Chapter 51. A disastrous dinner
Lilly Bradley
Jackson was very upset, he ended the call and looked in my direction.
"How is it possible that you don't have your cell phone with you? It's irresponsible, Lilly. If something happened to you, how would you call me?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise at his question.
"How would I call you?" I asked, confused. "If something happened to me, I would call my parents."
"I meant who you would call." He blushed. "Okay, they say the potential client will be here in a few minutes, so," he looked at me, "wait in the car."
"No, I'm taking the car home, so 'boss,' see you on Monday." I tried to dodge him, but he grabbed my elbow to keep me from going down the porch steps.
"Wait," I noticed he was nervous. "What plans do you have that you don't want to wait for me to finish?" I wanted to smile, but I didn't.
"I have a date…" He raised an eyebrow, and I could see his jaw tense. "…with my laptop. I have a list of movies, I'll order pizza and…" I stopped. Why was I explaining this to him? "Well, the point is that I'm going to lock myself in my room on a Friday night."
"What if… we have that real date… today?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Today? Tell me no."
"Yes, today. It will be better than watching movies and eating pizza."
"Counteroffer." He smiled.
"Your pizza for some of the best steaks in town," uhhhh, "and the best champagne you've ever tasted in your life."
"Better than the one your mother had at her birthday party?"
"Better than that." I bit my lip; I didn't want to seem too eager to accept his counteroffer.
"I'm not dressed for the occasion," I tried to pretend.
"There won't be anyone around, and if you stay in that outfit, I'll stay in this one."
"Oh, please, Jackson!" I exclaimed sarcastically. "You look perfect in any outfit." I smiled, amused, but from his reaction, I realized I had said too much.
"So everything looks perfect on me."
"Yes, just like me," I looked at my clothes, which were presentable, then looked at him. "Fine, today. Where?"
"In a very special place for me, just wait..."
Half an hour later, I was standing next to Jackson, looking at the property. It had something that made you see it with the best eyes of love. The place was stunning, high ceilings, a large terrace with a view of nature, three bathrooms with jacuzzis, waterfalls, everything was perfect. Rustic on the outside, modern on the inside. Why didn't anyone want the house? It was perfect.
"I love it, thank you so much for showing it to us, Mr. Johnson." He thanked him, and they walked away to talk while I gazed out the living room window at the view.
"It's beautiful." Minutes later, Jackson approached me and stood by my side.
"Did you like the house?" I smiled when I looked in his direction.
"It's beautiful, it has everything. Why hasn't it sold? I would have made an offer." He raised an intrigued eyebrow.
"Did you like it that much?"
"Didn't you?"
"The location to the main road, it's isolated. Besides, the only thing covering it from prying eyes are the big trees."
"So what? That's the best part. I would build a fence around it and put up a reinforced gate if you're worried about unauthorized people coming in. And that's it, I would plant more trees along the path, and in the front yard, a table with chairs. Can you imagine having breakfast there on Sundays?"
"I've imagined everything you said. I could make some improvements and..."
"But why hasn't anyone bought the house?" He shook his head.
"What? But…?" I think I was getting too sentimental. "Well, maybe it's the distance from the main road that didn't convince them." He nodded.
"That must be it," he said suddenly, and I followed him. "Since you don't know where we're going for dinner, I'll take you in my car."
"What if you tell me where and I drive?" He pursed his lips.
"Fine." I noticed something in his gesture, looked where he looked, and twisted my lips. The car's lights were on, they flickered a bit, and then they went out. "I think you don't have a battery."
"But you can give me a jump with your beautiful new Bentley," I joked.
"I left the kit in my other car. I'm sorry." But I knew he wasn't sorry; on the contrary, I noticed triumph. "I'll send for it, leave it to me and don't worry. Take your things and let's go."
And like an obedient child, I did.
Then he started the car, we crossed the long paths and reached the main road. When he took it, he went in the opposite direction, not towards the city.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To a special place." He smiled without taking his eyes off the road.
"Oh," I looked out the window while listening to the classical music he had put on to fill the silence in the car. Almost half an hour later, we arrived in a residential area with large lots and majestic houses. I was almost stunned. "It's a beautiful place," I looked at him. "What area is this?" He smiled widely, proud.
"It's the Hamptons. Sometimes they call it the eternal summer of New Yorkers," he said in a low tone. We passed several houses until he stopped in front of a large electric gate. Two men in dark suits approached; he rolled down the window. "Call Richard and inform him that an agent's car was left at the mansion, so he can send for it."
"Yes, Mr. Johnson." Then he rolled up the window, the electric gate began to rise, and Jackson started to enter the space. There was nothing there, I heard the gate close behind us.
"Alright, we've arrived," I swallowed with difficulty, nerves suddenly overtaking me.
"Where are we?"
"At my sanctuary," I remembered Maxima had mentioned something, "But isn't no one supposed to come here?"
"Oh, it's your weekend house," he nodded.
"You're the first to come," then Maxima was telling the truth.
"Besides your family?" He shook his head, frowning.
"No, you're the first. No one has come. In fact, they think there's a possibility I have a house, but they don't know if it's true."
"But Maxima knows."
"She knows what I want her to know. Just that..." he smiled, seeing my surprised face. "Come on, get out, I'll show you the place."
After a tour of the place, I was impressed—and a little tired from climbing to the third floor—with the luxury he lived in. Obviously, it was nothing compared to the place I temporarily lived with my family. Nor how I lived in London all my life. Well, there was the extravagance of the Chesters, but this luxury was more... warm? I couldn't find a word to describe what I wanted to say. Jackson had asked me to take a seat in the living room, and here I was, sitting and looking at the fireplace.
"You have to try the champagne..." he approached with a smile, holding a glass in his hand.
"I'd rather wait to eat something, or it'll go to my head..." I cleared my throat. "I didn't eat as much as I would have liked," he frowned.
"You haven't had lunch?" I shrugged.
"Just a little, well, very little. Maxima pressured me to go to the house to wait for the furniture, so I didn't have time to eat properly."
"Well, dinner will be ready in ten minutes," I raised an eyebrow.
"Did you cook?" I could see triumph in his eyes.
"I've always cooked. Sometimes my housekeeper leaves me a meal or two on weekends. But I like to cook."
"Oh, very well," I smiled. "Do you want me to help?"
"Do you want to help me?" he asked.
"Why are you surprised?" I stood up when he started walking and followed him to the kitchen.
"It's just that only my mother likes to cook," he approached the oven and checked something. I sat on the granite island and helped with the salad.
"And did your dates know how to cook?" He stopped but didn't turn towards me. "But I don't think you don't know anyone who likes to cook." Then he turned to me.
"My dates," he repeated those words. "Well, from all the dates my mother has set up or forced me to go on, they didn't like to cook. But they loved going to the best and most expensive restaurants."
"Oh," I stopped what I was doing, and he growled under his breath.
"No, no," he started to say. "I didn't explain myself correctly. You are a very different date from the others."
"Jackson," I tried to stop him from continuing.
"No, wait, let me correct myself. Just because today is our date and I haven't taken you to an expensive place doesn't mean I don't want to. I mean, I'd rather you and I be here, for you to know this intimate part of me that I very jealously guard from others. I want you to see me..." he said from the other side of the island. His words moved me.
"I see you..."
"But the Jackson, the man, the one who has wanted to kiss you since he saw you at the mansion. That's the Jackson I want you to see."
"And why don't you do it?" he cleared his throat.
"Because I don't want you to think that just because I invited you to a date at my sanctuary, I want to take advantage of you."
"Wow, I love your honesty. But won't it hurt us?" he frowned.
"What?"
"That you don't come closer and burn that desire to kiss me." He stood frozen in place. "Well then, I'll burn that desire for you. How about that?"
"Yes, yes, I love the idea," I smiled at hearing his response as if he were a teenager. I got down from the stool and walked around the island until I was just a meter away from him. He had the champagne glass in his hand that I had refused to take. Suddenly, without warning, he dropped it when he tried to close the distance. "Sorry, I don't know what happened..."
"You got nervous," I confessed. He tried to clean the liquid with a cloth. "I'll help you set the table," I didn't want to make him more nervous than he already was.
"Thanks," he said in a serious tone, but I knew he was giving himself a mental lecture to calm down when I saw the vein in his neck stand out and his frown deepen. We went to the table. I was starving, and then the aroma filled my senses. He came with a pan, and inside were two large steaks cooked with fine herbs. He had set the salad and a plate of mashed potatoes with vegetables. "I forgot the salt," he got up but took the tablecloth with him. I don't know how, but it happened too quickly.
The steaks were on the floor along with the rest of what was on the table. We looked at each other for a moment, thinking this date wasn't going well, but for me, it was endearing how concentrated he was on making it perfect.
"I'm a disaster," he put his hands on his face and then massaged his temples. I approached him and took his hands, unable to erase my silly smile in front of him.
"If this doesn't work out, but we insist on trying, you'll be my favorite disaster," I pulled him to lean towards me. I kissed him, yes, that's right, I, Lilly Elizabeth Bradley, was kissing Jackson... and I was determined to give myself a chance.