As she nears our table, her gaze swings from my face to the back of Ivan’s head as he stands in anticipation of her arrival.
A glance over his shoulder brings a broad smile to her face. I get nothing when she looks at me again.
“Mr. Garent,” she says his name softly. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Isabella.” He scoops her into his arms with as much enthusiasm as Fred did, but Ivan is a happily married man, so the embrace is short and sweet.
“How are you?” Her forehead furrows. “How’s Duke?”
“We’re taking it day-by-day.” He reaches for the back of the chair between us. “Have a seat.”
She takes the invitation, carefully lowering herself into the wooden chair. Ivan and I do the same. I’m not offered anything but a view of the back of her head as she shifts so she’s facing Ivan.
“Good evening, Isabella,” I finally say.
“Hi.” The word leaves her lips without a glance in my direction or even an acknowledgment that I exist.
“You look lovely.” Ivan’s gaze is glued to her. “Did you have plans tonight? We didn’t step on anyone’s toes when we asked you to meet us, did we?”
“No toes were stepped on.” She settles back in her chair, giving me a perfect view of her profile. “I met a couple of people for a drink earlier.”
“Was Max one of them?” Ivan asks casually with a small grin.
Isabella’s face lights up. “Yes. You remember him?”
That sets Ivan’s head back with a burst of laughter. “Max is unforgettable. He was the life of the holiday party last year.”
I’ve never seen the senior Garent laugh like this. Whoever the hell this Max guy is, he’s earned his way into Ivan’s good graces.
“He had the very best time at the party.” Isabella shoots me a tepid look. “He loves Duke. He asked about him earlier.”
She knows how to score points with my boss.
Ivan cups Isabella’s hand in his. “You tell Max that my boy is doing his best and thank him for his concern.”
It was my duty to ask about Duke when I met Ivan here for dinner an hour ago. I dropped that ball because I was anxious to dive into our discussion about Duke’s latest passion project. He was set to sign on the dotted line to buy a bookstore in Brooklyn.
It’s a money pit and I’m here to convince Ivan of that with hard numbers. I’ve spent the past hour doing so. He was ready to pull the plug on the deal when my assistant walked in.
During our call this afternoon, Ivan mentioned that he’d be stopping by the office tomorrow morning to see Isabella before he heads to Boston. I suggested that he save the trip by having her meet us for dessert tonight.
I thought the bookstore deal would be in the grave by the time she sat down.
“I have a question for you, Isabella,” Ivan says as if he can read my mind. “It’s about an acquisition that Duke had his eye on.”
“Hold that thought,” I chime in when I notice the waitress approach. “Let’s get Isabella a drink first.”
“What would you like?” Ivan asks politely. “If my memory serves, your drink of choice at the holiday party was white wine.”
I’d suggest a cosmopolitan, but that would raise Ivan’s eyebrow. His stance on interoffice relationships is that they shouldn’t exist. I got that lecture in Chicago during my first year with the company. I took a colleague to bed. Ivan took us both to task for it.
I may have tried to derail Isabella’s plans tonight, but that was a momentary lapse of judgment. If she wants to hop in the sack with two men, who am I to throw a roadblock in her way? Obviously, she found her way around it tonight.
“A glass of cold water would be amazing.” She glances up at the waitress, giving her a wide smile. “I ran three blocks just now, and I’m so thirsty.”
“You ran three blocks?” Ivan questions, obviously surprised.
“Max and I met a friend for a drink at this bar that Max loves.” She lets out a laugh. “Max started telling stories about when we were kids and boom, I looked at my watch and it was five minutes to eight, so I ran here.”