The Billionaire's Challenge (2 page)

I
cringed at this. There weren't many things I was afraid of, but
heights was one of them. “Listen, I know that you just bid on
me because of the charity. It's not necessary for you to take me out
to dinner. We can—“

“
I
want to take you out the dinner,” he cut me off, giving me a
look that suggested I had hurt his feelings somehow.

“
I'm
not hungry. It would be a waste of money,” I insisted. It
wasn't a lie. My nerves were too unsettled to eat in his presence.

“
You
really didn't want to do this, did you?” Garret smiled slyly,
and I couldn't help but blush. He had such a beautiful smile.

“
No,”
I replied quietly, averting his eyes.

“
I
generally like getting what I paid for, Miss Harrison.” There
was a strange sternness to his tone.

“
I'm
afraid of heights,” I muttered.

A
short laugh escaped Garret's lips before he pressed a button on the
wall to call up to the driver. “Change of plans. We're going to
the Petroleum Club. Cancel our reservations at the Tower”

“
Yes,
Mr. Fabel,” came a gruff reply.

“
Thank
you,” I said meekly, feeling guilty.

“
Mia.”
Garret drew my attention to him. “Just be yourself tonight,
alright? That's all that I want. You shouldn't have to feel uptight
and stuffy around me. I know that I'm in a business suit right now,
but I'm a jeans and t-shirt guy, just like I'm sure you're a jeans
and t-shirt girl.”

Was
it that obvious, I wondered? I nodded curtly, though I wasn't even
sure what normal me would do in a situation like this, considering
that I had never experienced anything similar before.

When
the limo got a bit too quiet, Garret spoke again, “So, Miss
Harrison, tell me a little about yourself?”

It's
Miss Harrison again? What happened to calling me by my first name?
“There's not much to tell, Mr. Fabel.”

“
Please,
call me Garret,” he interrupted.

“
And
you can continue to call me Mia.” I gave him my best polite
smile, happy that the formalities had been dropped. Calling him Mr.
Fabel made him sound old, and he certainly was not old.

He
smiled, catching my game. “Your hobbies?”

“
Writing,
playing video games, and watching anime.” There was no point in
hiding the truth. This would be the only time I would ever see him,
so why try to be more feminine than I really was. I saw myself as the
ultimate bachelorette, young beyond my years, a woman with childish
hobbies and an empty fridge.

“
Not
what I expected,” he admitted.

“
Just
being honest
.
”
I
shrugged.

“
I'm
not much into anime, but I do enjoy video games. What do you play?”

“
Mostly
tactical turn based role playing games. My favorite game is Ar
Tonelico.”

“
I've
never heard of it.”

“
Most
haven't. It's by a company called NIS America. They make great games
with awesome story lines.”

“
You
sound rather passionate about your gaming.” His smile
broadened.

“
I'm
single, anti-social, and I have nothing better to do.” Every
word coming out of my mouth made me cringe a little more inside. I
was being too honest—embarrassingly honest.

“
You
seem social enough to me. I don't know many anti-social people who
would volunteer for such an event.”

“
I
didn't volunteer,” I corrected him, slightly annoyed by the
fact that he had already forgotten. It was proof of his disinterest.

Thankfully,
we pulled up to the restaurant. I couldn't wait to be out of the
limo. The atmosphere had been suffocating, and I could only hope
things went better inside the restaurant.

Garret
ushered me out and I took his hand, walking through the parking lot
and into the building that housed the restaurant on the seventh
floor. We took the elevator and enjoyed another round of awkward
silence before the doors opened and we entered the dining room.

It
was gorgeous, dimly lit and romantic. This was the type of place
women dreamed their dates would take them. An exclusive dining club
for the wealthy where you had to come dressed up just to get in. All
the ladies wore long gowns and fancy cocktail dresses while the men
donned their nicest suits and ties.

We
were escorted to a table in the corner. One of the waiters pulled out
my seat, which I found a bit awkward, but I appeared grateful none
the less. When we were settled, Garret ordered a wine that I couldn't
pronounce and an appetizer of escargots a la bourguignonne. I could
only translate that as snails in something.

The
wine we were presented with was a deep red. I hated red wine but dare
not say a thing. I pretty much only drank Moscatos—sweet desert
wines. Not surprisingly, the wine was bitter on my tongue, but I
drank it with unladylike vigor in hopes that it would ease my edgy
nerves.

“
Have
you decided what you want to order?” Garret asked, his mouth
curling into a grin as his eyes landed on my already empty glass.

“
I
think I'll have the red snapper,” I replied, a bit surprised he
let me pick my own main course.

“
Good
choice, I think I'm going to have the veal.”

The
waiter came to take our order, which Garret delivered with perfect
pronunciation. When our glasses were filled, he continued, “Have
you ever eaten here before?”

“
Yes.”
I waited for Garret to ask how I had been to the restaurant before,
but he didn't.
“
What
about your hobbies?” I dared to ask.

“
My
hobbies?” He took a sip of wine, noticing that my glass had
already been drained yet again. “Well, aside from playing video
games, I like working out and playing music.”

The
working out part was obvious. Garret Fabel was fit. I couldn't help
but imagine what he might look like under his clothes.

“
What
instruments do you play?”

“
Guitar
and drums and keyboard.”

“
I
used to play guitar and piano too.”

“
Are
you any good?”

“
Not
hardly.”

“
Perhaps
I could give you lessons sometimes, if you're interested.”

My
eyes widened a bit at the prospect. I could envision being in his
bedroom, him sitting behind me with me tucked between his legs
feeling the heat of his sex against my backside. Garret would curl
his fingers on top of mine, showing them the correct position on the
neck of the guitar while he whispered his lessons into my ear. The
naughty thought sent a shiver down my body and warmth to my cheeks.
“
I'm
sure you're a busy man. I wouldn't want to burden you,” I
respectfully declined.

“
It
would be no burden. I so rarely have guests as genuinely honest as
you. I think it would be rather entertaining for us both.”

There
was something strange about the way he was looking at me, but I
couldn't put my finger on it. Garret's eyes smiled, but his
expression was still somehow serious.

Thankfully,
bowls of salad were slid in front of us, and I was free to ignore him
while I batted the tomatoes and croutons around nervously. My stomach
was too upset to eat, too twisted with knots. I nibbled on a piece of
spinach, trying to give the illusion of interest in my food. It had
been a long time since I had come to this restaurant, over ten years.
I wondered if it would be bad etiquette to ask for a to go box.

The
main course was served, and I barely picked at that as well. It
tasted amazing, but my stomach just wasn't into eating. Luckily, the
waiter asked if we needed take out boxes, so I didn't have to worry
about wasting the food. I'd enjoy it much better sitting in my
apartment alone later on.

When
the meal was over, Garret walked me out to the limo and ushered me
back inside. “What's your address?” he asked.

I
gave him an odd look. Why did he want to know?

“
So
I can give it to the driver, so we can drop you off,” he
replied to my silent question.

I
rattled off the office address, immediately thankful that I had left
my car there so he wouldn't have to drop me off at my apartment
complex.

“
Did
you enjoy the dinner?” Garret stirred me from my thoughts.

“
Yes,
it was excellent.”

“
We
should do this again some time.”

We
should? Why? What good reason would he have to want to go out with me
again? Surely, I wasn't good company.

“
Here's
my number.” He handed me a business card, and I stared at it
dumbly. On the front of the card was the MemeBoard logo with his name
and business number on the bottom right-hand side. “My cell
number is on the back.”

Trying
to stifle the shocked look on my face, I flipped the card over. On
the back, in handwriting barely attractive enough to be called
chicken scratch was Garret's cell number.

“
Thanks,”
I murmured, knowing full and well that I'd never use it. He probably
didn't mean for me to call anyway. Just being nice.

A
sigh of relief passed my lips when he dropped me off at my car and
pulled out of sight. I could finally quit pretending to be an
ill-bred princess. The bobby pins were the first thing to go. They'd
been giving me a headache since dinner. As soon as I stepped into my
Buick, the shoes were tossed into the backseat. Driving barefoot
wasn't the greatest idea, but it was better than wearing those feet
murdering bastards.

My
appetite had fully returned by the time I got to the apartment, and I
reheated my dinner with much vigor, happy to be eating absent the
company of Mister Sexy Blonde Adonis. How any woman could eat in his
presence was beyond me.

For
a few seconds, I considered tossing his business card in the trash.
What was the point in having it if I never planned on calling? But
then, my sentimental side took over, and I decided to shove it in my
junk drawer for a memento. It was a bad habit, saving concert ticket
stubs, and cards that people had sent me over the years, and stupid
little things like that.

The
next day at work, I was bombarded by questions from both Mrs. Eddison
and Charlise. How was my evening? Was Garret as attractive in person
as he was on television? What was his personality like?

“
It
was unnerving, and I didn't ask him any personal questions,” I
replied, to their disappointment. “But he does like video games
and working out and.” I had already forgotten the last thing he
had said. Was there a last thing? Maybe I shouldn't have thought so
harshly about him not remembering that I hadn't volunteered for the
charity. Perhaps his memory was just shitty like mine.

“
Sounds
like a typical guy to me,” Mrs. Eddison said nonchalantly.

“
A
typical guy?” Charlise huffed with all the enthusiasm of her
youth. “A typical guy doesn't own the world's second largest
social networking website. Nor does he look like . . . that.”
She sighed longingly.

“
See,
you should have sent her instead.” I couldn't help but smile,
smug on the inside at the fact that I got to spend the evening with
him instead of her. Then again, they probably would have hit it off a
lot better—had more things in common to talk about. Hell, he
probably would have bedded her by the end of the night, something I'd
never even considered. His loss, I decided, feeling wickedly happy
that it had been me instead of her.

The
week progressed onward, and my one night with Garret Fabel was soon
forgotten, replaced by more pressing matters, like paying bills and
deciding what new anime series I would start watching over the
weekend.