The least, maybe, but certainly not the most. And if I can persuade her to spend more time with me, I know I can inch my way towards persuading her that she should be mine. That she is mine. She just hasn’t realized it yet.
And what else could I possibly aim for but that?
The idea of preserving my friendship with Joe, of being respectful and keeping my distance, is out the window already. But if it wasn’t, it would be going that way the moment that she nods and agrees to have dinner with me. Because now there’s not a single thing in the world that could make me hold back from chasing her.
I take my phone out of my pocket and step back a little. “I just have to make a quick call,” I tell her, grinning. “Then we can go.”
I dial a familiar number, that of my assistant, Carlos. He answers the call in just a couple of rings and I turn away from Ashley as I talk, just in case she can understand more of my words than she lets on.
“Hola, Carlos?” I say, switching into Spanish. “I need you to cancel tonight’s dinner.”
“What? But – it’s only an hour away!” Carlos replies, sounding horrified.
“I know, I know. But I need you to do this.”
“I’ll call the restaurant first. They might not want to accommodate a quick booking in the future if we cancel like this…”
“No, no,” I interrupt, glancing back at where Ashley is waiting for me. She’s wandered over to sit on a bench, leaning back to rest as she admires the nearest stall from her vantage point. “Keep the booking. Just cancel my guests.”
“You’re taking someone else to dinner?” Carlos guesses. Even though he’s right, he sounds shocked. I don’t blame him. I’ve never done something like this before. Blowing off a work engagement for a girl – I must be starting to lose my mind.
“Tell them I had a family crisis,” I say, and my mind works fast. “In fact, tell everyone I had a family crisis. Cancel everything for the next couple of days.”
“Two days?” Carlos explodes. I can see him in my mind staring at my digital calendar in despair. Yes, it will push back a lot of meetings. But if I don’t cancel them, I can’t spend the next few days with Ashley. She’s only here for a week. Desperate times call for extreme measures.
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s not long enough. Make it a week. Push everything back to next Monday and beyond.”
“But…”
I can hear the dread in Carlos’s voice. He has a big job to do, making my schedule work with all of these interruptions, fitting in all of these people to new time slots. But I know he’s a very capable assistant, and I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think he was capable of managing something like this. “I believe in you,” I tell him, with a grin that I’m sure he can hear in my voice. “You’ll figure it out.”
“But, Boss… you don’t even have a family.”
“Yes,” I tell him, stealing another glance at Ashley and feeling my desire growl in my belly like a lion. “That’s the crisis.”
I hang up without giving him any further explanation.
“Come, then,” I say, holding out my hand to Ashley. She gets up on her own, but I consider it a win that she gets up to follow me; taking my hand can come later. “We have a little time before the reservation. We can take a slow stroll through the city until we get there. What do you think?”
“It sounds great,” Ashley grins, and I lead her through the streets of the city I love, watching how neatly she fits into this picture. Like a postcard.
We talk and walk our way from La Rambla to a more far-flung district, popular only with locals and not with the tourists, who largely have no idea it exists. Even so, we’re early for our reservation, but given that I have cut the dining party from four to two, they are able to accommodate us anyway. I see the maître d’ giving an annoyed look to his booking schedule and slip him a folded bill for his troubles; he seems to brighten up. I don’t think I’ve destroyed my privileges here, yet.
I usher Ashley forward to walk between the rows of tables, slim enough space to afford just one person to walk in single file at a time. This way, I get to admire the sway of her ass from side to side as she walks. I also get to see the way people glance up at her as she passes, and I catch more than one look of admiration from the men at the tables near the walkway.
The waiter leads us to a table up near the bar, not my usual spot; I suppose I gave that away by making so many changes. I don’t mind if it means I still get to show her my favorite restaurant. The chef is very temperamental, and the atmosphere is definitely reserved for those with more money in their wallets, but for all that I still think the food is the best. Normally I steer towards the more traditional, but there can be moments when high dining wins the trophy.