One Weekend with the Billionaire

Only Dinner

Julia--Party

Taking a cab to Merriweather Towers is expensive, but in my silver dress, I am afraid to take the subway. I’m afraid I might get harassed. So I splurge on the taxicab ride. On the way home, Jeff will be with me, so I won’t have to worry about anyone bothering me.

I am wearing a silver wrap around my shoulders. Not because I am cold, but because Jeff doesn’t like it when I show too much skin. As I get out of the cab, paying the driver, and tucking my handbag under my arm, I am reminded of the Christmas party I attended here last December. I had worn a red dress I’d bought just for the occasion. I remembered thinking I looked pretty nice, but Jeff was out of sorts all night because he did not like the amount of cleavage I was showing. It didn’t seem like a lot to me. In comparison to some of the other women at the party, it was practically nothing, but we did not have a very good time at the party because he was so angry all night long.

I hope he doesn’t mind this dress. He asked me to wear it, after all. The bodice has thin straps, and it shows the tops of my breasts, almost as much as the red dress, but I brought the shawl, just in case.

I am nervous walking into the building. I have sent Jeff a few texts to keep him apprised of my location, but he has not answered any of them. I send him another one, letting him know I’ve arrived. I don’t know where to go once I walk inside. I look around and listen for the sounds of a party, but it’s a large building, and I don’t hear anything.

I see a man behind the counter. He’s on the phone, so I walk over and wait for him to finish. He glances at me and then does a double-take, hanging up the phone quickly. “Yes, miss?” he says, looking below my neck and not in my eyes. I pull the shawl around me a little better. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the party for Merriweather and Associates,” I explain. “My husband is waiting for me there, but I can’t get him to answer my texts.”

“What’s the name?” he asks me.

I am already nervous, and the question confuses me. Does he want to know my name or my husbands? I say, “Thompson,” and he nods, checking a list.

“Julia?” he asks me.

“Yes, that’s me,” I tell him with a smile.

“Sure, sure. Go on up to the thirty-fifth floor,” he says. “That’s where the party is happening.”

“Thank you.” I smile warmly at him and then head to the elevator, pushing the correct button and waiting for the doors to close.

I wonder why I am the only one arriving right now. Jeff said to be here at 7:00, and it’s only five past. Since most people don’t want to be early or exactly on time, I was assuming a lot of people would be getting here at the same time as me, but that isn’t the case, so I am puzzled.

When the doors open at the thirty-fifth floor, it is clear to me that the party has started before 7:00. I am confused and step out into the full swing of people drinking, talking, even some dancing. Trays of drinks and snacks are coming by on the hands of waiters and waitresses dressed in matching uniforms. I look around for Jeff but don’t see him anywhere. I don’t know many other people who work in his office because he hasn’t introduced me to any of them. I look at faces, trying to determine if I recognize any of them, but I don’t.

Until my eyes land on the striking face of a man just a few years older than me, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair. I recognize him immediately and have to look away. Braxton Merriweather, the Chief Executive Officer of Jeff’s company, one of the richest men in the world and the most eligible bachelor in our city, which is saying something. My face turns red just looking at him, he’s so handsome. To think, he had been looking at me! Of course, that’s probably because I am lost and look it.

I spin around a few more times, praying I can find Jeff soon. I am about to give up and pull my phone out one more time when I see my husband leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand, talking to a couple of other guys. They are laughing and carrying on, and it’s clear he’s had lots of drinks. I am wondering what time the party actually started and why he didn’t want me to be there on time.

Since I will not be able to ask him any of those questions without making him angry, and I definitely don’t want to make him angry, I swallow my agitation down and make my way across the room to him, hoping he is in a good mood. I don’t like it when Jeff is upset. It never ends well for me.