ACT III: CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

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A/N: Double update this week! I had the day off and was able to polish 2 chapters over the weekend.


I only had one good suit, the Gieves & Hawkes suit the company paid for that I wore to every formal function. I showered and dressed quickly, parting my hair neatly to the side and tucking it behind my ear. Alex was waiting for me in the car. I didn't know where he was taking me but it didn't matter, I trusted his taste implicitly.

As I was leaving I paused and picked up the ribbon tie Harry had left in my flat after our first night together. The gold thread caught the light and shimmered prettily in my palm. I didn't know whether to kiss it or rip it to shreds. I tied it around my wrist. At the very least it would serve as a reminder not to get tangled up with him again.

Alex was outside smoking when I got downstairs. He stomped out his cigarette and opened the car door. Leaning back on the black leather seats, he checked the tag on my jacket. "Gieves & Hawkes." He smiled. "I danced for the Royal Ballet for six years before I went to Paris. In the old days we used to joke that the only thing more important than a good audition was being able to fill out a Gieves & Hawkes suit!"

I tugged my lapels. "How am I doing?"

"Just fine."

We drove past Grosvenor chapel on South Audley Street in Mayfair. I still had no idea where we were going, until we turned onto Park Lane and pulled up to the Dorchester. Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester was one of the most expensive restaurants in London, with three Michelin stars. I knew he would take me to a nice restaurant but this was more than nice. Only the city's elite dined here and even they had to wait months for a reservation.

The main floor of the restaurant was bathed in gold light that matched the small flash of gold on my wrist. I soon learned that we wouldn't be dining on the main floor. There were three private dining rooms: Table Lumière, Salon Park Lane, and Salon Privé, the most intimate of the three.

Alex said something in French to the waiter and the portly man led us to Salon Privé. It was darker in there than the main floor, the only source of light a fireplace in the corner. The thick button-tufted walls drowned out the sound of the other diners. It was so quiet I could hear the squeak of Alex cleaning his glasses on his handkerchief.

I looked around for a menu when Alex said softly, "I took the liberty of ordering ahead. I hope you like French cuisine."

"I'll love whatever you've chosen. Your taste is exquisite."

He'd ordered us the menu dégustation, the tasting menu, which consisted of seven courses, and a vintage bottle of Clos De La Roche for 1,300 quid. It was the most money anyone had ever paid for a bottle of wine in my presence. I was afraid to drink it but I did. It was delectable.

"This is too much, Sir."

He topped off my glass. "Oh come now, you're my favorite. Let me spoil you!"

The first course was Dorset crab, celeriac and caviar.

I pulled apart the crab carefully with my fork and knife, while Alex discussed the possibility of him taking up a permanent post with the Royal Ballet as resident choreographer.

It was such an honor to be here with him in such an incredible place, and he'd obviously gone out of his way, but my mind was still on Harry. I couldn't let myself be happy after the way Harry had disappointed me.

Alex noticed I was down. He touched his cloth napkin to his lips before draping it across his lap again. "Cheer up! I hate seeing you so sad. You've always had such a pleasant disposition. It's what I love about you."

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