My stomach does a flip at the sound of the words more private. I can’t deny that Olivier is very attractive. He’s tall, with broad shoulders, blue eyes and light brown hair. Even though nothing else about him is my type, I can’t help my body’s inner dance of joy over a hot guy asking me to go somewhere more private.
Aiden and I were together for almost four years and had been engaged for more than a year when I found out he’d been cheating on me. It didn’t just hurt, it also made me question my judgment. How could I have thought everything was just fine when he was sleeping with someone else, and even taking her out on dates sometimes?
I never want to get blindsided like that again. So no matter how hot Olivier is, I’m not letting on that I notice. Twitter will move on from #Olidaph.
“This is my office,” I say, leading Olivier into the small room.
“Wow,” he says as he steps inside.
“I know, it’s not much.”
“No, I meant…I like it.”
I lower my brows, doubt laced through each word as I say, “You like my office.”
Like the waiting room, my office has peeling, damaged linoleum, which I’ve mostly covered with a bright blue rug. My desk is small and simple. One wall of the room has a bookcase stuffed with books and potted plants. The others have colorful framed paintings of people I admire and their words. Olivier scans pictures of Maya Angelou, Alice Nkom and John Lewis and a smile slowly spreads over his face.
“I like it a lot,” he says, gesturing at the folding chair in front of my desk. “Can we sit for a minute?”
I hesitate a moment before saying, “Sure.”
Olivier unbuttons his suit coat and sits down.
“You seem skeptical of me, Daphne,” he says, meeting my eyes.
“I’m not skeptical of you, it’s more…confused, I guess.”
He reaches into an inner pocket of his coat and takes out an envelope, passing it across my desk to me.
“I wanted to make a donation to Safe Harbor.”
I cringe. Of course I had to be an asshole to him out in the lobby when he came here to make a donation. I peek in the envelope, see a check for $25,000, and cringe again.
“That’s so generous of you,” I say, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
“You don’t look pleased.”
I smile. “I am. Thank you. I just wish I hadn’t been so prickly out in the lobby.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle as Olivier smiles back at me. “Don’t worry about it. I think maybe we’re both just strong-willed.”
“Is that a nice way of saying we’re stubborn and difficult?”
He shrugs. “I know I can be at times.”
I don’t know why him admitting that is so sexy, but it is. I’m still used to Aiden, who wouldn’t admit he was wrong even when he was caught red-handed. He blamed his cheating on me working too much and losing interest in sex.
“I suppose I can be a little bit stubborn,” I admit. “On occasion.”
Olivier holds my gaze, and the silence between us isn’t awkward. I can tell he wants to say something, so I wait. The last thing I want to do is tell him I need to get going and have him pull another envelope out of his pocket.
“Can I take you out for dinner sometime?” he asks.
“Me?” My lips part with surprise.
“You.”
“But why?”
He gives me a wry grin. “Because I like you.”
I look down at my desk, trying to figure out what to say. And of course, what I say ends up sounding awkward.
“Is this about the hashtag?”
“No. I honestly don’t like all this attention any more than you do.”
“But if we…I mean, they’d go nuts if we were seen going out for dinner together.”
He shrugs. “I have good security. I’ll make sure we have privacy.”
I think I’d like to get to know Olivier better. Obviously, he’s nice and beyond worthy of any woman’s attention. But I can’t bring myself to say yes. I’m still finding my way after the breakup with Aiden and the accident. And Olivier is a billionaire. He had no trouble chatting it up with my parents about the stock market and interest rates. His world is the one I’m trying to get further away from, not deeper into.
“I’m flattered, but I have to decline,” I say, my heart hammering.
His expression stays neutral as he nods.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, standing up. “It’s just that you’re…anyway, it doesn’t matter. I need to go.”
“Am I too old for you?”
“No!” I feel my cheeks warming. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
I lock eyes with him and admit the truth. “You’re too rich.”
He lowers his brows, genuinely confused. “I’m too…rich?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s just not me. My grandmother is hardly leaving me anything in her will because she’s worried I’ll just give it all to charity. And she’s right.”