Forever Black (4 page)

“Fine,
one cup and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He
walked back to the kitchen and put the cup on the island. He drank his cocktail
and frowned the entire time. It was fun to watch the disgusted look on his
face. He leaned over the counter and looked at me.

“Why
on earth would you help me like that? What if I was a rapist or murderer?”

I
laughed, “You couldn’t rape or murder me even if you wanted to. You were so far
gone last night; I could barely get you home.” He ran one hand through his hair.

“You
should not be doing those kinds of things; it is not safe in this city for a
girl to be doing shit like that.” He seemed agitated.

I
leaned my elbow on the counter, rested my hand on my cheek, and looked at him
intently as he lectured me. He stopped what he was saying and narrowed his eyes
at me, “Are you even listening to me?”

I
laughed as I got up from the stool, “Thanks for the coffee, but I must go now; I
need to get home.” I grabbed my purse and started walking out of the kitchen.

“Have
a lovely day Mr. Black and next time don’t drink so much.” I could hear his
footsteps following behind.

“Would
you mind telling me your name?” The elevator doors opened; I stepped in and
turned to face him.

“It’s
Ellery Lane,” I yelled as the door began to close.

I
stepped out into the bright sunlight and looked up at the sky. I smiled as I
waited for the cab to come. I kept thinking about Connor, his dumb rule about
woman staying the night, and the way he looked. There was something about him
that made my stomach flutter. I could not stop thinking about his tone and how
angry it was when he first saw me. I guess I couldn’t blame him though; I’d
probably be the same way if a strange man was in my apartment when I woke up.

I
walked through the door of my apartment, threw my purse down and took a hot
bath. I was exhausted, and I desperately needed some sleep. I craved the
comfort of my pajamas and bed. I texted Peyton to let her know I was going to
take a nap, and I’d call her when I woke up. If I didn’t text her, she would
probably call or come over, and I just wanted to be alone tonight. I looked at
the clock, and it was 3 pm. I had a plan to sleep till 5 pm, make a quick
dinner and do some painting.

I
was startled by a knock at the door. I looked at the clock, and it was 5:30.
Shit, I slept longer than I wanted to. I got up and headed towards the door.

“Peyton,
I said I would call you when…” I flung the door open and to my surprise it was
not Peyton, but a young man holding a small white envelope.

“Are
you Ellery Lane?” he asked. Suddenly, I got nervous; he sounded serious.

“Yes,”
I’m Ellery Lane.

He
handed me the envelope, “This is for you.”

I
took the envelope from his hand. He smiled and walked away. My stomach started
to tie itself in knots. I didn’t know what to expect to find in the envelope,
and who was sending me something anyway?

I
slid my finger across the top and took out the piece of neatly folded paper
that was tucked inside, it read,
“Miss Lane, I am going to properly thank
you for your services last night, I will be waiting for you at Le Sur
Restaurant. My driver will pick you up promptly at 7:00 pm.”

 Connor Black

First
of all, how did he know my address and second of all, why the hell is he so
bossy? I should have had that creeper feeling, but for some reason I didn’t. I
quickly put it out of my mind when I saw he wants to have dinner at Le Sur.

Since
Kyle and I moved here, we have never been able to get into that restaurant.
People book months in advance. I called Peyton immediately.

“Hey
girl, what’s up?”

“Remember
that guy I helped home last night?”

“Y.e.a.h….”

“He
wants to thank me for helping him, so he is sending his driver over to pick me
up to meet him at Le Sur at 7:00.

“What?”
she screamed into the phone. “Elle, who is this guy?”

“His
name is Connor Black.”

I
heard her gasp, “Are you fucking kidding me Elle? Do you know who Connor Black
is?” I frowned and twisted my face.

“No,
should I?”

“Do
you live in a bubble or something? Connor Black is the CEO of Black
Enterprises. He is a 30-year-old mega millionaire who took over his father’s
company when he was 28. OMG Elle, he’s hot, and he’s rich, and he wants to take
you to dinner?” I could hear the excitement in her voice.

“Peyton,
first of all I’m not interested in any guy. I’m in the guy free zone, especially
after what Kyle did to me. This man Connor Black is rude, bossy and does not
have an ounce of respect for women.” I didn’t want to tell her what he said to
me about his rules earlier in the day.

“He
can be Elle, he’s rich and hot.”

I
rolled my eyes at that last comment and told her goodbye. I didn’t feel like
going out tonight and I wanted to do some painting, but it was Le Sur and I’ve
been dying to go there, so I made an exception.

I
rummaged through my closet trying to find something to wear. I pulled out a
black dress that I wore to a friend’s wedding a couple of years ago. It was
simple with spaghetti straps and a v neck. I put on some light makeup and wore
my hair half up, letting the loose curls from the back cascade around my shoulders.
I threw some gloss on my lips and looked at the clock, it was 6:58. I checked
myself out in the mirror one last time and headed out the door.

Sitting
at the curb was a black limousine with a man leaning up against it. “Miss Lane,
I presume?”

“Yes,
I’m Ellery Lane,” I smiled as he opened the door and helped me inside. I took
in the comfort and plushness of the Limo. I felt like a princess on her way to
the ball. I looked to the front where the driver was sitting.

“Excuse
me, but what’s your name?”

He
looked at me in the rearview mirror, “Denny, ma’am.”

“Nice
to meet you Denny; is Mr. Black always so bossy?” I politely asked.

He
smiled and shook his head, “Mr. Black is used to getting whatever he wants.” I
rolled my eyes and looked out the window, of course he does.

I
walked into the restaurant and up to the desk where a tall redheaded woman
asked if she could help me.

“I’m
meeting Mr. Black,” I answered. Instantly her eyes looked like daggers as she
said, “Follow me.” The razor eyed redhead led me towards the back of the
restaurant to the table where Connor was seated. He saw us coming and stood up.
He walked over and pulled out my chair. Ok, so far he has some manners.

“Good
evening Miss Lane, I’m glad you decided to join me.”

I
wanted to tell him that I was only here to experience the restaurant and that
if he had chosen anywhere else, I would not have attended. I sat in my chair as
he walked over to his.

He
wore an extremely expensive dark gray suit. His sun-kissed skin glistened more
than I remembered from this morning and his hair was perfectly styled in the
tousled way that was hot.

“Good
evening Mr. Black, thank you for inviting me, but it really was not necessary
and please call me Elle.”

He
looked at me intently, “Isn’t your name Ellery?”

I
took a sip of water, “Yes, but my friends call me Elle.”

He
took his menu and opened it, and I was astounded by the next words that came
out of his mouth.

“But
we are not friends Ellery.”

Ok,
I take back the whole man has manners thing, he is just downright rude.

I
opened up my menu. “Alright then Mr. Black, why don’t we just stick to Miss Lane?”
I saw him slightly grin from behind the menu.

“Order
anything you like, it looks like you have not eaten in weeks.” I looked sternly
at him.

“I
eat every day Mr. Black, not that it is any of your concern.” He suddenly
looked intrigued as he set his menu down.

“It’s
just you are very thin.”

 What
the fuck is this man’s problem. First, he says we are not friends; then he
calls me anorexic.

“This
is the way I was born; I’ve always been thin.”

He
pressed his lips together as the waiter came to the table with a bottle of
Pinot Grigio. He poured the wine in each glass and proceeded to take our order.
I looked at Connor as he sat there staring at me; it was making me intensely
uncomfortable, but turning me on at the same time. My heart started to beat
rapidly, and a familiar ache rose from down below. Two can play this game.

“So,
what’s your story Mr. Black?” He brought his wine glass to his lips and took a
sip, never taking his eyes off me.

“My
story?” he simply asked.

A
small smile escaped my lips, “Yes, your story.”

“What’s
to tell, I’m a 30 year old CEO, I have more money than I will ever need; I do
not do relationships; I usually get everything I want, and I do whatever I
want.” I sat there staring at him the entire time he boasted about himself.

“Now,
that we got that out of the way, what’s your story Miss Lane?”

“I
don’t have a story Mr. Black; I’m 23 years old; I moved here with my boyfriend
a little over a year ago; I work part-time at a small record company; I paint
pictures, and I volunteer at the soup kitchen.”

He
sat and pondered whether or not he wanted to ask me the next question. “What
does your boyfriend think about you having dinner with me?”

“He
doesn’t, we aren’t together anymore. He moved out almost 3 weeks ago,” I looked
down at the table.

I
could sense a tiny bit of sympathy in his voice, “Oh, may I ask how long you
were together?” I found it particularly odd that he was trying to get so
personal.

“We
were together 4 years; we met at college and moved here from Michigan.”

He
raised his eyebrows, “4 years are a serious length of time.” I decided just to
lay it all out there for him since he seemed so interested; it didn’t matter
anyway I probably would never see him again after tonight.

“Yep,
came home from work one day and said he needed space, packed his bags and
walked out.” I knew the real reason he left, but I was not about to tell Connor
that.

He
struggled with his next words, and it caught me by surprise.

 “I’m
sorry he did that to you.”

I
waved my hand in front of my face. “Don’t be, nothing lasts forever.”

 He
was taken aback by my choice of words, but it was the truth and I wasn’t afraid
to say it.

Le
Sur was just as beautiful as I thought it would be. The ambiance was breathtaking
with its low lighting and romantic feel. The marble floors were exquisite as
were the paintings that hung on the walls representing Paris. The tables were
lined with satin cloths, and the meals served were on delicate china.

“Do
you like it here?” Connor asked as he noticed me looking around.

“Yes,
it is a beautiful restaurant,” I smiled.

The
waiter brought our meal as Connor was about to ask me a question. “You say you
volunteer at the soup kitchen, may I ask why?” The look on his face told me
that he was a bit intrigued by it.

I
took my fork and knife and cut up my chicken as I proceeded to answer his
question.

“I
like to help people in need; you should know that by now Mr. Black.”

He
shook his head, “Yes, it was a dumb question to ask?”

“I
had a rough childhood and let’s just say nobody was there to help me.” His eyes
never left mine; he listened to every word I said closely.

“What
about your parents? They did not help you?” I looked down and away from him,
trying to find the right words.

“My
mother died of cancer when I was six, and my father was an alcoholic who passed
away right before my eighteenth birthday.”

The
look on his face changed; it went from hard to soft in a matter of seconds.

“Is
that why you helped me last night because you think I’m an alcoholic?” he
asked. I took the last bite of my dinner and set down my fork.

“No,
my father choked to death on his vomit during one of his drunken nights. I
found him dead in his bed the next morning. I didn’t want that same fate for
you. What people do not realize is how easy it is for something like that to
happen. I spent my entire life taking care of my father who absurdly drank
himself into oblivion almost every night because he couldn’t get over my
mother’s death, so it is just second nature for me to help people.”

He
didn’t know what to say; I think I shocked him. He held up his glass and
motioned me to do the same.

“Well,
thank you for your help last night, as mad as I was this morning to find you
standing in my kitchen, I do appreciate it.”