Gray and Green // Michael Gray

Dinner Reservations

James opened my door for me, allowing me to get out without my shoes getting mud on them. These red bottoms really did cost a fortune.

The sky was dark and the sun was starting to set. You could really see it through all the smoke, but who even cares about the beauty of things anymore?

James walked behind me to the boy who was waiting for me. Michael stood there with his suit fitted nicely and his hair slicked back.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I forgot the way." I said as I approached him. He looked down at my feet, then made eye contact with me. His lips slightly curled up.

"I just got here, Ms. Green. I'm sure they have a table for us," he turned to walk forward, while I lightly held his forearm as a gentleman offered.

We sat down at the table across from each other. His hands were slightly shaking as he moved the silverware to his liking. He was nervous.

"Is this the first time you've been asked to dinner by a woman?" I asked with a soft smile. He looked up at me and froze.

"It's the first time I've been to dinner with a woman without anyone else around, you know, my family." He said, I nodded.

He sipped the water lightly and leaned back in his chair, finally relaxing.

"You're French but in England, how does that work?" He asked. My eyes widened a little bit at his question.

"I left France when I was 15. I had finally gotten enough money and power to start over in England." I told him, looking down then making eye contact with him. He nodded. He didn't really know how to talk.

"What exactly do you do?" He asked, his hands clammy. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"Now I observe. I used to do most of the work myself. Turns out when you have money, people want it." I sipped the water.

"I thought you said you didn't deal in money," Michael retorted. I raised my eyebrows.

"Are you a spy, Mr. Gray?" I asked. He froze up slightly.

"No. Why would you ask that?" He sounded offended.

"You are questioning me over and over again. What should I infer?" I asked as the waiter brought us the food we ordered. He got some Italian food and I got a salad. I didn't feel like making a mess in front of him.

"Alright," he sat back in his chair. "How old are you? You seem young to be where you are." He smirked. "Or you just age beautifully,"

I smiled, the compliment was flattering.

"I'm 23. I'm flattered." I told him. He smiled and looked down.

The classical music was faintly playing in the background as we ate. It was nice. I didn't particularly enjoy eating in front of people, but whatever. I owned half this goddamn country for god sakes.

James was standing on the balcony above me having a cup of coffee by himself. Another guard was at each entrance of the building. How nice. I've always had excellent security.

The music got louder, making the crowd get quieter. Michael looked behind him towards the couples dancing, but quickly turned around and wiped his mouth. He was debating whether or not to ask me to dance. He decided against it.

"Would you like to dance, Mr. Gray?" I asked, smiling as I stood up and looked at him.

"I don't think we're sitting high enough to be able to dance." He said, looking up at me.

"Oh they should. I own the place." I grabbed his hand, making him get up in a hurry and walk down with me. He placed his hand on the bottom of my back, a little more improper than most men. Who could I blame? I was enjoying it.

"Do you know how to dance, Mr. Gray?" I asked as we reached the floor, folding his hand in mine. He smirked.

"I do." He pulled me closer to him so we were inches apart from each other as our feet moved in unison.

"Please call me Michael." He said after a few minutes, loosening his grip on my hand and replacing it on my waist.

"Would you like to see eachother again?" I asked, he smiled.

"You make it sound like a bad thing." He told me. I rolled my eyes with a grin.

The music stopped and he held my waist as we walked to the exit. His hand never left the small of my back once we walked out the door. It was relatively cold, but nothing I couldn't handle.

"Where do you stay?" Michael asked me, looking down at me. The height difference wasn't much. He was so close he had to look down.

"Two blocks west from here." I replied, grabbing my arms in an attempt to warm me up. It didn't work. It also made Michael smile.

"Here," he took off his overcoat and threw it around my shoulders.

"Oh I couldn't," I attempted to move it off. He stopped

"I have another coat on. Keep it. You're cold." He said as he began walking west. "Are you coming or not?"