Diamonds Are Not Forever

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Juliette

I shuffled uncomfortably in the clothes Elliot had given me to wear as I slid in the booth of the cafe. He'd magicked up a pair of black leggings and a basic black polo shirt that were a size smaller than I'd hoped for. More importantly, they were women's clothes. I hadn't yet mustered the courage to confront him about why he had women's clothes at his disposal in his apartment. Not that it was any of my business anyway.

Elliot looked so out of place in the cafe, it was so kitschy with its red vinyl booths and a chalk board menu above the counter that had hand drawn pictures of food items with smiley faces on them. In contrast to his designer suit and expensive watch, it was a comical sight.
I wasn't the only one taking in the sight that was Elliot Truman, our waitress had spotted him too. Her jaw practically on the floor as she approached our table with two large laminated menus in hand.
"Hello, I'm Tracie your waitress." She spoke only to Elliot as she placed a menu down in front of the both of us. "Our breakfast menu is on the front and all the specials are listed on the board behind you. I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order, if you need anything in the meantime please...don't hesitate to call me over."
As Tracie made her speech, her cheeks turning pinker by the second, Elliot dismissed her completely as he scanned the menu like it was the most captivating thing he'd ever read.
After a few too many awkward seconds of silence, I cleared my throat and thanked her. She turned on her heels and slinked away, not hesitating to shoot a glance over her shoulder at the Adonis  sat before me.
Was he unaware of the effect he had on women? Probably not. But he didn't pander to it, it seemed.
"It surprises me that you like this place." I commented casually, running my eyes over the different options the menu had to offer. I still didn't intend on ordering anything, but it was the better choice between pretending to choose a meal or be caught gawking at Elliot the way the waitress had.
Elliot looked up from his own menu, a small smile played on his lips. "Really? Where would you think I'd like?"
"I dunno..." Somewhere upmarket and ridiculously expensive. "The Ivy, maybe?"
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Yes, but the Ivy doesn't have bacon so crispy you could crack a tooth on it."
A giggle escaped my mouth and Elliot's eyes lit up. In that brief moment, I got a glimpse of a softer and more carefree Elliot. He reminded me of  his brother Frankie, the same crinkle of a smile around his gloriously blue eyes.
"You like crispy bacon?" I asked. He was a man full of surprises.
"Don't you?"
My stomach betrayed me with a low rumbling growl, one that Elliot heared, because his uncharacteristically high spirits faltered immediately.
"What are you going to order?" He moved his gaze back to the menu in his hand, his mouth set into a firmer line.
"Nothing. I'm really not hungry." I lied.
The daggers that hurtled towards me from his stare would have been enough to slice me open on the spot. "You're eating something Juliette, wether you like it or not. So you can either pick something off of the menu or I'll order something for you. Your choice."
I didn't have a choice though, did I.
Cause I didn't want to eat in front of him at all, and he clearly wasn't going to let that happen, no matter how hard I protested.
I started to sulk as I sunk lower into my side of the booth. "I don't usually have breakfast..."
My mum always told me I could never let anyone get the last word in over me in an argument, and didn't realise until that moment that she was right.
Elliot practically threw  his menu down on the table, his other hand clenched in a fist by his side. "Enough, Juliette. You. Will. Eat." Each word that crossed his lips was like a swear. His voice remained scarily low as his brows furrowed on his face. Despite the dull tone of his words, it still felt  like he'd screamed them from the top of his lungs.
As I opened my mouth to reply, I was cut off by a much more confident looking Tracie. Her cheeks were a lighter shade of pink, at least.
"So, what can I get you?" She held out her note pad and pen in front of her, her body going rigid as Elliot flashed the most brilliant (an obviously fake) smile in her direction. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him.
"I'd like the Breakfast Medley, and she'll have the bagel with cream cheese."
Tracie stuttered her words out, the pen remained suspended in mid air above the surface of the pad. "A-and a-anything to drink?"
"A pot of black coffee and an orange juice." Elliot didn't look in my direction once as he ordered on my behalf. If he had, he would have found me scowling so hard at him that the deep creases of my forehead threatened to permanently remain etched into my face.
Tracie audibly gulped as she lost herself in the fantasy of Elliot, she didn't seem to care that he hadn't said please or thank you once in his order.
Don't excuse his bad manners just because of his pretty face, I screamed internally.
Elliot cleared his throat as his eyes darkened. "Aren't you supposed to be writing this down?" His tone was clipped, snapping the waitress from her eye fucking as she breathed an apology, scribbled something down on her note pad, before practically running in the direction of the kitchen without another word.
This man is a rollercoaster.
Up and down, in a never ending loop. Thats what it felt like being in his presence.
My mind drifted back to the first night we met, only weeks before - but it felt like a lifetime had passed. I remembered what it felt like to be on the dance floor with him, cautious of his motives and sill fuming from his previous comments.
'You were lucky someone strong enough to catch you was around.'
It had cut through to my insecurities like a knife. One sentence. That's all it was, but it had confirmed the deepest and darkest feelings I had about myself to be true. In a world where, as a plus sized woman, you had to be seen to be body positive, I hid my self loathing beneath a thin layer of bubbly personality and false confidence in my outfit choices. But at my core, I felt ugly in my skin. And Elliot had confirmed as much.
I'd resigned myself to being the ugly fat friend a long time ago, but it still stung every time a guy brushed past me to get to Ashley. Or when they would talk to me for hours, only to ask me for her number...
Even with Frankie, he had flirted and payed me attention that night in On The Rox, only to end up with Ashley. I didn't want Frankie Truman, but he proved my point perfectly - even if he hadn't intended to.
The sound of glass rattling woke me from my spiral.
Tracie was back in no time at all, our drinks perfectly balanced on the tray resting on her forearm. She carefully placed the pot of coffee down, followed by a mug and Elliot's orange juice, then disappeared once more.
"You've gone quiet."  Elliot stated the obvious. "Say something."
"You're an arse." My boldness shocked me. But it didn't seem to shock Elliot one bit. He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he leant back in his seat, picking up the jug of steaming coffee and pouring some out into the empty mug, before pushing it across the table towards me. "Maybe. But as of last night, I'm also your Fiancé."
My throat closed up slightly at his words.
"You haven't officially proposed so..." I reached for the coffee cup, needing something to occupy my hands before I bit every last nail off my fingers out of anxiety. "Technically we're dating?"
"You want me to officially ask you to marry me?"
"Yes."
I felt stupid. This was a fake engagement, and it would be a fake marriage. But every girl wants a proper proposal, even if the reason for getting engaged in the first place is...unorthodox.
If people needed to believe our 'whirlwind romance' was real, and going by the Agreement Elliot had drafted up - they did, then we would have to make it as believable as possible.
Elliot considered what I'd said, he ran his finger over the length of his sharp jawline as his brows furrowed in thought whilst mindlessly staring at glass of fresh orange juice set before him. Then, he quickly switched his gaze back to me. "Okay."
"Okay?" That's it?
Elliot continued. "I'll propose to you, at the Golden Gifts Project Gala. Everyone will be there to witness it, specifically my parents will be there. So it will make it look more realistic if we-" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "-dated each other until then."
All the moisture left my mouth. The Gala was 4 weeks away...
"One Breakfast Medley and one cream cheese bagel." An unfamiliar male voice croaked as two plates were placed down in front of us. When I dragged my eyes away from Elliot, I found not the red faced Tracie I'd expected - but a middle aged balding guy who's apron was covered in various food stains from the kitchen. Tracie must have been hiding in the back, I wondered if I could join her.
"Thank you." My voice was barely audible. Our new waiter didn't linger like the last one, he was quick to leave us alone again as I reeled in my side of the booth.
I only had a few weeks until Elliot would propose. That was no time at all. Not enough time to convince my mum why I was getting married so suddenly and so young. She was going to freak the fuck out, and I couldn't even tell her the reasons why I was doing what I was doing because of the NDA.
This is for Milo.
And Ashley, how would she react? She'd told me herself about Elliot's reasons for seeking us both out that night in the club, how he'd slept with me only to get to her. She'd call me a fool. She would be right, because what I was doing was foolish.
Elliot's phone rang loudly in his pocket, he didn't hesitate to answer it.
"Rebecca. Yes, tell Mr Truman I will be in the office within the hour." His eyes never left mine as he spoke, two giant pools of ice piercing through to my soul as he mouthed the word 'eat' and pushed my plate closer towards me.
My stomach finally gave way to my protest, Elliot's expression softening a fraction as he watched me take a small bite of my bagel out of the corner of his eye. When he looked down at his watch, then out through the large glass windows of the cafe, I allowed myself to take bigger bites - not bothering to fully chew as the delicious breakfast tamed the beast growling in my stomach.
"Did you make the transfer? Good. I'd like a run down of my meetings for today."
I could have watched Elliot talk into his phone for hours as I wolfed down the last few bits of my bagel, insecurities be damned.
I'd come to terms with the fact that Elliot was a beautiful looking man, actually - the word beautiful didn't even cover it. The way his strong jaw moved as he spoke, his straight and refined nose, his perfectly tanned skin...
A notification dinged from my own phone in my bag. Mindlessly, I pulled it out and clicked into the notification from my banking app. When I read the screen, I froze.

Balance: £20,281.31

I started to choke on my last mouth full of food, the cream cheese closing my throat up, making me unattractively gasp for air like a woman starved.
Elliot's eyes bulged in his head as he spun around to assess where the ghastly noise was coming from. When he realised it was coming from me, and that I was choking, he practically expired on the spot. "Shit! Rebecca, I need to go."
In seconds, Elliot had hung up on his call and slid next to me in the booth. His large hand spread between my shoulder blades before pulling back and crashing down a handful of forceful blows, jolting me forward against he table. After a few gasps for air, my airways started to clear and tears sprung to my eyes.
"Are you okay?" He asked when my coughing died down, his back pats easing into softer and smoother strokes along the top of my neck.
I couldn't speak, still recovering from the shock and lack of oxygen, so I just nodded my head.
"Here, drink this." He pulled the glass of orange juice towards us and held it up to my lips, his other hand all the while still placed firmly on my back.
I wanted to tell him I was fine, that I could look after myself. But I was glad of his care, the orange juice was delicious and just enough to clear my throat completely.
"Thank you." I croaked, taking the glass from him so I could  take a drink it without his assistance.
"What happened?" Elliot's face was etched with concern as his eyes pinned me to my seat.
"I choked on my bagel." It wasn't a lie, that was what happened. But I'd really only choked on my bagel because he had deposited a small fortune into my bank account. I'd not even given him my card details...
I was about to confront him on that point when he reached up and brushed one of the stray tears from my face, his thumb grazing my cheek as the contact sent electric bolts down my spine. Then he just held me there, his hand cupping my chin and tilting my head up a fraction so I could meet his gaze more easily, his height towered over my body in the booth.
Elliot's face flashed a reel of emotions. Concern, weariness and something else I couldn't put my finger on.
He was so close, it overwhelmed my senses.
The heat on my cheek from his hand, the smell of his expensive aftershave, the perfect curve of his lips as they inched closer to my own. I couldn't help it, I let my eyes flutter closed as I waited patiently for the feel of his kiss, all thoughts of bank deposits and choking long forgotten.
When the contact never came, I opened my eyes again and found Elliot watching me carefully.
"We need to go." Yet another Elliot Truman command, only this one had less conviction than the others I'd experienced.
"But, you haven't eaten your breakfast." My voice was breathy and pathetic sounding.
His eyes darted to the full plate of bacon, eggs and toast that were sat untouched. Suddenly, the warmth of his proximity retreated from me as he slid out of the booth and straightened out the creases in his suit.
The moment had well and truly died a death.
"You will be late for work. Come."
I sighed heavily and did as I was told, following him out of the booth as the afterglow of his touch still burned on my face.
Yet another almost kiss, I didn't know how many more I could take.
Elliot settled the bill and I trailed after him out of the cafe in a daze, shooting his untouched breakfast a second glance over my shoulder as Tracie emerged from behind the counter and started to clear our plates away.
Ashley was so right. It was very much 'do as I say and not as I do' when it came to the enigma that was Elliot Truman.