Chapter 7
At exactly 7:00 PM, Allison pushed open the heavy, ornate glass doors of Le Bernardin.
She was exhausted. Her feet ached inside her heels, and the stress of the day sat like a physical weight on her shoulders.
She walked to the host stand and gave her name.
The maitre d' nodded respectfully and led her through the hushed, elegant dining room. They walked toward a highly private, dimly lit booth tucked away in the back corner.
Elliot was already there.
He was sitting back against the leather booth, reading a physical copy of the Wall Street Journal.
He had taken off his suit jacket and tie. He was wearing a dark gray cashmere turtleneck that hugged the broad lines of his chest. The soft fabric made him look relaxed, but the sharp, calculating look in his eyes made him seem even more dangerous.
Allison pulled out her chair and sat down.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Allison said, her voice tight. "Traffic on Fifth Avenue was a nightmare."
Elliot slowly lowered the newspaper.
His dark eyes swept over her face. He noticed the slight flush in her cheeks and the frantic rise and fall of her chest from rushing.
He didn't ask her why she was late. He simply raised his hand and signaled the waiter to bring the food.
The first course arrived.
They sat in suffocating silence, the only sound the quiet clinking of silver forks against porcelain plates as they ate the delicate bluefin tuna.
Elliot was the first to break the ice.
"Has the trust fund released the capital?" Elliot asked. His tone was strictly business, completely devoid of any personal interest.
Allison stiffened. She put her fork down.
"Yes," Allison replied cautiously. "The funds hit my account this afternoon. Thank you for your legal cooperation."
Elliot picked up his crystal wine glass. The dark burgundy liquid swirled inside.
He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her face.
"And how is your return to academic life?" Elliot asked, his voice deceptively casual.
Allison's hand jerked. Her knife scraped loudly against the plate.
"It's fine," Allison lied, her throat suddenly dry. "Everything is perfectly smooth."
The corner of Elliot's mouth twitched upward into a microscopic, chilling smirk.
"Really?" Elliot pressed, leaning slightly forward. "What classes are you taking?"
Allison felt a desperate need to vent her frustration. She needed to deflect attention away from her disastrous afternoon.
"I'm taking an Advanced Finance Seminar," Allison complained, rolling her eyes. "And the professor is an absolute nightmare."
The professor in question sat directly across from her. He raised a single, dark eyebrow, silently encouraging her to dig her own grave.
"Is that so?" Elliot murmured, his voice smooth like velvet.
"He's a tyrant," Allison spat out, her anger flaring. "He's an unreasonable, arrogant dictator who gets off on torturing his students. He's a total academic parasite."
Elliot bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud.
"He sounds awful," Elliot agreed, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "A true menace to society. How do you plan to handle this... tyrant?"
Allison grabbed her water glass and took a large gulp.
"I have a mandatory meeting with him tomorrow morning," Allison said, gritting her teeth. "I'm going to go into his office, put on a pathetic face, fake cry if I have to, and apologize until he lets me back in."
Elliot took another slow sip of his wine.
The dark, predatory gleam in his eyes intensified. He was thoroughly enjoying this. He couldn't wait to watch her perform this little show for him tomorrow.
The waiter arrived with the main course.
Elliot reached across the table.
Without asking, he took Allison's plate. He picked up his own steak knife and smoothly, methodically cut her Beef Wellington into perfect, bite-sized pieces.
He slid the plate back in front of her.
Allison stared at the cut meat. A strange, unsettling shiver ran down her spine. The sudden display of intimate, domestic chivalry from this cold-blooded shark felt completely wrong. It made her skin prickle with unease.
The dinner finally ended. Elliot signed the exorbitant bill without looking at the total.
They walked out of the restaurant side by side.
The Manhattan night air hit them like a wall of ice. The wind howled down the avenue.
Allison shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.
Elliot stopped. He took off his heavy wool overcoat.
Before she could protest, he stepped behind her and draped the massive coat over her shoulders. The weight of it settled heavily on her frame.
The coat was completely saturated with his scent. The sharp smell of cedar wood and winter mint instantly filled her lungs.
For a split second, Allison lost her train of thought. Her brain short-circuited at the overwhelming physical proximity.
A sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb. The driver jumped out and opened the rear door.
"Get in," Elliot ordered.
"Are you not coming?" Allison asked, clutching the lapels of his coat.
"No," Elliot said, his face returning to its usual icy mask. "I have a cross-Atlantic conference call to attend, and a massive M&A analysis report to prepare for tomorrow morning."
Allison quickly slipped the coat off her shoulders and handed it back to him.
She climbed into the warm leather backseat of the car. She watched through the tinted window as the Maybach pulled away, leaving Elliot standing alone under the streetlamp.
Suddenly, her phone screen lit up the dark car.
It was a massive block of text from Zoe.
Get back to the dorm RIGHT NOW. We need to talk about your husband. Trevor posted something insane.
Allison's stomach dropped. The lies were starting to catch up with her.
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