That was the most I would get from him on the subject since he believed two words was a sufficient answer. “Are you bringing anyone with you tomorrow?” Maybe that woman was more than a fling, but I doubted it.
“My driver is taking me.”
“I mean, are you bringing a date?”
He turned back to me as if he didn’t understand the question for a few seconds. “No.”
“Is there anything you need for tomorrow?” I made sure his suit was crisp, and I also did my best so he had a good speech and he didn’t walk up there and look like a jerk. He was a billionaire who could take care of himself, but I worried about him like a child sometimes.
“No.” His short responses weren’t indicative of his mood, so it was hard to figure out if he was in the mood to talk or if he just wanted me to leave. Whenever his son was mentioned, he seemed to be most open, but he was getting better at it with other topics.
“Are you excited? Nervous?”
He closed his laptop, even though I wouldn’t understand anything on it anyway. “I don’t really care about these things, honestly.” He grabbed his wineglass and took a drink.
Whenever I watched him drink, he usually had a heavy beer. This was the first time I’d seen him drink something else. I pulled out the chair and took a seat, because it seemed appropriate. “Why?”
“I don’t do it for the awards.”
“What about your Nobel Prize?”
He stilled slightly, his muscular body flinching at the comment. He swirled his glass before setting it on the table. “I thought you didn’t Google your clients?”
I shrugged. “My curiosity got the best of me.”
With his back against the chair, he stared at me, his head turned my way, his muscular arms stretched out in front of him.
“That must have meant something to you, right?”
He nodded. “Of course. But these other ones…” He shook his head. “Waste of time.”
“I think you should be proud of every single one.” He was one of the few men in the world fueled by science and compassion, who was interested in helping people, and his wealth was just a byproduct of that.
He shrugged. “I hate social things.”
No surprise there.
“I have to sit through dinner at a table with other people, and I’m not looking forward to that.”
“You won’t know anyone there?”
“Acquaintances,” he said vaguely.
“Well, try to ask a couple questions. Because when you ask them something, they aren’t asking you something. So, they’re doing all the talking.”
He nodded slightly, like he agreed with the advice.
“And people love to talk about themselves. Present company excluded…” It was obvious he was a confident man who had no doubts about his abilities, but he didn’t care about his stature or reputation. He just cared about getting the job done—so he had no ego. And ego was the biggest deterrent to people. Instead of having a personal conversation, he’d rather discuss his work, but since most people weren’t equipped to understand anything he was saying, he couldn’t discuss the one thing he actually wanted to.
He grabbed his glass and took a drink.
“I could come with you…if you’d like.”
He licked his lips before he set the glass down, his jawline highlighted by the stubble of dark hair. He only shaved every few days, not caring about the shadow that marked his face. Luckily for him, the look was appealing. Hair or no hair, he always looked good. He turned back to me, as if it took him some time to understand what I said. “You would do that?”
He really had no idea what lengths I’d go to to help my clients. “Of course. Or you could take your brother…or a woman you’re seeing. It might be easier to have someone with you, so you could talk to them or let them do all the talking.”
“My brother isn’t in the city,” he said quietly. “And I’m not seeing anyone.”
So, the blonde was just a fling.
“Well, I’m here if you need me.”
“You don’t have plans?”
I never had plans. I was always working. “No.”
“Alright.”
I took that as an invitation. “I’ll meet you here.”
He opened his laptop again.
“Is there anything I can do before I go?”
He stared at the computer as if he wasn’t listening to me. “No.”
“Alright.” I got to my feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His fingers hit the keys, and he started to type.
I glanced at him one more time before I walked out.
When I reached his apartment, I was in my purple dress, which had one strap and a bow. It was tight on my body, subtle, but also not plain. I had a couple dresses for these sorts of occasions, using the corporate account to cover work expenses like this. I wasn’t going to drop fifteen hundred dollars on a dress like this myself.