Chapter 7

The buzz of my phone dragged me out of sleep. Grabbing it, I answered with an incoherent gurgle.

"Ava? Are you alright? It's Tom." Confusion spread through me. Shooting a glance at my alarm clock, I realized it was dead. Oh no!

"Am I late? Fuck! Sorry Tom, my alarm didn't go off!" I pleaded, throwing myself of the bed. Tom chuckled down the line.

"It's alright, kiddo. I wouldn't have called, but Braxton Sullivan is here for you." My boss quipped, curiosity echoing. Before I could answer, the phone rattled signally an exchange of hands. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself.

"Miss Huxley. Did you sleep well?"

"You want to know how I slept?" I stammered.

"It wasn't my original intent, but it would seem I woke you." He said with an air of damnation. Truth be told, I was pissed at myself. Until today, I had never arrived late to work once. Ready to fix my mistake, I got to the point.

"What can I do for you, Mr Sullivan?"

"Hmm, a loaded question," he drawled. "But for now accompanying me to dinner will suffice."

"Dinner?" I repeated. Wha... He wanted to go to dinner? Like a date? "Are you asking me out?" Immediately after saying it, a hand covered my face and embarrassment set in. I swear sometimes my brain to mouth filter abandoned me.

"No, Ava. I don't go out. Not the way you're thinking, anyway."

I was sold. If for no other reason then to find out what that meant. His cryptic response had piqued my curiosity and it wasn't going anywhere. Hanging up, I rushed to get dressed. It stalled my progress considerably. What ever I chose had to be suitable for a day of work, and then dinner. With a pang I remembered how Viv always helped me in these situations, but quickly stored it away. I hadn't seen or heard from Viv or Nathan since she lost her shit at me. Not a single phone call, text, or email. Nothing from the people who had all but raised me. A deep breath later, I settled on a plain black dress. Michaela had always said "when in doubt, go black and go classic". Doing my best to remember more of Michaela's Rules to Life and Fashion, I slid on a nude heel and black blazer.

Forty minutes later I walked through the doors to SullTech, still pissed I missed my alarm. There was a good chance that now half the work I did last night would be useless. Majority of the morning was spent busting my ass to catch up, even going so far as to work through lunch, and by midafternoon we were back on track. Tom spent the day making off-handed remarks about my visitor this morning but surprisingly, kept it to himself. I had half expected barrel tons of questions from my co-workers about Braxton, but they never came. It was a relief not to be probed and prodded about what was going on, seeing as I was in the dark myself. And antsy.

When 5:30 rolled around, my stomach was fluttering. How I was supposed to hold down a meal was a mystery, but I was going to give it a shot. It was tempting to stay an extra few minutes, so I wasn't waiting around in the lobby. I had already been late once today though, not a habit I wanted to get into, so I made my way downstairs. The entire trip was spent finger combing my hair and fussing over my dress. Undoubtedly he was going to look glorious, hardly ruffled from a day running a multimillion dollar company, while I had started the day frazzled.

My mouth fell slack when I finally saw him leaning against the lobby wall. Dressed in a dark grey suit and black shirt, he looked spectacular. His hair was in its usual ruffled style, sticking out in all directions. A slight shadow on his jaw added definition to his face, lending it a hard edge. He could've sold sex to a Nun.

"Ava, you look lovely." He said stiffly, reaching for my hand.

"Thank you." I replied quietly, enjoying the soft feel of his hand.

The ride to the restaurant was quite. Again, Braxton seemed very tense. I don't know what was eating at him – it could be anything, but this evening would be very long if this was setting the tone. He was sitting behind the driver, starting out the window and brooding, effectively ignoring me. I was fidgeting on my seat, running my hands over the soft leather and picking at my finger nails. The dark tint of the window gave relative anonymity, but the SUV had an air of importance. You may not know who was inside, but you could immediately tell they were a somebody.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, we arrived. It was a cute little establishment. Set aside from the busier areas, it had a family vibe and looked very Italian. Braxton held my hand as we found our table, squeezing my hand before sitting down. It was a recurring thing, and a sweet one at that, but there was always an edge to it. He was holding my hand, but it always felt like more than that. Possessive. Seated at our small table, I made the mistake of looking up to his eyes. Like a vacuum, they pulled me in and it wasn't until the waitress arrived that I was about to look away.

"Welcome to La Vecchia. Here are your menu's. Can I get you something to drink?" The young girl said with a practiced smile. Braxton looked to me in question, so I smiled back at the waitress.

"A still water would be great, thanks."

"Make that two," He said, sparing a glance for the young girl who had been sending longing looks his way.

Taking her leave with a bounce, I was once again alone with Mr Tense. Waiting for him to make conversation was becoming tiresome, so I looked over the menu. I was still biting at the bit to find out what his cryptic line on the phone had been, but apparently he was in no hurry. Outings with Viv had taught me the basic ins and outs of Italian food, so I was able to distinguish a few of the plates for what they were. So many delightful choices, yet I was still tossing up between lasagna and spaghetti bolognese. Such a sucker for the classics.

"Tell me about yourself." He said, head tilted to the side. Looking up from the menu and chewing my cheek, I thought it over. It hadn't been a question. The more time I spent with Mr Sullivan, the more I was realizing he was much more a commander than an inquirer.

"What do you want to know?" The side of caution was always my ally in this game and tonight was no different.

"You grew up with Nathan."

"That's not a question."

"Why?" So, he was certainly getting straight to the point. This question, the one I hated most, was normally easy enough to avoid. Given my age, people assumed I had moved out of home. It was only those who knew Nathan and I collectively that had any reason to think differently. Braxton fell in that category.

"I was raised by my Grandparents. Nathan is only a little older than me and we grew up together, so when they died he became my guardian."

"Where were your parents?" I had tried to dodge it, but eventually this was the line it always came down to. Most people would beat around the bush a lot longer, ask less invasive questions for a while first, but not him. I'm proud of the people who raised me, but I'm not proud of why they had to raise me.

"They were really young when they had me. In between Junior High and High School. My mother's family were Catholic and disowned her for having a child out of marriage, so she ditched me and ran. My father's parents tried to help him raise me, but he couldn't handle it and OD-ed. That left my Grandparents."

"That's horrible." Braxton said, clearly aghast. This was the exact reason I hated the question. I had no need for anybody's pity or sorrow. Sure, the beginning of my life was a little rocky, but I can't remember any of it. All my childhood memories had been wonderful.

"I suppose. My Grandma and Grandpa were great people though, I was lucky."

I was graced with a momentary reprieve when the waitress returned. Just to gather my thoughts again. It's not the absence of parents that left me reeling. Discussing family reminded me of the truth I had hidden for days. What I had left didn't want me anymore. Placing my order for lasagna, I did my best to take some calming breaths. Why did this man always bring me so close to breaking down? Thankfully he seemed to pick up on my fragile state and began asking mindless questions instead. What music and movies do I like, who my friends are, and what I did in my spare time, that kind of thing.

The conversation was flowing now, and Braxton was surprising me constantly. When I finally got to ask some questions, I found out bucket loads. He also had no family, his father having died nearly eight years ago, just before his twentieth birthday, and leaving him the company. When Braxton had inherited it, Sullivan Incorporated was a small technological support company. He had spent years building it up to what it was now. That tech support company had evolved to become SullTech, where I was currently positioned. On the off chance he ever had free time, Braxton enjoyed playing music, though he assured me free time was certainly a rarity.

"Then why are you here with me?" I piped up. Another brain to mouth misfire, and my cheeks began to flame. I had seen him the past four days in a row, a remarkable amount for a man with no free time.

"I'm curious about you." The bluntness of his response caught me off guard. Dinner had been going so smoothly.

"Curious how?" I could feel the knot of insecurity beginning to tighten in my throat and my defenses shoot up.

"You are different." Shock and offense must have been clear on my face, causing the uncomfortable look on his. Clearing his throat, he continued. "I mean that as a compliment. You're... refreshing."

"Refreshing?" I repeat, still looking for the compliment.

"Yes, refreshing. It would seem I enjoy your company." He explained, confusion crushing his brows together.

"Well... uh... thank you."

We sat in an uncomfortable silence while the table was cleared. I was mulling over his supposed compliment and he appeared to be watching me do so. As far as they went, it was the strangest compliment I had received. Was I ever going to understand this man? Deciding I probably wouldn't, I shrugged it off. The mystery can continue. Having apparently understood my inner musings, Braxton smiled warmly at me when I gave decoding his words.

"I'd like you to come back to my place for a drink, if you wouldn't mind." A smug smile decorated his face, as if I was already accepting the offer.

"Drink? It's a Tuesday night." No response, just a pointed look telling me he knew what day it was. "I struggle to get out of bed for work as it is. If I drink on a work night I'm done for."

If I had assumed he would scoff and tell me one drink wouldn't hurt, I would have been made an ass. Instead a thoughtful look cross his face, followed by a smile.

"Coffee then?"

I agreed with a nod. If he was in no rush to end the evening, I wasn't either. There was just an air about him, always had been. I was insanely curious, but as we moved closer to our ride I found my nerves were beginning to rise. Did I really want to know?

Yes. I did.