A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Fifty-Eight: An Ultimatum

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I tap my fingers impatiently against the table top, watching restaurant goers enjoy their mimosas and laugh over their egg toasts. Brunch seemed like a reasonable time for Claire to meet me. Not for dinner or lunch or even breakfast, but brunch. That was the only time she'd agree to. She also set the place for our meeting—The Edenborough in Beverly Hills. Very upscale eatery; money is dripping from every guest in the room.

Claire, who had me make the reservation, texted me and told me she would be a little late the moment I walked into the restaurant. At that point, I knew she was messing with me. But I don't mind indulging in her childish antics. The fact that she agreed to meet with me is progress enough.

"Can I get you started with something to drink, miss King?" the server asks me.

"Some mimosas for me and my guest who's arriving shortly. I'm still looking over the menu."

She smiles. "Take your time. I'll bring those mimosas back for you right away."

She leaves, and the moment she leaves the dining room, I see a familiar head of red hair at the host's desk. The host then begins to walk Claire over to where I'm sitting. Claire garners a few looks as she walks by, most likely from people recognizing her but also from her beauty; I can't deny that she's a stunning young woman, walking through the restaurant in her expensive fur coat and designer boots. I hate how this fact affects me so deeply, especially with being seven years her senior. I wonder what the world would think if I were in Claire's place? Would I be held up at the same high standard? Would I be seen as worthy enough to be Sebastian Harrison's companion as Claire is seen?

I stand up when she approaches the table in an attempt to be cordial. She doesn't even bother to smile at me or shake my hand. In fact, she says nothing as she sits down across from me. I don't let it get too me; I have to devote my attention to the reason why I invited her here in the first place, secretly, at that; it's only a matter of time before the paparazzi catches wind of Claire's presence here.

"Thank you for coming," I tell her, an ounce of gratefulness in my tone.

"You're welcome." She takes off her coat, setting it behind her chair. "You look nice."

The condescension is evident in her voice. I don't bother conjuring up a response in fear of entertaining her insult.

Our server returns with champagne in a bucket of ice and a glass jar of orange juice right beside it, wine glasses around the rim of the platter she's holding. She sets everything down on the table, pours the champagne in the glass; two glasses after Claire obliges.

"Are you ready to order?" she asks when she pours the last of the orange juice into Claire's glass.

I decide on eggs benedict, while Claire gets the same thing to avoid complication. Our server then takes our menus and puts our orders in. Claire and I sit in silence for a moment, looking around the restaurant at the other guests instead of at each other. I give it fifteen minutes before paparazzi start flocking outside; I should make this quick.

"So," she begins, sipping her mimosa. "Your assistant's call to my manager made it seem like this meeting was really important. And you requested that it be just me and you, too?"

I nod. "I know it was a last-minute call, and I know that the request to make it a more 'personal' meeting must have been a little odd, but there's a reason behind all of this. Trust me."

Claire leans back in her chair, a smirk lining her rose-tinted lips. "I'm listening."

I take a generous drink of my mimosa before beginning. "I wanted to apologize for the way things ended between us. After Thanksgiving, we should have talked about what happened; I feel as if I disregarded your feelings and that wasn't okay, especially since I've made some 'unwise' decisions on my part."