Chapter 88

Chapter 88

Matthew didn't hold back—he ordered dish after dish.

I had a sinking feeling the two of us could never finish all this food, but since I'd offered to treat, stopping him now would make me look cheap. So I kept my mouth shut.

"All right, that'll do for now."

Matthew handed the menu back, and the server retreated with a polite nod.

The moment she was gone, I shot him a look and hissed, "What do you mean 'for now'? This is already enough for both of us. How much more are you planning to order?"

Matthew's long fingers wrapped around his water glass. He took a slow sip, his tone casual. "The food here's really good. I wanted you to try everything."

Sweet of him, sure, but completely unnecessary. I hated waste.

When the dishes started arriving, I realized I'd underestimated myself.

Matthew hadn't lied. The food was incredible.

I'd been running on fumes lately, barely wolfing down meals between shifts. Now, faced with something this good, I didn't bother pretending to be dainty. I ate until I was stuffed.

I set down my utensils with a satisfied sigh and looked up—only to find Matthew watching me, a smile playing on his lips.

Heat crept up my neck. I grabbed a napkin and dabbed at my mouth with exaggerated grace, mumbling, "What are you staring at? Never seen a woman eat before?"

Matthew laughed softly, his eyes glinting. "Not never. Just never seen one eat quite like you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Well, sorry for subjecting Mr. Griffin to such an undignified display."

Still smiling, Matthew poured me a glass of water and slid it across the table. "Undignified? I think it's cute. Food's supposed to be enjoyed, not picked at."

That sounded suspiciously like damage control. I pressed my lips together and eyed him warily. "How many girls have you used that line on?"

Matthew looked like he was actually giving it serious thought. He even started counting on his fingers.

"One, two, three..."

I rolled my eyes and stood up. "Forget it. I don't actually want to know. Let's go."

Matthew laughed and grabbed his coat, following me out. "Hold on, I just counted—my mom, my grandma, my aunt, a couple of cousins... I think I've used it on all of them."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes again, less gracefully this time.

He was messing with me. I had no idea he had this teasing side. I still remembered the first time we met—he'd been all cool aloofness, untouchable.

"But seriously, you do look thinner lately. If you could eat like this every day, I'd feel a lot better."

That stopped me. I frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, Matthew's sharp profile softened with a faint smile.

"I'm leaving the country tomorrow. Not sure when I'll be back."

My steps faltered. I wanted to ask if that was why he'd asked me to dinner—to see me before he left—but the words died on my tongue.

Given where we stood, saying something like that felt inappropriate. So I kept quiet.

When he saw me trudging ahead in silence, his voice took on a playful lilt. "Yeah, you're right. That's exactly why. I wanted to see you before I left."

I glanced at him, frowning. "I didn't ask," I muttered.

Then I immediately looked down, afraid his gaze would pull me in.

He was way too good at this. I could barely hold my ground.

When we reached the front desk, I moved to pay, but Matthew caught my arm and steered me toward the exit.

"Already taken care of. If you want to eat here again, just use my name."

I frowned. "Then that makes this your treat, doesn't it? I said I was paying to return the favor."

Matthew turned to look at me, one brow arching, a smile tugging at his lips. "You agreeing to have dinner with me? That's favor enough. Besides, I don't make a habit of letting women pay."

My chest tightened. I wasn't wrong when I said he had a way with words.

What a gentleman.

I turned my head away, accepting his gallant gesture without argument. "Fine. But next time, I pick the place."

Matthew's rich voice carried a hint of amusement. "If you're offering to buy me dinner, of course I'll come. But it'll have to wait until I get back."

A sleek black Rolls-Royce idled by the entrance. The window rolled down, revealing Matthew's assistant. "Mr. Griffin, your luggage is packed. We need to leave for the airport now."

I blinked. "Wait, I thought you weren't leaving until tomorrow. Why tonight?"

Matthew shrugged on his coat, his tone gentle. "Schedule got tight. If I leave tonight, I can make the meeting tomorrow."

Since it was for work, I didn't push. I stepped back and waved. "Safe travels, then."

But Matthew didn't move. He just looked at me.

My fingers curled into fists.

Before I could process what was happening, he reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his voice soft. "I'll call you when I'm back."

I stood frozen for a moment, then nodded.

Matthew pulled his hand back and slid smoothly into the car.

I watched until the taillights disappeared.

I stood there in a daze, and by the time I snapped out of it, my fingers were cold.

Each day was colder than the last. Winter was coming.

I exhaled into the air, watching the white mist rise and dissolve.

Fishing my keys from my pocket, I turned toward my car.

Once inside, Michael's call came through. I was in too good a mood to be bothered. Without thinking, I declined it.

After leaving the restaurant, I drove straight back to the hospital.

By the time I reached the underground parking garage, it was late. Joanna called. "Claire, where are you? I'm craving that pasta from the front entrance. Can you grab me some on your way in?"

I checked the time—still early enough. I agreed.

After hanging up, I grabbed my keys and locked the car.

I hadn't gone more than a few steps when I felt like someone was following me.

I glanced back at the dark garage. Nothing.

Probably just paranoia. Still, my pace quickened.

Then I heard it—footsteps behind me, moving faster.

I didn't dare look back. I broke into a run toward the exit, but whoever it was kept pace.

He was fast. Before I knew it, something heavy slammed into my shoulder. Pain shot through me, and I stumbled, hitting the ground hard.

I twisted around and saw a man with his face covered.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a mask that hid half his face. Only his eyes were visible—cold and vicious.

"Who are you?" My voice trembled despite my efforts to stay calm. "There are cameras here. You should stop."

The man said nothing. His eyes narrowed at my words. Then, gripping a baseball bat, he started walking toward me, one slow step at a time.