glass containing a slice of lemon in front of her, then he pours for her.
“Can I order a glass of wine for you, Miss Shaw?” I ask. “Champagne, perhaps?” I lift my brows.
She shakes her head. “I’m technically on the clock.”
“You’re not on the clock.”
“This is work.”
“It’s dinner. If you want a glass of wine…or a cocktail…feel free.” I pick up the wine list. “Can I order you something? We agreed to celebrate your appointment. No pressure if you—”
She pushes out a breath and smiles. “Okay.” She nods. “Wine would be nice.”
I order a bottle of champagne, and the waiter leaves.
“That’s an interesting beer glass,” she says when I lift it up to take a sip.
“It’s a chalice glass. This particular beer is brewed by monks, believe it or not.”
Her eyes brighten up. “Monks! I didn’t know monks brewed beer.”
“Do you want to try it?” I offer the glass to her.
She wrinkles her nose. “Does it taste like beer?”
I choke out a laugh. “It does…yes. It’s still beer, Miss Shaw.”
“I’m going to have to decline, then. Thanks for the offer, but I don’t like the taste of beer.” She turns serious. “You were saying that the one reason I’m here is that you want me to meet the B&H board members. What was the other reason?” She takes a sip of her water.
“The problem I’m facing right now is that I’m more interesting to the press since I got voted onto some ridiculous list as one of the world’s most eligible bachelors.”
Miss Shaw giggles. “Number three, I believe. You lost to a viscount and a prince.”
I give her a mock dirty look. “I thought you only googled me from a professional standpoint, Miss Shaw, and my number three position has caused me nothing but grief.”
She blushes. “I’m sorry. It came up when I searched you from a business standpoint.” She shrugs. “I couldn’t help but—”
“It’s fine. I understand. It’s everywhere.” I take another sip of my beer. “I’ve had a whole lot of bad press ever since that article was published a couple of weeks ago. Even more so after some celebrity mentioned me in a reality television show. She wants to get me off the market or some bullshit.” I make a sound of frustration “Now, the paparazzi are hellbent on getting dirt on me. On making me out to be some sort of playboy. They’ve published a whole lot of crap recently. If I stand anywhere near a woman and someone snaps a picture, I’m suddenly deemed to be in a relationship with her. It’s a mess.” I run a hand through my hair.
“I saw an article online where they mentioned you dated an underaged girl just the other day. The pictures looked—”
I feel my blood fucking boil. My PA must see my reaction because she stops and licks her lips. “I’m sorry. As I said, it came up. I didn’t dwell on any of that nonsense. I was only interested in finding out information from a business perspective, I swear.”
I believe her. I nod. “It pisses me off because I haven’t dated anyone in a while. It’s been months.” Has it been that long? “That article was a load of bull. I have a reputation to uphold, Miss Shaw. I’m not a Rockstar or an A-list celebrity. In other words, I’m not someone who can get away with being a player. I broker major deals regularly. Trust and reputation mean a lot in this game. I can’t be seen in compromising situations. I need to lay low for a while…until the dust settles. As in, I can’t be seen to be dating anyone, or in any kind of a situation that can be misconstrued or taken out of context. The paparazzi will eventually lose interest, particularly if there isn’t much to see. I need you at my side to do that.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see our waiter approaching with the champagne. I hold up my hand and signal for him to wait a second.
“I’m still not sure how I can help.” She frowns.
“My PR manager will release a statement tomorrow once the pictures of us are published. It will soon be general knowledge that you’re my employee and not my latest fuck.” I see her pupils dilate as she pulls in a breath. I get the distinct impression that she isn’t put off by my bad language. That maybe she’s a little turned on by it. I love the idea of that.