CHAPTER 28—XAVIER POV

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Leroy throws a pen at my head.

"Thinking about who?" I asked, even though I already knew who he was talking about.

"That chick with the curly hair, who you kissed in your office." He smirked.

"I'm not thinking about her," I clarified.

"I'm in the same boat as you, man." He scratches his neck awkwardly. "Can't stop thinking about mine either."

"Let's try and focus on the work then," I said, changing the topic.

We were going through the plan to boost profits, since now I knew why the sales were dropping. I had to make sure that as soon as Kings Corp. is back into my hands, completely, it was back to being the best.

After a few minutes I see Leroy chewing the end of his pen nervously.

"What's the matter, Leroy?" I asked.

"Nothing." He brushed me off. "Carry on."

"There's no point in me saying anything if you're not going to comprehend it. Do you want to tell me what's happened, or can you actually listen?" I demanded.

"I've been with Jodie for a month now, and I don't know what to do," he said. "Is it like an anniversary?"

I tried hard to control my laughter. "You guys aren't in middle school anymore. There're no one month celebrations."

"Are you sure?" He double-checked.

"I mean, just mention it, but you guys don't need to get presents or anything," I advised him.

I decide to end the meeting there since Leroy was too preoccupied with his own life to focus.

As I'm signing out of my computer my phone begins to ring, making my glass desk shake slightly with its vibrations.

A smile erupts on my face when I read the name on my phone.

"Good evening, Miss Davis," I greeted her.

She replied, "How can I help you? Do you want to meet me?"

"I must say," I teased, "I'm quite offended at the way you use me."

"Actually, I was wondering if you want to meet for dinner?" she breathed out.

Is she nervous?

My smile turns into a smirk when I realized I'm the one making her nervous.

I didn't want to push it further, so I just said yes. I knew if I made fun of her for asking, she would probably just not meet me at all.

"7 o'clock at the Italian place by my office?"

"I'll see you there," I said and hung up the call.

It felt nice to know that she wanted to genuinely see me, not just for sex—that she wanted to spend time with me and enjoy my company.

I had an hour before I had to see her. I rushed home and took a quick shower, changing into a navy blue suit and wearing a pale blue tie.

After popping a mint into my mouth, I get back into my car. The drive was quick, and I parked in front of the restaurant.

It was different to what I expected—more cosy and mellow than expensive and organized. I didn't mind it at all, but I didn't think it was something she would choose.

I go inside and see that she's not here yet, so I sit on a kind of secluded table by a window.

Seconds after I sat down, I heard the bell at the door ring again as she walked in. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled softly before telling a waiter that she was with me.

She's just left her office, I can tell, but she looks gorgeous. A nude dress hugs her body but the black blazer on top of it makes her look professional and put together.

"Hey.” She smiles as she sits opposite me.

"How was your day?" I asked awkwardly. Why do I suddenly not know what to say?

"Bittersweet. Spent about 10 million dollars in investments—hopefully they end up being worth it." She sighs as she opens the menus.

We silently scan the menus, before a waitress comes asking for our orders.

"Seafood ravioli please," Amelia said politely.

"I'll have the beef lasagne."

She takes our orders and walks away.

"What made you ask me on a date tonight, then?" I asked playfully.

"We're not on a date. We're friends," she clarified.

"So, you ride all your friends in their cars, huh?" I teased. Her face went red, and she looked down into her lap, her mass of curl covering her face.

I chuckle and she ends up laughing about it too.

We spent most of dinner just talking and joking around, it was honestly quite refreshing to just talk.

I hadn't had an open conversation with her in years, and when I did today I real exactly why I fell for her in the first place.

Our conversation is disrupted when the waitress comes back, asking us if we want dessert.

"No thanks," Amelia answered before I could even say anything, and the waitress left to come back with the receipt.

"The dessert isn't great here. We can go somewhere else,” she said after the waitress was gone. As soon as the receipt was placed on the table, I took it and opened my wallet to pay.

She pulls the receipt out of my hand and pulls her own purse from her handbag.

"I got it," she said.

"I don't think so." I place my cash on the small plate with the receipt.

"I'm going to pay. It's not even that expensive."

"It's not about the price. I'm a gentleman, Amelia." Her eyes glint at the humour of the situation.

"Come on. I'm about to take your company. The least I can do it pay for dinner," she said.

Hard to argue with that logic.

"Fine," I gave in. "But I'm paying for dessert." She agrees.

When we walked out of the restaurant, it was dark outside, but the city lights and lit building windows illuminated the streets.

"There's a nice ice cream place a few blocks down from here," Amelia suggested. I nodded. I'm up for anything with her.

I'm walking beside her, my hand inches away from hers. I want so badly to take it into mine. Her soft small hands fit so perfectly in mine. I'm about to reach for it…

"We're here," she said, pointing at an ice cream place decorated in baby pink and black decor. "Cookies and cream please,” she asked one of the workers, a teenager with neon pink hair in 2 buns.

"Chocolate," I replied when she asked me what I wanted.

After we both get our ice cream we sit in a booth and talk a little more.

"Amelia, this thing between us…" I want to ask her what we are, what's happening or what could happen.

I want more.

"Shh." She presses her spoon over my lips to quieten me. "Don't say anything about that."

"I need to know what this is."

"This—" She gestured between us. "—is nothing. Last time I was with, you we were married. Let's take it slow this time—no promises, no commitments. Please?" Her eyes were pleading.

"Alright, I can do that," I gave in.

I don't want to do that.

I want her all to myself.

But it's easier to give her what she wants than to lose her completely.