I stare into the mirror, my reflection mocking me.
My hair is in long waves and half of it is pinned up, while the rest of the shorter pieces, frame my face in a simple, sexy delicate, way.
I chose a black dress with a low back line. The hem of the dress sits at my lower thigh, a few inches above the knee.
I paired the dress with some pretty, red, coloured pumps. They go with the dress nicely and surprisingly feel really good on my feet.
On make up I had decided on a simple semi natural look, but with a dark smoky eye and lipstick to match my shoes.
He just wants to talk.
I try comforting myself, still watching my every move in the mirror.
What if it's not just to "talk."
Stop that. Brooke. You will be fine. He just wants to talk, and have dinner.
It's all good.
Feeling satisfied with my appearance, and with a burst of confidence I make my way downstairs.
His driver should be here in about five minutes and if there's a few things I know about that man, it that;
1. He is never late, or early. He's always on time.
2. He hates to be kept waiting.
While I wait, I slip everything I might need into a small bag. Lipstick, chewing gum, debit card, and a small hand held mirror.
Distracted I glance at the picture on the small hallway table.
It's a picture of Chase and I. One of my favourites actually. The picture takes place on my seventeenth birthday, he's holding me firmly on his shoulders and I'm leaning over, upside down kissing him so my hair covers his face.
I'm holding a drink and half of it spills while the pictures being taken. I remember laughing with him for hours about it.
It was a great night, he had surprised me with a party after ignoring me all day. I thought he'd forgotten, and when I ended up blind folded and dragged me to my place where he had organized the best birthday bash I could have ever wanted, I almost cried.
I smile at the memory, my heart aching.
Things were suppose to be different.
A quick knock at the door startles me out of my agonizing, never ending thoughts.
I hurriedly tug at the ends of my dress before opening the door.
Its Show time.
Just Breathe.
Outside sits a jet black, shiny limo with a driver in front.
The man who knocked on my door also opens the car door and beckons me in.
I thank him quietly while seating myself on part of the plush leather seats. We wait for him to do the same, then we are off.
The awkward silence is overwhelming so I try to nonchalantly look around.
Then it hits me. I've never showed Dean where I live, or told him.
How did he know where to pick me up?
"Excuse me.. Erm sir, but how on earth did Mr. Hayes know where I lived?"
The man shifts uncomfortably under my questioning gaze.
"Im not allowed to give out information ms. Brooke, but let's just say there's a lot of things Mr. Hayes knows.
Also you can call me Cambril, there's no need for such formality."
I nod, Processing it.
"You can call me Brooke, there's no need for so much formality Cambril."
He chuckles at my sass.
"no wonder he's chosen you."
Chosen me?
"May I at least know where we are going for dinner?"
If I'm not allowed to know anything else, I should at least be able to know where I'm being taken for dinner.
"Mr. Hayes has reserved your dinner at the 'le bouchon' I hope that will be okay with you."
Yikes. That is one classy, fancy assy restaurant.
"um, yes it's fine!" I manage to choke out. I have a feeling Cambil notices my nervousness because he adds quickly.
"Don't worry, It will be fine. The boss only bites on Tuesdays."
He winks mischievously and the butterflies slowly start to disappear one by one.
The ride becomes less awkward as I get to know Cambil. He's been working with Dean ever since Mr. Hayes was a small baby, and with all the years added, it would be about 30 years now in total. According to Cambil, Dean's father Alexander Hayes, hired him to watch over Dean until he was ready to take over his fathers business.
Since Dean is now at the age, Cambil might be retiring sooner then he thought.
The vehicle rolls to a stop and the little butterflies return.
Cambil opens the door, gently taking my hand and leading me inside the tall building.
We get inside and I gasp.
The building is lit in candles and soft music flows from the grande piano that sits, centre of the room. Open Balcony's, and people sit overhead.
Fountains with gushing water stand tall, made of marble in the corners of the room. Chandeliers hang from the tall ceilings, it's glow shimmering in the fountain waters.
The whole place is beautiful.
Cambil gently leads me by the elbow upstairs to a secluded table with a great view of the city. The sun is setting over the tall buildings and the clouds are pink and fluffy looking.
He pulls our a chair and motions for me to sit.
"Mr. Hayes will be here in no longer than 5 minutes. Enjoy your evening Brooke. I'll have the limo come to take you home, unless Dean would rather himself."
I nod with a smile.
I'm left by myself and I still stare in awe of the veiw, and the restaurant.
The table is set beautifully with napkins, sparkling cutlery, wine glasses, a bottle of red and white, champagne, candles that let off a soft glow, and rose petals placed delicately around the table.
A few minutes later a waiter comes out bringing a basket of warm fluffy rolls.
I'm still wondering why I'm here when a familiar smell catches my attention.
Dean's cologne.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." His smooth, deep voice is almost mesmerizing and I have to control the swirl of emotions swirling through my head.
He seats himself, opening a menu.
" have you decided on what you'll be having?"
I absentmindedly shake my head no.
The whole menu is written in French so I have no idea what any if it means.
"I'm just going to cut the bullshit. Mr. Hayes, why am I here?"
He runs a hand along the bottom of his chin, like he's in deep thought.
"Call me Dean, Brooke. Straight to the point kind of a woman. I like that, I respect that. I promise I'll explain, but let's order and have dinner first, okay?"
By now I'm feeling uneasy. I nod nevertheless curious about whatever it is he needs to explain.
We sit quietly making small talk until the same waiter comes and takes our orders. Having only absentmindedly flipped through the book, I ramble off the name of a fancy looking pasta dish.
The waiter writes down my order and listens intently while Dean makes his.
Shortly after he leaves gathering the menus between his hands.
"I'm so sorry to have called you out, especially on your Christmas break. I hope you didn't have anything scheduled for tonight." He apologizes quietly. It really sounds genuine and I can't help, but smile.
"Don't worry, all the hubbub happened yesterday night."
He leans forward, clearly interested.
"Do you and your family celebrate Christmas together?"
I nod. Unsure if I should go on, but he gestures me to keep talking.
"My mom invites everyone she knows. You could have met once in the meat section of a No Frills and she will invite you. She cooks and cooks and after dinner we all get wasted. Then in the morning, we have a huge brunch."
"So you all get... Wasted?"
"Yep. Don't even ask how that tradition started. No one really knows."
He chuckles, but I remain serious.
How is this funny.
"And your boyfriend... Does he go to these extravagant get-togethers?"
Pursing my lips together I mutter, " he would... If I had a boyfriend."
"Pardon?"
"Mr. Hay-"
He interrupts quickly, "call me Dean!"
"I meant to say Dean, that I'm currently single."
I make sure to put extra emphasis on his name and I notice the corner of his mouth fold into a tight lipped smirk.
He picks up the dessert menu.
"Good."
Sitting confused at what he means by good, I'm soon snapped out of my trance as the waiter brings out our dishes.
"Here we go mademoiselle." The attractive waiter sets the plate in from of me with a wink. Blushing furiously I look away.
He then sets Dean's pasta down.
"Will you two be needing anything else?"
"We will be fine. Have the bill charged to my tab." I flinch at the sudden coldness of his voice towards our server. He glares at the waiter, his eyes filled with hate.
Either the waiter doesn't notice or he just doesn't care. He nods polity at Dean, and sends another million dollar smile my way.
" I will leave you two then."
He saunters off and I raise a questioning gaze towards the man sitting across from me.
"Do you mind telling me what that was about?"
He angrily bites pasta from his fork, his eyes meeting mine, flashing red.
"Just never mind."
I'm not about to let his rude behaviour drop.
"No. I want to know!" I put down my own fork. "You were being rude for no reason."
Without saying anything he stands up, grabbing me firmly by the arm he pulls me out of my seat towards the elevator.
His grip is painful and I wince.
"You're hurting me!"
He pushes us into elevator 4 and closes the door. He hurriedly punched the button labeled parking and slams me against the wall.
His grip on my wrists tighten and I shiver at how close he is to me.
His is waist pressed agains mine, and his face millimetres from my own.
"He was flirting with you. Eyeing you like a dog would at raw meat, and Brooke....." He trails off staring at my lips lustfully. "I really don't like that."
Without further word he smashes his lips against mine and without thinking I kiss him back. Our tongues dancing together to creat a synchronized movement.
His lips are delicious and warm, tasting of spices, and home made pasta. Releasing my wrists he trials his hands up my torso, and pulls me even closer by the waist.
I pull at the ends of his dark, curly hair, while he slowly bites my lip.
Moaning, I run my hands up and down his firm chest. Our hands are everywhere, we touch each other passionately. The electricity flexing between us multiplies as our kisses deepens.
Everywhere he puts his fingers I feel a burning sensation and I can't help, but want more.
The elevator door dings. Pulling us apart.
Panting I stare at my boss eyes widening.
"Dean... Why did you take me for dinner tonight? Just so you could get laid?"
I ask him, smoothing down my rumpled dress, as we step out into the underground parking garage.
"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have let my actions get the best of me.
To be quite honest though, damn! You're a good kisser."
I flush looking away from my smirking boss.
Stopping in from of him I stare into his emerald eyes.
"Out with it."
He looks around cautiously and lowers his voice.
"Brooke will you marry me?"
