Forbidden: Daddy's Best Friend

Eleven

Olivia Westview

I stared out the window, watching the Philadelphia traffic.

The silence in the car was thick, and I didn’t know whether I should talk to James or not. What would I even say? Hi, do you remember screwing me at the disco? Yeah, my dad would be thrilled if he heard about that.

The streetlights cast a flickering glow on the car’s interior, and I was lost in my thoughts when I noticed we were taking a different route. This plucked me out of my reverie, and I turned to James. “This is not the way home. Is this a shortcut? Where are we going?”

James didn’t look at me, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “I have taken the liberty of making a reservation at Barclay Prime. We are having dinner.”

“What?” I was incredulous. “James, I’d rather just go home.”

He kept driving. “It won’t be long, Olivia. I’ll bring you home after. Besides, I already told Cornell.”

“You told Dad?” My eyes were almost bugging out of their sockets. “What did you say?”

“I said that we would have a little company dinner, and he said it’s not a problem.”

My mouth went dry, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Once again, there was nothing I could do. I leaned back in my seat, the weight of resignation settling over me.

Fvcking fantastic.

The Maserati eventually pulled into the parking lot of Barclay Prime, the upscale restaurant’s neon sign glowing softly in the evening light. The valet approached as we came to a stop, and James handed him the keys.

“Ready, Olivia?” he asked, stepping out of the car and coming around to my side. I nodded silently, my nerves jangling as I took his offered hand and stepped out of the car.

~ o 0 o ~

The restaurant exuded sophistication, from the plush velvet chairs to the chandeliers that glittered overhead. The walls were adorned with modern art, and the soft lighting created an intimate, exclusive atmosphere.

“Mr. Sinclair, welcome,” a waitstaff greeted. “Right this way.”

We were led through the elegant dining area. As we reached our table, the waiter pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, feeling the eyes of other patrons subtly shifting in our direction.

The menu was set before us, and I flipped through the pages, my eyes widening at the selections. Every dish sounded exquisite, and the prices were astronomical. Three hundred dollars for a slab of beef? Fvcking hell.

James, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease. He leaned back in his chair, glancing at the menu with a practiced eye. “Order whatever you want, Olivia.”

My fingers nervously traced the edge of the menu. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “You should try their filet mignon.”

I glanced back at the menu. The filet mignon, the Wagyu beef, the lobster tail—everything was so far beyond my usual fare.

After a moment of silent deliberation, I made my choice. I looked up at James, who was watching me with amusement and something else I couldn’t quite identify as the waiter returned to take our orders.

“I’ll have the filet mignon,” I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.

“And for you, sir?” the waiter asked, turning to James.

“The same for me,” James replied, handing over his menu.

The food was served with a flourish, each dish a masterpiece of culinary artistry. The filet mignon was perfectly seared, the meat tender and succulent. Sides of truffle mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus complemented the main course.

James initiated small talk as we ate, discussing work and the intricacies of the company. I responded dutifully, but my mind was elsewhere, constantly dragged back to the uncomfortable reality of our situation. I tried to focus on the conversation, nodding and making appropriate responses, but the nagging thoughts wouldn't let go. What if this goes on and on?

I had to address it.

I couldn't continue working under this tension, pretending that nothing had happened between us. My heart pounded as I built up the courage to confront him. Finally, I set my fork down and looked directly at him.

"James," I started. "We need to talk about the elephant in the room."

He looked up from his plate. "What do you mean, Olivia?"

"You know exactly what I mean," I said, my eyes narrowing slightly. "Our...one-night stand. And the fact that after that night, I found out you were my dad's best friend. And now, I'm working for you as your secretary."

Silence.

He sighed. "You shouldn't worry about it, Olivia. It was just a one-time thing. No need to make it more than what it is."

So, yeah. I was right. He does remember me. F.u.c.k. I thought. However, it was too late to take it all back so I pushed through. "Then what about all this?"

"All this what?"

"You buying me gifts, this dinner. Assigning me as your secretary."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I told you already, it's all part of the job. Besides, a little dinner to get to know my secretary wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Is that all this is to you? Just part of the job?" Where am I getting all this confidence from?

"Olivia, you're overthinking it. I like to take care of my employees." He shrugged. "And yes, sometimes that means gifts and dinners. Don't read too much into it."

"But it feels like more," I insisted, my voice softer now, almost pleading.

"Feelings can be deceiving," he replied. "Let's keep this professional, Olivia. You're doing a great job, and I want you to continue doing so. Don't let our past get in the way of your future here."

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Alright, James. I'll try."

"Good," he said, his smile returning. "Now, let's enjoy the rest of our dinner, shall we?"

I nodded again, picking up my fork and forcing a smile. But deep down, the tension still lingered, unresolved and unsettling. Well, that was awkward. And did not fvcking solve anything.

As the meal drew to a close, the once-delicious food started to lose its flavor. Despite the impeccable service and the luxurious ambiance, the tension between us had tainted everything. I could feel it in the way I pushed the last bite of filet mignon around my plate, suddenly not so hungry anymore. James seemed to notice that I was a little off-put, my energy having shifted, but he didn’t mention it. He merely observed me with a subtle curiosity, his usual air of control firmly in place.

When the waiter returned with the bill, James pulled out his black card without hesitation, handing it over with the kind of ease that suggested this was nothing out of the ordinary for him. The waiter returned a moment later with the receipt, which James signed with a flourish before tucking his card back into his wallet.

“Shall we?” he asked, standing and offering his hand to help me out of my chair. I took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine, but my mind was still tangled in the unresolved emotions of our earlier conversation.

I murmured my thanks as he guided me toward the exit, his hand lightly resting on the small of my back. The restaurant's staff gave us polite nods and goodbyes as we made our way to the door. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite his reassurances, everything was far from settled. There were too many unspoken words, and too many feelings left unacknowledged.

As we walked toward the car, I rummaged through my purse, searching for my phone to check the time. My fingers brushed against my compact mirror, and before I knew it, it slipped from my grasp and tumbled to the ground. Without thinking, I bent down to pick it up.

Just as my fingers closed around the compact mirror, I felt a sudden, forceful bump against my shoulder. The impact sent me slightly off balance. I gasped, stumbling. "Oh my god!

"Olivia!" James's voice rose.

Before I could fully register what had happened, James was there. His hand shot out to grab the man who had collided with me. His grip was firm as he seized the man by the collar and yanked him back. The man’s face was pale with surprise as James loomed over him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” James demanded. “Why aren’t you watching where you’re going?”

“I... I’m sorry, I didn’t see her. I wasn’t paying attention.”

"What if she fell and hit her head? Huh? What if you hurt her?"

"I-I... I said I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to!"

James didn’t let go immediately, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, it seemed like he might not let the man off so easily, but then he released his grip, shoving the man back slightly. "Get lost before I do something I will regret."

"James, it's alright, I am not hurt." I straightened up, my heart still racing from the unexpected collision and the intensity of James’s reaction. As I regained my balance, I took a closer look at the man who had bumped into me, and my eyes went wide.

“Anthony?” I asked. "Is that you?"