Alpha Billionaire Series
Billionaire and the Barista Chapter 18

NATHAN

The Jag purred to a stop. I tossed the keys to the valet and went inside adjusting the buttons on my suit jacket as I walked. I was glad to have my clothes back from Amsterdam. The thought of having to waste my time replaceing a good tailor and buying a wardrobe was beyond my current scope of management. There was too much going on still.

My phone buzzed and I answered it before striding in through the doors held open by a doorman.

"Mom, what is it?"

She launched into some tirade about my aunt wanting something that had belonged to my father.

"She said it belonged to her mother. And I know for a fact that it did not. Your father bought that for me when he went to Shanghai on business back when you were little. She's always coveted it. And now, to say it had been in her family for generations when it hadn't. You know I began searching through your father's records. He kept everything."- I knew too well about that; we were still sorting through documents back at the office. - "And she tells me she's going to come by and wants me to have it all packaged up. So, you know what I told her?"

There was a pause, I expected her to continue. When she didn't, I realized she expected me to respond.

What had she been saying?

"Uh-huh, and what then?" I prayed those were the right words to placate her. I hadn't been paying attention. Gabriella was due to arrive any minute, and I did not want to be on the phone with my mother when she did.

"Well, I told her that if your father had wanted her to have it, it would have been in the will, and she is just going to have to wait for probate like the rest of us before assets are distributed."

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

"How is your apartment? Did you have furniture there yet?"

"It's fine mom. I have some furniture."

"Have you eaten?"

"I'm about to have dinner with some friends. I need to go now."

"Oh, are you meeting a woman?"

"Goodbye, mother." I hung up the phone before I heard the next thing she had to say.

The Maître D' stood by with a patient look on his face, waiting for me to finish my call.

I placed my hand over my chest and adjusted my tie with a few shifts of my hand. A quick tilt of my head and my jaw and neck let go of the tension building there with a pop. "Reservation for Anderson," I said.

"Very good. Does sir wish to be seated to wait for his companion, or have a seat at the bar?"

"Bar sounds good."

I followed him into the lounge area and took a seat at the bar. I ordered a non-alcoholic mojito. When my drink arrived, I took a sip and watched the door, waiting for Gabriella.

She rushed in with a laugh and turned to look outside. It had started raining, and she had gotten caught in the downpour. The Maître D' handed her a linen napkin, and she patted her face. That dazzling smile never left her lips. Other couples came in after her with scowls and sour looks on their faces, but not her.

The Maître D' began showing her the way, but then she said something and skipped ahead of him and straight to me. She moved in perfect slow motion giving me time to take all of her in. Her beauty, her laughter, her infectious charm. Her hair was swept up showing off her graceful neck. Her eyes sparkled with gold powder. Her red dress clung to her breasts in ways that had me forgetting my name and birth date.

I stood and put my arms out and by the time she came to me, I was smiling along with her. She rested her hands on my chest, and leaned up, placing a quick kiss against my cheek.

"You're all wet," I chuckled.

"Not a drop of rain the entire ride over, and the second I get out of the car, whoosh, the sky opens up, and down it came."

"You don't need to call tonight off, do you?" I didn't know if she would want to change into something drier or not.

"I'm not that wet. And this will dry out soon enough"- she shook the skirt of her dress- "it's cotton so it will be fine." "Would you care for a drink?" I held out the neighboring tall chair for her.

She slid in and turned to face me. "Oh, I don't drink."

I looked at her through squinted eyes. "The Gabriella I used to know drank. As a matter of fact, you used to enjoy flashing that ID of yours to everyone because you were twenty-one." "True enough. But then I gave it up, for..." she paused and sighed, "reasons, and I never started back up. Booze is expensive, so are cigarettes."

"So are a lot of vices."

"Exactly. And I have to be circumspect with my spending. I let my vices do double duty. I like cake and I like frosting, and..."

"Those are business expenses."

"Exactly." I signaled the bartender, lifted my drink, and said, "She'll have the same."

The bartender slid the tallboy full of clear liquid and ice in front of Gabriella.

With a shake of her head and a sigh, she pushed the drink away. "I'm serious Nathan, I don't drink. You can't tempt me with fancy cocktails that sound like they should be at a party."

"It's a mojito, a non-alcoholic mojito. I stopped drinking as well. Maybe we still have other things in common?"

"Your table is ready if sir and madame would care to follow me." A server stood behind us, menus clutched in her arms.

Gabriella slid from her tall chair at the same time I stood. Her body pressed into mine as we collided in the same small space. I wrapped my hand around her back to steady her. I hadn't had her this close in far too long.

Her cheeks flushed and she jumped out of my grasp. "Sorry, excuse me."

She scurried after the server. I picked up her drink and followed behind. She was beautiful, and the view from the back was as glorious as the view from the front. I was exceedingly glad I didn't have to put up with her appointment nonsense because I couldn't focus on much of anything except the way her body moved as she walked.

I don't remember what we ordered. And I found the food to be more of a distraction than anything else. The way she rested her chin on her hand and looked at me as I spoke was pretty much all there was.

Unless she was eating, and then it was difficult to think as I watched her full pink mouth take in bites of food. The way the tines slid from between those lips.

My memories raced back to remembering that mouth, those lips on my body. A groan formed deep in my chest.

"Are you all, right?" she asked, concern laced her words, a furrow creased her brow.

"I'm fine." I coughed to clear my throat and hide my embarrassment. That groan had been out loud.

"You sounded like you were in pain."

The pain I was in was my damned fault.

"You were telling me about Amsterdam," she prompted a return to our conversation.

"I used to think St. Louis was an old city, had that old feel to it. But when you get to Europe, it's profoundly different. They have buildings there that were constructed while we still had pilgrims arriving in boats. And the building my apartment was in had originally been built in the early seventeen hundreds. Back then St. Louis wasn't much more than a wide spot in the river for fur traders."

"Probably not even that. I don't remember, maybe? It's been a while since I took State history in high school. And I probably didn't pay much attention to it anyway."

A server appeared and our plates were whisked away. Then the one who had seated us, and taken our order returned. "Would you care for dessert this evening?" Gabriella's eyes went wide. "Yes, please."

She accepted the dessert menu and had ordered a Turkish Delight cupcake, and a slice of cheesecake before I had even finished looking at the options.

"I'll have the chocolate cheesecake," I said, handing the menu back. "Two desserts?"

"The cupcake is a professional curiosity. I've had a few customers tell me I should try to get a contract with a fancy restaurant. I'd love to expand the bakery portion of the business, but the coffee, it's my bread and butter as it were. I lure them in with the promise of coffee, and up-sell the cupcakes."

"I've seen you at work. You don't up-sell anything. Your cupcakes sell themselves."

Her eyes sparkled when the waiter delivered the desserts. Gabriella made harrumphing noises; she plucked the square of candy from the top of the frosting and set it aside. "That's cheating."

"How so?"

"Plucking a piece of Turkish Delight in the frosting and then calling it a Turkish Delight cupcake is cheating." She cut into the bakery item without ceremony, spreading the cake apart and poking at it with a fork.

"I would have expected to see jellied candies on the inside. These pink areas might have been, but"- she slid a bite into her mouth and shook her head- "there is no flavor signature. And the cake is dry."

She swapped plates so the cheesecake was in front of her, the cupcake destroyed and forgotten."

"May I?" I poised my fork over the decimated cupcake.

"Have at it."

She was right, it was dry and flavorless compared to anything she sold in her shop.