Quinn
"Go to lunch?" Quinn gaped at Santana. "With you?"
Who else would you be going to lunch with? Quinn tried her best to keep from cringing at herself. Her nerves were getting the best of her, making it hard to think straight. Food did sound really good right now. And food with Santana sounded even better. For about a million reasons.
Santana nodded. "I'll pay, of course. And we can talk some more about your loan application."
Quinn's stubborn pride hated relying on anyone for money, but this was her chance to get close to Santana. Stumbling into Santana Lopez of all people was a stroke of luck. "Okay. I'd like that very much. Thank you."
"Great." Santana gave Quinn a smile that made her stomach flutter. Her body reacting to the woman before her was the last thing she needed on her mission.
Santana got up, handed back her application, and walked her out of the loan office. She placed a gentle hand on the small of Quinn's back, guiding her through the bank. The touch burned through the fabric of Quinn's dress, the weight of Santana's hand reminded her of how long it had been since she'd had any kind of physical contact with someone she'd been attracted to.
God, she was overthinking this encounter already.
When they made it into the sunshine outside, Santana led her to a sleek black Mercedes in the executive parking lot. As she slipped into the interior's plush leather seat, Quinn subtly sized Santana up. Slim, dark, and gorgeous didn't even begin to describe her. She hadn't been kidding when she had said Santana would fit in if she visited Italy. With her jet-black hair, olive skin, and intense dark brown eyes she had the looks of a cover model.
Santana got into the driver's seat and revved the engine.
Quinn's breath caught in her throat as Santana tore out of the parking lot and out onto the street. It'd been ages since she'd been in a car this luxurious. Even longer since she'd flirted with someone this wealthy.
"We're getting Italian for lunch," Santana informed her, navigating the car through lunchtime traffic with ease.
She didn't say it like it was a suggestion. She said it like she was in complete command of the situation. Which, of course, she was. Santana was a Lopez, after all.
And Lopezes are always in control, Quinn thought bitterly.
Which made her wonder, what exactly did Santana want from her? There was no way she usually invited lowly, debt-ridden clients like her out to lunch. This wasn't some gesture out of the goodness of her heart. Santana was a Lopez. Everyone knew the Lopezes didn't have hearts. She had to have some kind of ulterior motive.
If she knew Quinn's ulterior motive, she wouldn't hesitate to destroy her. The same way her family had destroyed Quinn's family all those years ago. Earlier at the bank, Santana had thought she recognized her from somewhere. That had nearly thrown her off completely. Luckily, Santana hadn't figured out she was a Fabray. Quinn just hoped that nobody at the restaurant recognized her either.
"I don't expect this to taste exactly like the real thing." Santana held open the restaurant door. "Breadstix is a terrific restaurant, but you've probably been spoiled by your time in Italy."
Quinn slipped inside, flashing her a grateful smile. "Managing my expectations?"
"Hardly." Santana leaned in close enough for Quinn to smell her ambery perfume. "While you might have been spoiled by the food over there, I doubt the men knew how to keep up with you." The low husk of her voice and the implication of her words made Quinn shiver.
Santana was flirting with her. Maybe that had been her sole motive for inviting her out for lunch. "Maybe I don't need a man to keep up with me."
Santana eyed her and nodded slowly. "I'll bet."
Breadstix was obscenely opulent for a place that sounded like a fast food chain. It's the kind of restaurant Quinn's parents would have taken her to for some minor occasion when she was young. Chandeliers hung overhead and they walked on a gleaming floor of white marble. All of the decors were a pristine white, from the painted wooden chairs to the columns that gave the place an old-style Italian feel.
A waiter guided them to an empty table. Once they were seated, Quinn picked up a leather-bound menu and flicked it open. Every dish was beyond anything she could afford. These days her idea of a hearty meal was packets of instant noodles.
She made sure she held the menu as close to her face as possible. This was the kind of restaurant her family's old friends frequented. If someone recognized her, the game would be over before it had even started.
"See anything you'd like?"
It would be gauche to order the most expensive item on the menu, but since Santana Lopez was the one paying, Quinn would risk it. "The pasta with white truffles sounds good."
If Santana thought the three-hundred-dollar price tag was too high, she didn't show it. All she did was nod and flash her a small smile. "You have great taste," she said in an approving tone that made Quinn nearly bashful.
She mentally kicked herself. She had been so starved of approval over the years that she was now actually relishing the approval of her family's greatest enemy. The Lopezes were the ones who were responsible for her current debt and poverty. For her brother's aimlessness and her mother's alcoholism. Their cruelty had sent her father to prison for ten long years. Her family had been stripped of everything after the government had seized their assets. It was all because the Lopezes had ruthlessly sold her family down the river.
"What about you?" she asked. "See anything you like?"
Santana lifted her gaze, her eyes sweeping over Quinn. Heat blazed their depths, turning her dark eyes beguiling. Something was thrilling about the way Santana was looking at her. With stark, unrestrained desire. A desire Quinn could use to her advantage. "I do," Santana said, looking right at her. "I see something I like very much."
Quinn's response was a knowing smile. The trick to luring Santana was to make sure she didn't appear too greedy for her attention. She hadn't expected to bump into Santana today, and she had to be quick on her feet if she hoped to get as much dirt on her as she could.
The plan for today had been to get into Lopez Investment Group to dig for incriminating evidence she could use against the Lopezes. Quinn had worked out the entire plan over the phone with her father these past several weeks. But she had been expecting to get intel out of a lowly loan officer. Never had she imagined Santana Lopez herself would be the one to handle her loan. When she spotted her, Quinn hadn't believed her good fortune. Finally, after all these years, it looked like her bad luck streak was going to end.
"I'd recommend a wine, but you're the expert," Santana said. "Besides, I'll lay off the alcohol since I'm driving."
"There's an excellent pinot grigio on the menu that I've been dying to try again." Quinn cast a glance, making a show of sizing Santana up. If Santana thought Quinn was into her personality rather than her money, she'd be more likely to let her guard down. "I'd recommend a shakerato for you."
"What is that? Some kind of girly drink?"
Quinn laughed. "It's iced coffee. You'll love it."
"Well, I can't argue with that." Santana returned her smile and put down her menu. "So, Quinn. Tell me more about yourself."
"What do you want to know?" Apprehension flooded her. Making up an entire backstory about her life was putting Quinn on edge. It was always easier when a lie was as close to the truth as possible. How could she possibly tell a convincing lie, if even hinting at the truth would blow her cover?
Their waiter appeared to take their orders before quickly vanishing.
"Tell me about your family," Santana pressed.
No topic was more fraught than the topic of her family. The family that Santana and her parents had torn apart on her seventeenth birthday. Quinn's tranquil life as an heiress had been shattered that day. Her father had been arrested, accused of the most heinous crimes. Crimes she knew he would never commit. No matter what they accused him of, she would always believe his innocence.
With the help of testimony from the Lopezes, her poor father had been accused of stealing and embezzling funds from everything from charities to wealthy investors. People's life savings and pensions had vanished overnight. The Lopezes and their lies had sent her father to prison with a fifteen-year sentence.
That was why she had to get dirt on Santana and the rest of her family. Quinn wouldn't rest until her father got the justice and revenge he deserved for his years of suffering at the hands of the devious and scheming Lopezes.
"There's not much to tell," Quinn said. "I've got my parents and my younger brother."
"So, no boyfriend or girlfriend or anything?"
Santana's curiosity about her relationship status let her know that she had her interest now. If she could lead her on for a while, she'd get close enough to her to get all the dirt she needed for her mission. "None. I'm free and single," Quinn replied in a sultry tone.
"Frankly, I'm shocked someone like you is single, but I'm not going to question it." Santana paused. "Not that I'm assuming anything. I'm just glad we crossed paths today."
Their order arrived and Quinn started to dig into her pasta and truffles.
Santana took a sip of her drink. "You were right about the shakerato. It's amazing."
"Glad you like it." Quinn smiled. "We'll make an expert out of you soon."
"I hope that means you'd be open to learning about my expertise." Santana's low voice made her think of decadent nights wrapped in silk sheets. And wrapped in her arms.
Quinn pushed that treacherous thought aside. This mission was about pretending to get close to Santana. Not fantasizing about falling into bed with her for real.
"And what would that be?" she asked, not fighting to keep the breathlessness out of her voice.
"Latin American cuisine," Santana answered. "The food is incredible. I grew up with my grandmother's cooking and I've been learning a lot more about it now that LIG is expanding into Latin American markets."
Anger and jealousy flared in Quinn. That expansion should've been her accomplishment. Her destiny. Lopez Investment Group had been Fabray Financials before Santana and her parents stole the bank from her father. And as if stealing a hundred-year-old family business hadn't been enough for them, they had to ruin her family on top of it all. Now Santana was lording it over her.
The anger was so overwhelming Quinn reached for her glass to force down some wine to cool her anger.
"I've never been anywhere in Latin America," she said truthfully. Before her father's arrest, she had been planning to take a gap year to travel through the Americas. But with her father behind bars and the family wealth gone, that dream never came true.
And while her father had wasted away in prison, Quinn had been the one to deal with the day-to-day humiliation. She had gone from a life filled with happiness to being an outcast. Childhood friends ignored her frantic calls. Extended family had cut her off, wanting nothing to do with her. Meanwhile, her father's alleged victims hounded her for years.
Quinn had gone through months of daily harassment, threatening phone calls, death threats, and break-ins. Some women spat in her face when they saw her. Grown men had stalked her in an attempt to take out their frustration on anyone connected to her father. A fire had mysteriously broken out at her old apartment. The media had even accused her of knowing about the embezzlement, but how could she have known? She had been just a child.
The worst of it came when three of her father's victims committed suicide when they learned the scale of their financial losses. Their deaths would haunt Quinn for the rest of her life.
That was why she had taken on her mother's maiden name. Being non-descript Quinn Johnson was so much easier than Quinn Fabray, daughter of an alleged financial fraudster.
"Maybe that'll change," Santana said, dragging Quinn from her bitter thoughts.
"I hope it does."
When they finished their meal, Santana ordered dessert. While they waited for their dessert to arrive, Santana leaned forward, genuine curiosity burning in her eyes. "So, how long have you been a designer?"
Quinn paused to think. "Well, I've always designed now that I think about it. I've been sketching fashion ideas ever since I was a kid."
"Do you have any sketches with you?" Santana asked.
"Oh." Quinn was stunned she wanted to see her work. Stunned and suspicious. No doubt Santana had her own reasons for showing interest in her work, but Quinn would oblige. She reached into a tote bag to retrieve her portfolio. "I have a portfolio for older sketches. Most of those ended up getting made." She handed over her binder.
Santana flipped the binder open to look over her work.
Quinn's heart started to pound as she watched Santana appraise her sketches. For some reason, she cared about what Santana thought. That scared Quinn more than anything. It didn't matter that Santana had so kindly invited her to lunch. Didn't matter that she had been so attentive to her interests. She couldn't be trusted.
"This is impressive work," Santana said enthusiastically. "These suits and gowns have a classic feel. Like something out of an old black-and-white movie."
"That's exactly what I was going for." Quinn stared at Santana in surprise. "I grew up on old movies and I like infusing that in my designs. What kind of style do you prefer? I can tell from what you're wearing that you like sleek styles with an edge."
Santana was wearing a silk sleeveless cowl neck tucked into a high-waisted skirt with a slit on the side. The fabrics looked like they cost a fortune. "Honestly, I don't shop much anymore. My assistant usually buys whatever designer houses send me."
Quinn chewed her bottom lip, thinking over what would look good on Santana. As an idea formed in her head, she took her sketchbook out of her bag and started sketching as fast as she could. Then she grabbed some colored pencils to add some color. "I know purple is kind of a bold choice, but I think it would work well on you."
Their dessert arrived, but Santana ignored the mouthwatering tiramisu to pick up Quinn's sketchbook. "This is amazing. I've never tried anything this color."
"It suits your complexion," Quinn said softly. "Plus, you could use gold accessories to offset the plum color. It's bold, modern, feminine. Maybe a little flashy."
"Are we still talking about the dress?" Santana's lips curved into a lopsided grin.
"The dress is an expression of who you are," Quinn said, returning her smile. "I want my store's focus to be on high-end, ready-to-wear designs. While also including haute couture and bespoke designs. Getting to know my clients would mean they'd get a personalized touch they couldn't get anywhere else."
"You know, having a personal designer of my own sounds like a great idea," Santana told her.
"I'd be up to the task if I had a store of my own," Quinn said, optimistic.
Santana's smile faded, dashing her hopes. This mission was about getting revenge for her father, but Quinn had dreams of her own. Her dream of opening her own fashion boutique was real. Besides, she needed an excuse to be around Santana if she had any hopes of getting dirt off her family. Without a good excuse, she couldn't help her father get his revenge. And now it looked like Santana was going to hit her with some bad news.