Chapter 13: My Former Fiancée

It is eight o’clock when Rosalie enters the private dining room in Riverton Arts Center’s East Wing.

Henry told her seven. She arrived an hour late on purpose.

Adrian has gone to absurd lengths to make her come to him. Showing up early would give him far too much satisfaction.

By eight, dinner should be ending. She can collect the approval and leave.

A server opens the door.

The room is not what Rosalie expects.

Nearly every seat is occupied. Adrian sits at the head, the chair to his right conspicuously empty. Water, wine, and business folders cover the table.

There is no food.

Conversation fades as Rosalie steps inside. Everyone looks at her.

Henry rises. “Mira, over here.”

The server has already pulled out the empty chair beside Adrian.

Rosalie sits and places her clutch at her side. Before she can mention the venue approval, Adrian tells the server, “You can serve dinner now.”

The doors open again, and the waiting staff enters.

Rosalie lifts her water but forgets to drink.

Now she understands the looks.

Everyone has been sitting hungry for an hour because Adrian refused to begin without her.

She turns slowly toward him.

Adrian unfolds his napkin as if nothing unusual has happened. “Are you hungry?”

She lowers her voice. “You made an entire table wait for me?”

“They need something from me.”

“So?”

“Waiting was their choice.” His eyes settle on hers. “I was waiting for you.”

Rosalie nearly laughs from sheer irritation. “You always have an excuse.”

“Arguing on an empty stomach is bad for you.” He straightens the silverware in front of her. “Eat first. I ordered your favorites.”

“I came for the load-in approval.”

“It’s ready.”

She holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

“After dinner.”

Rosalie glares at him. With a dozen people listening, she cannot make a scene.

The first dishes arrive: clam chowder, roasted vegetables, shell-on prawns, a whole herb-roasted sea bass, and lobster with browned butter.

The rich scent reaches Rosalie, and her stomach betrays her with a quiet growl.

Adrian hears it. He is kind enough not to smile.

Instead, he serves a piece from the upper fillet of the sea bass, checks it carefully for bones, and places it on her plate.

“Try it.”

Rosalie looks down.

Five years later, he still remembers that she dislikes the softer meat near the belly and prefers the firmer flesh along the back.

She tastes it despite herself.

The fish is buttery and bright with lemon, but the herb sauce is what makes her pause.

She knows that flavor.

Back in college, Adrian put nearly everything he earned back into his company.

Yet when his first real payment arrived, he took her to a famous seafood restaurant downtown.

The bill upset her all the way back to campus.

At her dorm, Adrian finally understood.

He laughed, smoothed her hair, and said, “Seeing you happy is worth it. When I make real money, I’ll bring you whenever you want.”

Eventually, he did.

That restaurant became one of their places.

Rosalie takes another bite. “Didn’t it close?”

“Two years ago.”

“Then this sauce…”

“I hired the chef for the Aster when the restaurant shut down. He came here tonight to cook.”

Adrian says it casually as he cracks a lobster claw.

Rosalie watches his hands.

He seems to be telling her something without saying it: the restaurant may be gone, but he kept the part she loved.

He places the lobster meat on her plate, then starts on another piece.

“You look tired. Have you been working too much?”

“How thoughtful of you.” Her smile carries no warmth. “Especially after you created more work for me.”

Adrian, wisely, keeps his attention on the lobster.

Rosalie extends her hand again. “If you admit it, give me the approval.”

“After you eat.”

They speak quietly, but no one at the table misses a word.

The dinner follows negotiations on Mercer Group’s New Jersey life sciences campus.

Henry and Riverton’s venue director joined to resolve the fashion show dispute. Everyone came with an agenda.

From the moment Rosalie walked in, none of those agendas seemed important.

Across the table, Natalie Grant watches Adrian remove bones from Rosalie’s fish.

Natalie already knows.

Her brother, Lucas, rarely discusses Adrian’s private life, but once admitted Adrian had never gotten over one woman.

Natalie pieced together the rest.

The afternoon negotiations had gone badly. Grant Holdings wants a larger stake in the campus venture, and Adrian has refused to move.

Now Natalie sees another possible route.

She lifts her wineglass. “Mr. Mercer, are you going to introduce us to your guest?”

Adrian looks up from the tender meat he is removing near the fish’s cheek.

He knows perfectly well that Natalie recognizes Rosalie—and why she wants him to say it aloud.

He is in a good enough mood to indulge her.

“Rosalie Hayes,” he says. “Senior jewelry designer at TÉRA.”

The introduction is impeccably professional. Rosalie gives the table a polite smile.

Natalie continues waiting.

Adrian places the fish on Rosalie’s plate before adding, with perfect calm, “And my former fiancée.”

The room falls silent.

Rosalie turns sharply toward him.

He has told the truth.

That makes it impossible to correct him without explaining far more than she intends.

Natalie raises her glass. “That explains it. You make a beautiful couple.”

Rosalie does not move.

Adrian lifts his own glass toward Natalie. “I’ll take that as a good omen.”

He takes a measured sip, sets it down, and goes back to removing bones from Rosalie’s fish.

Natalie smiles into her wine.

Whether Adrian gives Grant Holdings what it wants tonight no longer matters.

She knows exactly where to apply pressure next.