in his luxury Mercedes, fastening my seatbelt. Nervous excitement flutters in my belly. Taking a first date with a guy I’ve been fake-engaged to should be a walk in the park. Yet here I am, proving that even a seasoned faker can’t dodge the fluttering nerves.
“We’re going to one of my favorite little Mexican restaurants,” he says. “I don’t go nearly as often as I’d like, but when I was first starting out, it was where I would treat myself.”
He’s taking me somewhere that’s important to him. Oh, if that doesn’t tug at my heartstrings and make my stomach burst with butterflies. I honestly half-expected him to take me to the bar again or some super-duper fancy place that matches his expensive taste. But this? This is better.
“Mexican sounds perfect,” I say, giving him a warm smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had good Mexican food.”
“Then prepare yourself, because Montaña serves authentic Mexican cuisine.”
“Hey, I’m sure it’s better than the last time I had Mexican food.”
“Where was that?”
“It was at Taco Bell.”
Sean laughs, a sound I hear so rarely, but when I do, it instantly makes me happy. His gaze travels across my body as he watches me laugh too.