Page 21 of Shattered Sinner
I ignored my mother’s message, but I added Tristan’s number to my phone and reread his message so I could compose a response.
Me: I love Italian. What time were you thinking?
Tristan: How about La Trattoria? I’ll pick you up at 7:30 on Friday. The weather should be clear by then.
Holy shit. My heart raced as I processed what he said. La Trattoria was one of the newest restaurants in town and was hard to get reservations to. I didn’t really want him to pick me up from my apartment because if I drove my own car, I could have my own way of getting back.
Then again, I had access to car services, but it would make things a bit more difficult because I’d have to wait, and I didn’t know this man at all. Better to be safe than sorry, and it would also give me an excuse not to drink. Being out with him, I’m sure we’d be offered alcohol even though I was underage, and it wasn’t something I wanted to risk.
Even if the urge to drink was staring me in the face right now in the privacy of my own apartment.
Me: I will meet you there in time for the reservation.
That was final, leaving no room for him to argue with me.
Fuck it.
I gave up on fighting the temptation and walked into my kitchen to get a glass of wine. I tore the cork out of the bottle with my teeth. It took me mere seconds to get the wine into a glass and bring it to my lips.
As I was sipping my wine, I couldn’t help but wonder what Tristan got out of all of this. From what I’d seen, I couldn’t imagine Tristan having an issue with dating, so what did he get by being in a fake engagement and potentially married to me?
Speaking of, my phone vibrated once more, and I saw that it was from him.
Tristan: Okay, see you then.
Crisis averted.
But there was still one issue I needed to deal with.
I didn’t feel the need to say another word to Tristan, but I did start typing a message to my mother.
Me: Dinner with Tristan is this Friday, weather permitting. Do with that what you will.
I turned my phone on silent and picked up both it and my wineglass to bring them back to my couch. I couldn’t deny that I was happy to have the snow day where, although I still had work that I needed to do, at least I could be by myself to mentally prepare for this dinner.
* * *
My mind racedas I glanced at myself one more time before I needed to be out of my apartment to be on time for this “date.” The red dress and pumps weren’t exactly appropriate for the weather, but with a long coat and hopefully some sort of valet, it would make this evening slightly easier.
The team my mom hired to pull this off had more than done their job, and I barely recognized myself. It was such a difference from the typical look I went with. They’d gone with an eyeshadow that made my blue eyes stand out even more. Although they wanted to, I’d declined the use of fake eyelashes because, while I’ve worn them to high profile dinners, I didn’t want to be paranoid that one would fall off during this dinner. I double-checked the red lipstick I was wearing and made sure that the high, intricate bun they’d thrown my blonde hair into still looked perfect. It did make me look more sophisticated than I’d had outside of some of the dinners I attended with my parents.
I reminded myself repeatedly that I needed to keep my guard up in order to protect myself from whatever Tristan might say or do. This man was a complete stranger, and I wasn’t sure what he was capable of. I grabbed the long black coat that I was planning on wearing, picked up the matching black purse that included everything I needed for the night, and walked out of my apartment.
Thankfully, La Trattoria was only about twenty to twenty-five minutes away from my place, so the drive there wasn’t bad. The snow in Brentson had gone from looking pretty on the ground, making it look like a beautiful winter wonderland, to being discolored due to city life. It was to be expected, and I knew we’d have more snow at some point this year to replace the beauty that was lost.
As I stepped out of my car and approached the restaurant, I couldn’t help but admire the scene in front of me. The scent of garlic and tomatoes greeted me. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves.
It was easy to see why La Trattoria was the talk of Brentson right now, even looking from the outside. It blended classic and contemporary elements together, including the beautiful stonework that was designed in such a way that made it look modern. The restaurant’s name was displayed in a very elegant script that was softly lit from behind the sign.
As I stepped inside the restaurant, I noticed how perfectly the interior blended rustic charm with a modern elegance. The exposed brick contained art that was stunning, and I couldn’t help but wonder who’d designed the pieces.
I walked up to the podium and told the hostess I was a part of Tristan Whitmore’s party. She gave me a wide smile and walked me toward a table that was in a secluded part of the restaurant. I wondered if that was done by chance or by design.
I wasn’t surprised to find that Tristan was already there.
This was it. The moment of truth.
Without a doubt in my mind, I knew this evening was bound to get very interesting.
