05

Finally, I spotted a single man sitting at a white-clothed table toward the back of the restaurant. He was tall, with short brown hair, just as Emilia had described. He stood up as I approached.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” I said.

“Not at all, Alison,” he replied, kissing me on the cheek. He leaned back to look at me, his gaze sweeping slowly over my body. “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

I smiled and sat down, noticing two glasses of red wine on the table. It was a kind gesture, even though I much preferred white wine.

Emilia had mentioned he worked in investment banking, and he looked like it, from the confident way hesat to his expensive haircut, to the silver watch that glittered on his wrist.

Cameron wore a modest watch with a worn leather band. I’d always wondered about it and considered buying him a new one for Christmas — purely as a thank you for all his hard work — but then I’d overheard him telling a coworker that it had been a gift from his uncle.

I pushed thoughts of Cameron away. “Emilia mentioned you’re in investment banking,” I said. “That must be interesting.”

“Interesting doesn’t even cover it,” Russell chuckled as he sat up straighter, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “I work with all sorts of clients. More than you can even imagine. Every day, I work and get them hundreds of thousands of dollars. It’s the most rewarding job in the world.”

He was certainly passionate. I couldn’t judge his enthusiasm because I felt the same about my own work.

He told me about the prestige of his firm, the competition among his colleagues, and that work was becoming hectic because it was approaching the end of the quarter.

I nodded, trying very hard to look as if the existence of financial quarters were new to me.

He wrapped up his recount of his latest client, then gestured at the menus. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t,” I said, taking the opportunity to lookaround. Warm lighting emitted from abstract lamps, the waiters were smartly dressed, and behind the bar was a wall of liquor bottles, glittering like magical potions.

“The food’s fantastic,” Russell said. “I’ve been here quite a few times. Can I make a few recommendations?”

“Of course,” I said. He pointed out some items on the menu. “I’d say the lamb is the best,” he finished. “Did you want anything else to drink?”

He must have noticed I’d only taken a few sips of my wine. “Tap water would be fine.”

He caught the attention of a passing waiter, and ordered, finishing with “the lamb and a glass of sparkling water for the lady.” He smiled at me.

I stared, then forced a smile. I knew perfectly well how to be charming in business situations, but tonight I felt off. Maybe it was because I wasn't negotiating a business deal. I wasn't trying to get anything out of this man.

Well. There was…stress relief. I heard the words in my friends’ laughing voices. I looked at the man sitting across from me, but before I could even start to imagine him in that sort of way, he started talking about the time he had dinner with a local politician. Then, before I could get a word in edgeways, he talked about his regular gym routine and his recent holiday to Taipei.

Why was he bragging so much? Cameron never boasted like this.

Right. Russell was bragging because he was trying toimpress me. This was a date. Impressing each other was what you were supposed to do.

Cameron never tried to impress me. But, then again, I suppose he didn’t need to.

To my relief, a waiter interrupted Russell’s monologue by bringing the meals. I had to admit that my lamb did look good — it was seasoned with salt and pepper, with pale sauce spread artfully across the plate and roasted vegetables on the side.

I took a bite and savory goodness burst across my taste buds. “Wow, that’s really good.”

“I told you,” Russell said smugly as he cut his steak. “Do you fine dine often?”

“Sometimes. I usually go to Vintello’s for business dinners.”

Russell lifted an eyebrow at me. “Business dinners. What do you do for work?”

“I have a marketing firm,” I explained. I would’ve expected Emilia to tell Russell what I did — maybe she had, and Russell had simply forgotten.

“You have a firm?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m the founder and the CEO,” I explained.

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