The rest of my day went by in a blur. Any productivity was thrown out the window the moment the calendar update arrived in my email. A dinner date with the director was not the way I wanted to conclude my day. Honestly, all I wanted was to go home, ditch this bra, throw on my favorite sweat then lose myself in a pint of cookie dough ice cream and reruns of a trashy reality show. Just scratch this entire day and experience off my record.

But that was impossible. Instead, I was still doing damage control on my misguided confession. A heavy sigh rattled in my chest as I stepped out of the lobby into the evening chill. There weren't many people wandering around at this hour, though the main road was heavy with traffic. The joys of working below downtown. People were either trying to get home or get their evening started.

A horn honked and I jolted at the sound, eyes fixing on a black sudan. The drivers side window, rolling down to reveal Mr. Shelby. My cheeks flushed at the exasperated look he tossed in my direction, giving a jerk of his head toward the back end. A soft, muttered curse fell from my lips as I hurried to the car.

I opened the door to the backseat and found Julian seated on the opposite side, face focused on a pile of papers nestled in hand. There was a neat stack of files beside him, a small barrier between our seats. I hesitated at the sight of him, glancing back over my shoulder, hoping that no one was around to see me getting into a car with our director.

"Please get in, Miss Andrews. We have a reservation to meet."

"Right." I ducked down and was happy to find that I didn't have to squeeze or contort myself to fit into the car. It was a first for me. The door slammed shut behind me, jolting me back into the reality that I was trapped in the backseat with the director of my dream job headed to have dinner.

The air was stifling or maybe it was the silence that formed around us. We didn't know each other. Our first conversation was only a few hours ago. The power dynamic between us was completely one-sided. This was more unsettling than our first meeting. At that time, my fear was getting fired. Now, it was more than a simple getting fired. If Julian found out that the confession was false, or more correctly, meant for someone else entirely—wouldn't he be embarrassed?

His intention in the beginning was clearly to reject me, or at least he implied as much this afternoon, but then he'd gone and changed his mind. Irritation made the back of my throat itch. What was the reason for the change? It would've been better if he had stuck to his guns. But no. Now, we were both trapped in this frustrating situation; him unwittingly.

I glanced in his direction, studying his profile for a moment.

His presence wasn't as overwhelming as this afternoon. Instead, it was calm and focused.

"Do you have something you'd like to say, Miss Andrews?" His question startled me and I turned my face away from him, ears burning. I'd obviously been observing him a bit too long.

There were a lot of things I would like to say, but I swallowed them and said, "I'd rather you call me Kate."

That was a lie, but I didn't want to spend the next hour of my life talking in such a formal manner. If everything went well, it wouldn't matter anyways.

"Then I will," he replied, without any hesitation. In fact, he sounded almost pleased by the thought. There was a burst of flutters in my stomach and I frowned at my reflection in the window. "Only when we're outside of the office, of course."

"Of course..." I muttered.

We spent the rest of the short drive in silence, until we pulled up to a tall, familiar building: The Du Pont. My eyes widened as I tilted my head to get a better view of it up close. I'd gone past hundreds, probably thousands of times and always dreamed that someday I'd get to go inside. The hotel itself was a landmark in the city and its skyline. Its historical value alone made it an attraction.

"We're having dinner here?" I turned to Julian.

He met my gaze, pausing for a moment before answering, "It's the closest place to the office, and unfortunately I'm on a tight schedule. But I assure you the food is good and the view of the city is praiseworthy."

I almost laughed at his response. Did he think that I was disappointed? Was there a person who could be upset over such a gesture? I hoped that we never met them. 

Julian set his papers down atop the pile of files. Then his door opened and Mr. Shelby was waiting with his arms ready to accept the paperwork. It was passed over with a debate. "Call printing and tell them to pull the advert from the issue entirely. After reviewing the client's contract there won't be time to reshoot before the deadline, we're already behind schedule as is."

"Understood. Should I arrange another meeting with the marketing team?" Mr. Shelby stepped to the side, allowing Julian to get out of the car.

He adjusted his jacket, twisting and glancing back into the car and meeting my curious gaze. His eyes softened, the corners of his lips turning upward for a moment then he turned his attention to Mr. Shelby once more. "There won't be time to meet with them before my trip. Schedule it for the day after my return and be sure to send an apology arrangement to the client. Make sure to deliver it personally, Mr. Shelby."

"Of course, Sir."

"That's all," he said, turning to me again. "Do you need help getting out, Kate?"

My cheeks flushed as I realized they both were waiting for me to get out of the car and were waiting that entire time Julian was relaying his orders. I slid across the seats, surprised to find an outstretched hand waiting for me at the end of the short journey. Glancing up from under my lashes, I met Julian's dark gaze, hesitating a moment before taking his hand and allowing him to help me out of the car. Once again, we were standing too close, the heat of his body sinking into mine. The closeness of our bodies spoke about a familiarity that we didn't have.

Julian released my hand, checking his watch with a click of his tongue. He really lived his life on the clock didn't he? I cleared my throat and stepped around him and toward the entrance of The Du Pont. There was a doorman dressed in a neat uniform, greeting a few businessmen as he opened the door for them. The glow of the grand chandelier momentarily sent shadows scattering across the glittering sidewalk.

A warm hand pressed into the small of my back and I jumped, surprised by the sudden company. "Shall we, Kate?"

"Right."

My stomach fluttered at the sound of my name being spoken in such a rich, gentle tone. I tongued my cheek, my muscles stiff as stone. There was nothing natural about the way I was acting. Though, to be fair, this was a completely unprecedented situation. Still, I needed to try to act a bit more comfortable, Julian was going to remain my boss once I sorted this whole thing out. It wouldn't hurt to leave him with a better impression. Hell, maybe there was a way to turn this catastrophe into an opportunity.

I did my best to keep my awe to myself as we entered the lobby. The art deco interior and decor made the room look like Midas himself had touched everything. My gaze fixed on the large mirror on the ceiling that only made the room appear to stretch into infinity.

"Do you think this is all original?" I asked, unable to keep my curiosity to myself.

"Most of it is imitation, actually. But the chandelier is the original."

I turned my gaze to Julian, lifting a brow as I watched him lean forward and press the call button for the elevator. "How do you know that?"

He gave me a sidelong glance, eyes shifting from me to the descending numbers. "The owners are a client."

Of course, they were. This man must have connections beyond my imagination. Being made to remember that didn't help me feel relaxed at all. If anything that only made me more aware of him and the situation I was currently in. And made me more certain that he could never find out the truth of my confession.

The elevator ride was quiet, and I was grateful that Julian didn't appear to be a person who needed to fill the silence with unnecessary small talk. And his firm presence beside me somehow stifled my insistent urge to ramble. When the doors opened again, we were graced with the vision of dim lighting, the quiet hum of voices, and the view of the evening skyline beyond tabled patrons.

Julian wasn't kidding when he told me the view was praiseworthy. I stepped onto the floor, taking in the sight with wide eyes. A woman dressed in sleek black slacks and a white button up blouse greeted us with a welcoming smile. She stood behind a darkwood podium, pen in hand. "Do you have a reservation for tonight?"

Julian stepped forward at her question. "Two, under Vargas."

She nodded, gaze dropping to her schedule book. Her eyes widened for a moment, whatever note that was written changing the atmosphere. Her smile was brighter and her posture more perfect. I peeked over at Julian and he appeared unphased by the change. It must be something that he was used to, but interesting to see how people treated him once they knew who he was.

"Follow me," she said, before leading us past the elegant bar, and towards a narrow staircase. A few curious patrons glanced in our direction as we passed their tables but most of them minded their own business. I guess for them being around people like Julian was probably an everyday occurrence.

We headed upstairs onto balcony seating. The businessmen I'd seen enter The Du Pont, were seated together in a corner booth. One of them glanced in our direction and lifted his glass of amber liquid at Julian in greeting. He nodded his head in return but made no attempt to head over to them. I couldn't help my curiosity, trying to figure out if I might recognize them or not. Though it was hard to make out their faces in the dim lighting.

I gave up trying when Julian pulled out the chair for me, and I took the seat, trying not to be thrown off by the display. It was beginning to feel more and more like a date, despite how Julian referred to this meeting this afternoon. I watched as he grabbed the menus off the table and handed them to the hostess.

"Tell the chef I'll have my usual—" He paused and glanced down at me. There was a puzzled expression on his face, as if he remembered who was with him. Julian's gaze shifted from me to the menus, then he cleared his throat. "Do you have any dietary restrictions, Kate?"

"Uh—no?"

His lips twitched. "You don't sound confident."

I sat up straighter at his familiar remark. "No, I don't. But I'm not a huge fan of seafood."

Those dark eyes fixed themselves on me like a spotlight. Being the center of his focus made my palms begin to sweat. I shifted in the chair, the urge to ramble taking over. "But I can eat it, of course. I'm not picky..."

"Bring me two of my usuals. A glass of bourbon and—" He was looking at me again.

"Whatever wine is cheapest," I replied.

Julian smiled at that, a warm chuckle rumbling in his chest. The sparkle of amusement in his eyes didn't bring me any comfort. It seemed almost like he was laughing at me. Heat blossomed in my chest and raced up the back of my neck, stopping at the tip of my ears.

He leaned over and said something to the hostess in a low tone, though his eyes never strayed from my face. I was the one to look away first, unable to bear with the scrutiny. The hostess left with a final greeting and Julian took the seat across from mine, his foot brushing against mine for a moment.

I jerked my legs back, tucking them under my chair and doing my best to ignore the way my stomach fluttered at the simple touch. It was on my way to nervous breakdown if I didn't get myself under control.

"The view is praiseworthy, like you said..." I muttered trying to turn the attention toward anything but me.

He made a soft hum of agreement. "A beautiful view is good for stimulating the mind. And in my position, it's a crucial thing."

"That makes sense. I wish I had the ability to see sights like this more often."

Julian nodded his head. "I guess the mailroom leaves a lot to be desired." 

I coughed at his response, realizing how my remark might have sounded like a complaint. "I didn't really mean anything by that. It—"

"Relax, Kate." His voice was smooth and rich, and his expression unbothered. "We're not here as boss and employee. And even if we were, there is no reason for you to not voice your opinions."

"...Right. Sorry."

He leaned back in his chair, gaze focused on me. It was hard to look at him directly for longer than a few seconds at a time. Honestly, it was probably for the better that the lighting was dim. Before the need to ramble took over again, a waiter approached our table with our drinks in hand.

"Wow, that was fast."

Julian took our drinks, excusing the waiter. "They value their customers."

I snorted at his comment. "What you mean is they value your tight schedule."

He chuckled. "Isn't that what I said but in fewer words?"

"Afraid of wasting even a minute, I guess." I accepted the wine from him and did not waste any time before tasting it. The thick flavor that coated my tongue took me by surprise. There was no way in hell that there was anything cheap about what I just put into my mouth.

He watched me, a small smile playing on his lips. I swallowed and placed the glass down. 

"Do you like it?"

"Of course, but—" I shifted my gaze to the view of the city then back to him. "It didn't taste cheap..."

There was the spark of amusement in his eyes once more. "I hope not."

He must have ordered something else for me, which only made me feel more burdened. This was not going at all in the direction I intended. What did I need to do to take control of this situation? What should I say to make him understand that us dating was a bad idea and a waste of his time?

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"...It's not that—" Although this whole situation was making me uncomfortable, I couldn't blame that on him. "more like you're intimidating. But I'm sure you hear that alot, Mr. Vargas."

His lips twitched. "I thought I told you to call me, Julian," he corrected before continuing, "And It's not the first time I've been told that. Though I'm a bit surprised to hear it from you."

I stared across the table at him, blinking. "What do you mean?"

He glanced down into this glass, taking a drink before answering, "The confession you wrote was so earnest and confident. It gave me the impression that you're not a person easily swayed from your goals, no matter what or who might stand in your way. I find it hard to believe that the same person who took such a risk is intimidated by me."

I didn't know what to say. My heart was beating a frenzied rhythm in my chest, not because of embarrassment or fear, but because of Julian's matter of fact assessment of me. I doubted he meant it as anything by it. Still, it felt like a huge compliment, and from someone who didn't seem like the type to hand them out often.

I was more than grateful when our waiter returned with two plates filled with steaming food. It was a creamy looking pasta with chicken and colorful, steamed zucchini. My mouth watered at the sight in front of me. I was a bit put off earlier when I wasn't able to look over the menu and pick my own meal, but looking at my dinner—I didn't have the urge to complain anymore.

I didn't wait to be told to eat, nor did I care about my manners. My stomach was clenching with a fierce hunger I'd ignored most of the day. My nerves had kept me on edge most the day, making it impossible to eat. I hummed with delight as I placed bite after bite into my mouth, periodically washing it down with the rich flavored wine. Only after the ache in my stomach began to dissipate did I come back to my senses.

I glanced across the table to find Julian was quietly and comfortably enjoying his own dinner. If he was bothered at all by my behavior it didn't show. I shifted in my chair, the movement pulling his dark gaze in my direction.

"Thank you for treating me to dinner," I said, feeling an inkling of shame.

He lifted his napkin, and wiped at his mouth. "I'm sure the chef would have been pleased to watch the way you ate his food."

I wanted to sink into my seat and die of embarrassment. Instead, I let out a strained chuckle, reaching up to rub at my neck. "I might have been hungrier than I realized."

"Should I order you something more?"

"No!" I snapped, lifting my hand.

Julian arched a brow and my cheeks flooded with warmth. I dipped my head, trying to regain my composure. "No, I'm more than fine with this. Thank you."

"You don't have to stifle yourself on my account," he pressed.

"I'm not. I swear," I replied, forcing a smile onto my face.

It looked like he might push a bit more for a moment, but with a shrug of his shoulders he relented. "I suppose we should talk about us then..."

Finally! I sat up a bit straighter in my seat, and Julian flashed me a warm smile, the amused light back in his eyes. He looked rather pleased by my response, and that didn't make me happy. I got the feeling that he was somehow misunderstanding something.

"I've been thinking about what you said this afternoon—"

"I'm glad."

I continued talking, ignoring his remark. If I didn't take control now then I had the feeling I'd continue to be swept up in Julian's pace. "And I think it would be best not to change the way things are between us."

Julian leaned forward, expression becoming unreadable. He wasn't saying anything but something about that left me more unsettled. I knew he was a businessman through and through—negotiations and deals, those were his bread and butter. If I didn't come up with some reason to contradict the confession I made then I'd make myself a suspicious person.

"What if people found out we were dating? That might cause issues not only for us but for other people at the company. It's not like I intend to stay in the mailroom forever. And I want people to take me seriously. I never want my effort or achievements to be questioned. Which is why I realized that—despite my personal feelings—it would be safer to keep things the way they've been between us."

I let out a slow even breath, confident that there was no better argument than this. And I'd thought about it alot, running through it in my head all afternoon. Julian was a smart man, and he'd been ready to turn me down in the first place. There was no way that he wouldn't be convinced.

Julian tilted his head, expression relaxing into something thoughtful. His dark eyes shifted to the view of the city below us, the lights of the shops and cars, glimmering like a sea of stars. There was a poise to him, like he belonged on the cover of a magazine or in a museum, somewhere people could admire him.

"Your concerns are valid ones." I nodded my head, glad that he understood.

"It is important that our personal lives and professional lives have boundaries." He took a deep drink from his glass, finishing off what was left. My eyes watered at the thought of how it must burn, but he showed no indication that it did. Julian sat the glass down and fixed me with an unwavering stare. "Tell me, did you really mean everything you wrote in that email?"

Not this again. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I meant every word that I wrote." But those words weren't meant for you.

"So not only are you earnest but you're ambitious. You're willing to sacrifice one desire for another, that's admirable." My face warmed to another compliment, though it didn't seem right that he should be complimenting at this moment."Kate, if I could offer some criticism, you need to learn to ask for more and think a bit more flexibly."

"Huh?"

He smiled, leaning forward. "There is no reason for anyone to know that we are dating."

"There isn't?"

"We will keep things secret while we get to know each other better and decide if we want to continue seeing each other. In fact, I would also prefer it that way."

My heart sputtered in my chest. This wasn't at all how I expected him to respond. "But what if somehow we get found out or—"

"I assure you what you're afraid of won't happen."

"I don't know—" Julian reached across the table and grabbed my hand, stealing the rest of the words and thoughts from me. His hand was big, and warm—and somehow comforting.

"We can figure it out as we go. Think of it as we're just getting to know each other better, it's not so serious, Kate."

I struggled to swallow around the lump in my throat. "...right."

He smiled at my response, removing his hand from mine. "I look forward to spending more time with you."

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say that I felt the same. So I forced a smile and grabbed my wine glass, finishing it off. This man was more interested in seeing this through than I thought. What the hell was I going to do? No one could ever know about this. I peered over at him, eyes narrowing. I would just have to make him realize that I was the last person in the world he wanted to spend time with.