Gentle Persuasion (20 page)

Ophelia considered this. “Do you ever...envy her?”

He thought about this. “No. She got what she wanted out of life, and so did I.”

Ophelia reached for her own mug of coffee. “And you’ve never loved anyone since?”

“Not in the same way. I’ve dated women, some of them wonderful, some of them not. But ultimately, I never felt that...that thrill around them that goes beyond pure attraction—the feeling that this is the person you could spend the rest of your life with.”

The way he looked at her then caused her hands to tremble so that she had to place her mug back on the table to keep from spilling her coffee.

“I don’t know if I feel that with Cole, either,” she confessed. “I’ve always thought we were more...more compatible than romantic. Does that make sense?”

“I think that makes perfect sense.”

“But he’s willing to move to Paris with me, and that’s saying a lot for Cole. I don’t think it was ever something he wanted.”

She settled against the back of the couch and, after placing his mug beside hers on the coffee table, Dane leaned back with her. She found herself nestling into his side and relaxing as his arm came around her.

“I wish...things were different,” she said.

Dane stroked his fingers along the length of her arm, making her feel, at least for now, secure.

* * *

F
OR
THE
NEXT
few weeks, Ophelia didn’t see Dane at all. Her days were filled with tasks relating to her upcoming promotion—transferring clients, reassigning her current workload and meetings with her mother about the Paris branch. She assumed Dane’s time was filled with settling into his new role, getting to know his creative marketing team and consulting for Bianca.

On several different occasions, she composed texts and emails to him.

Hey stranger, wondering how you’re settling in?

Or

Dear Dane,

How are you adjusting to your new role? If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact me at my office.

Sincerely,

Ophelia

But she sent none of these because not one of them said what she really wanted to express. Those were words she dare not voice aloud, nor put into print. So she carried on, trying desperately to put Dane out of her mind and focus on Paris, instead. She kept waiting for the anticipation to kick in, the realization that she was actually doing this—moving to Paris...but it never came. She reassured herself that the reality of the situation hadn’t sunk in yet, and once she was in Paris, her happiness would know no bounds.

She went on a couple of dates with Cole, but each one only seemed to solidify for her how little affection she felt for him. She couldn’t help comparing every word, every gesture, to Dane, and each time, Cole came up lacking. She tried to express how she felt without wounding his ego, but it was an impossible task. Cole had decided they were destined to be together, and he had her mother’s approval in that thought—disagreeing with the both of them proved to be more than Ophelia was capable of doing.

She had determined that she had to break things off for good with Cole, that she couldn’t continue stringing him along, and that was when she received her mother’s invitation. It came to her apartment, in a creamy white envelope embossed with silver accents. The script within was printed on pristine ivory cardstock, requesting her attendance at a dinner party that Friday evening. It was to celebrate Reid Recruiting’s recent success—which left Ophelia uneasy but unable to decline the event. Of course, Cole would be in attendance, and she could hardly break up with him right before the party occurred.

So, steeling herself for the occasion, she pulled her vintage black dress from the back of her closet and prepared to attend her mother’s dinner that Friday night.

* * *

D
ANE
STARED
AT
the invitation in his hands as Bianca looked over his shoulder, her gaze fixed on the same creamy white stationery with flourished silver accents.

“A date with the dragon lady,” Bianca said, and he couldn’t help laughing.

When he didn’t speak, however, Bianca moved from behind to stand in front of the desk where he sat.

“Do we attend, then?”

Dane sighed and tossed the invitation onto a pile of correspondence. “Of course. It would be in bad form to turn down Lillian Reid.”

Bianca made a show of shuddering violently. “It’ll be like a scene from
The Godfather.
”

Dane uttered another small laugh, but a part of him sank even deeper into sadness. He felt certain Ophelia would be in attendance at her mother’s party, and as much as he missed her, he dreaded seeing her on Cole’s arm.

Bianca must have noticed his glumness because she settled into the seat in front of his desk and eyed him curiously.

“Come on. It won’t be
that
bad. If you handled my board of directors so effortlessly, then Lillian Reid will be a breeze. She seems tough, but she’s kind of sad.”

Dane perked up at this. “What do you mean?”

Bianca leaned back in the chair with a shrug. “She lost her husband when she was young, you know? And she had that daughter to raise all by herself. She never remarried, and she rarely dates. It’s like she’s...insulated herself. Against feeling. Against love. Don’t you find that sad?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Dane confessed. “How do you know so much about her?”

Bianca frowned. “I keep telling everybody to stop thinking I’m clueless. I went to college. I have degrees in both business and economics, remember? I’m capable of doing a little research, you know.”

Dane found himself smiling with genuine affection. “I know.” He had been pleasantly surprised to discover Bianca Towers was not the vacuous girl he had assumed she would be. On the contrary, she was bright and hardworking with a solid business sense. She only needed some direction and the ability to change the world’s perception of her. Her first battle had been with the company’s board of directors, who’d assumed, as Dane had, that her party-girl reputation was an inherent part of her personality. But over the past few weeks, the two of them had worked to change her persona and the future of her company through networking events, charity benefits and interviews. He had the utmost faith that Bianca Towers was going to be just fine in her new role.

“Well?”

Stirring himself from these thoughts, he blinked in confusion. “Well what?”

“Don’t you feel sorry for Lillian Reid?”

Dane thought about Ophelia and how she craved her mother’s approval and affection. He found it difficult to feel truly sorry for someone who could so callously withhold love from her own daughter.

“Not even a little bit,” he answered Bianca’s question.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What? Not at all?”

“No,” Dane declared.

“Well...why not?”

“Because,” he said, “being hurt by love is no reason to reserve it from others.”

Bianca cocked her head. “What are you talking about?”

Dane purposely shifted his attention to his desk and began sorting through paperwork there in order to avoid his young employer’s eyes. “I think what makes Lillian Reid such a tragic figure is not that she lost her husband so young or had to work so hard to build her business...but that she had a treasure right in front of her all along that she neglected, not recognizing the worth and love of her own daughter.” He looked back up, surprised by the depth of his own feelings on the matter. “I don’t feel sorry for her. I can’t.”

Bianca stared at him until he forced himself to look back to his desk once more.

“I’m meeting with the advertising team in an hour, so I better prepare.”

“Sure, I’ll let you get to it.”

He looked up when she stood, and he felt her hesitating. When he met her eyes, she gestured toward the invitation left lying on his desk.

“Are we still attending?”

His gaze shifted to the creamy stationery once more. This might be his last chance to see Ophelia before she left the country—and his life—forever.

“Yes,” he reaffirmed. “We’re attending.”

* * *

L
ILLIAN
R
EID
’
S
CELEBRATORY
dinner party took place in the Azure Room of the prestigious Indigo restaurant on the Upper East Side. Ophelia entered the room that evening on Cole’s arm, her eyes scanning the dusky-blue walls with their black sconces and silver accents. The atmosphere was relaxed but also a little dark, and it took Ophelia’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dimness. Her mother stood out in sharp contrast to the deep blue shades as she sat in a pale gray scoop-necked blouse.

“Cole, Ophelia,” her mother greeted and rose to her feet so she could brush a kiss against each of their cheeks. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Cole apologized with only the faintest trace of irritation. “Ophelia couldn’t find her pearl earrings.”

Ophelia was glad for the dim lighting after this remark. Cole had insisted she wear his pearls to the evening’s dinner, but when she went to put them on, she couldn’t remember where she’d last seen them. Of course, this hadn’t done much for Cole’s mood in starting the evening.

“It was worth the wait. She looks lovely.”

Ophelia felt every nerve ending come alive at these words, spoken by a delightfully familiar voice. She shifted her attention to the other guests, scanning their faces more carefully now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim atmosphere.

There he was. Seated four chairs down from her mother’s right. Bianca Towers sat beside him, on his left.

Dane.

“Thank you,” Ophelia murmured and offered a look that she hoped he knew was just for him.

“Well, at least you made it. Honestly, I don’t know what Ophelia would do without Cole to keep her on time for things.” Lillian laughed, and a few of the other guests—all senior members of Reid Recruiting, she noted—joined her in polite chuckling.

Ophelia frowned, feeling this statement to be a trifle unfair. She was occasionally late for social functions, mostly out of her reluctance to attend. But Cole had little to do with her promptness in any situation.

“Take a seat, you two, so we can begin the first course. I’m sure you’re all starving.”

Cole placed a hand under Ophelia’s elbow to guide her, and she couldn’t help easing out of his grip to find her way to her own place at the table. She ended up across and two seats away from Dane, making any sort of conversation with him difficult. But she caught his eye as Cole insistently pushed her chair in for her, and he managed a commiserating smile. Suddenly, at least, she didn’t feel so alone.

* * *

T
HE
DINNER
WAS
every bit as tedious as Ophelia feared it would be. The food tasted superb but did nothing to make up for the conversation. At a table filled mostly with recruiters, the discussion was filled with the biggest placements of each person’s career. Given Dane’s presence, Ophelia had the best story of them all, but she had no desire to brag. On the contrary, she caught Dane’s eye several times, silently apologizing that he had found himself in the midst of such a scene, but each time, he gave a slight shake of his head as if to reassure her that he didn’t mind. More than once, she turned her head to find him watching her. When that happened, she had to redirect her attention elsewhere, lest the warmth she felt seeping through her cheeks be visible even in the dim light of the room.

Dane was seated just beyond the reach of comfortable conversation, but at least she managed to exchange a few words with Bianca Towers. For her part, Bianca seemed as bored as Ophelia felt, but she handled the situation charmingly, laughing at all the right places and commenting just when she should. Clearly, Bianca had a good sense of the social scene.

And Ophelia found that she liked her all the more for it. Perhaps Dane was right—maybe they had all misunderstood Bianca. She had needed Dane to prove her point—that she could bring things to the company others had never suspected. Well, if having Dane at her side had made her board of directors see past the media hype and take her seriously, bravo for her.

Ophelia was musing on this very point when she suddenly realized the table around her had fallen silent. The waiters had brought dessert, but as Ophelia looked down, she realized hers was different than the others.

Instead of the chocolate soufflé on every other plate, Ophelia’s contained a small, black jeweler’s box. At first, she could only stare at it, and then she looked at Cole beside her. She could tell by the look on his face that this was no pair of earrings before her.

Involuntarily, her eyes went to Dane’s, only to find his face blank, his eyes dark. She looked back down at the box.

“Ophelia, dear, aren’t you going to open it?” Though voiced as a question, her mother meant it as a command. She reached for the box and found her fingers were trembling with so many eyes on her.

To her mortification, Cole pushed back his seat and got down on one knee.

No. Not here. Not now. Not with all the senior recruiters and Dane Montgomery watching.

“Ophelia,” he began, “even though we’ve experienced a few differences in the past month, I need you to know that my feelings haven’t changed. After all we’ve been through, as we face this new chapter ahead, I want us to do it together...as man and wife.”

Fingers still trembling, she eased back the lid of the box and found a large, square-cut diamond resting inside, its edges lined with smaller emeralds. It was something worthy of a princess and had probably cost more than she could imagine.

And it wasn’t the kind of ring she would ever wish to wear.

She didn’t look up right away—she needed a minute to breathe. Everyone around her held their breath, as well; she could feel them frozen in anticipation. If she looked her mother’s way, she knew what she would see—a silent demand to answer appropriately, to grasp this chance, to claim Cole as her own, once and for all.