“Something like ‘food from around the world’. I think that would be a good explanation of what I’m hoping to do,” I say while nodding my head, and he rubs at the back of his neck.
“No offense, Star, but it’s kind of shit.” I can’t help but splutter at his reaction and his smirk is infuriating. “The premise is fine, but it sounds as though you’ll be cooking loads of different kinds of things. It’s too vague, you need to pin it down to what it is you will be selling.”
Damn, he’s good at this. Now, I feel even more foolish for not going to him to begin with.
“‘Cakes, breads, and pastries. Tastes from all over the world, right here in your hometown.’ Is that any better? I really don’t want to screw this up, Emmet. It’s almost as though I’m going for a job interview. I can’t believe how nervous I am.”
“Hey, nerves are a good thing. It shows how much you truly want this. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t nervous. Also, I think that is a much better statement, so you had better write it down before you forget it.” He slides my folder back to me and I quickly jot it down on the top of the first page.
“I think it’s time we get going, then we can come back and get changed for dinner. Come along, Star. Your future awaits.”
I feel like such an idiot, I can hardly recall a single thing that was said during that meeting. I’m just glad Emmet stayed with me, hopefully he has taken in more than I did.
“Do you believe these projections are accurate? That it will require this amount just to acquire the correct equipment,” Mrs. Masters asks, and my mouth is dry and luckily, gives me a reason to reach for a glass of water.
“Yes, ma’am. Forty thousand should cover the equipment, furniture, permits, and licenses. And hopefully, the first month’s utility bills and supply costs. I know it seems like a sizeable amount of money, but I need to ensure I have the best equipment for the job.”
“You also don’t see yourself being able to break even before the third year. Have you considered franchising the business so you could see a monetary gain earlier on?”
“How would she see more money before the third year if she went that route? She would need to lie down more collateral to begin with and her estimated costs will increase with each business she starts. Besides, she should at least wait and see how this one goes first. Why does my father even employ you?” Emmet asks, and I’ve never been more grateful to have him with me.
“I did not mean to speak out of line, sir. I just don’t see how this can be a profitable business. She is planning to do this on her own, and in New York, no less. There are plenty of bakeries around here,” Mrs. Masters states, and she isn’t wrong.
“I was considering opening the bakery in either South Carolina or Savannah. So, I don’t think that will be such a problem. Besides, I won’t be taking out a loan or anything, so I will only risk my own assets.” The worst thing to say, I can just feel it.
“I was under the impression that you were only Five. That means you will only be walking away with a hundred thousand. I would seriously reconsider your choice of venture. Either that or get a better number. Then again, you could always marry for money.”
Marry someone for money? I would never do something like that. I still can’t believe the way Emmet blew up at her. He was absolutely terrifying.
“I was under the impression you have two children under ten. I wonder what they’ll say when you go home and tell them that mommy lost her job. Do you think your husband will support you? I mean, I’m sure he will… at first. Unless, of course, he were to find out about what your late nights at the office really entail. You are a naughty girl, aren’t you, Masters?”
I slip on a red bodycon dress and black heels. I have to be a contortionist to get this zipper done up, so I guess I’d better ask Emmet. My cheeks are already as hot as the sun, and he isn’t even going to see anything.
I make my way down to the living room, and he switches the television off.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he says with a grin, and my cheeks are only getting hotter.
“Would you mind zipping me up?” I ask, as my eyes stare at his shiny black shoes.
“Gladly,” he replies, as he moves to stand behind me. I can feel his knuckles graze my spine as he draws the zipper all the way up. Goosebumps are lining my skin and I can barely catch my breath. What is this effect he has on me? Why hasn’t it gone away yet?
He leads me outside and we climb into his car, before heading off to the restaurant.
“Have you been here before?”
“Once or twice. They have a waiting list that you have to join three months before you want to be seated. Lucky for us, I’m a Harkwright. They’ll always make room for one of us, even if that means giving someone their bill early,” he says it as though I should be impressed. I’m not, that’s for damn sure.
A valet meets us at the door and takes the car before Emmet leads me inside.
“Mr. Harkwright, I didn’t realize you would be joining us this evening,” says the concierge.
“Neither did I, but you know what we’re like. We love to keep things interesting. Do you have a table for us?”
“Of course, one moment please.” He scurries away before whispering in a waiter’s ear. It isn’t long before we’re led to a table and a disgruntled couple pass us, with nothing but disgust and hatred clear on their faces.
“This doesn’t seem right, taking a table from someone who was here before us,” I say, as I look over the menu.
“Who’s to decide what is right or wrong? I wanted a table, so I got one. It’s as simple as that.”
Emmet orders a beef cannelloni, with garlic bread, and a bottle of wine to be brought to the table. I just opt for the lasagna myself, and I have no idea what we’ll do while we wait for our food to arrive.
“Why were you so mad at me?” Not what I was going for, but I really don’t seem to have much of a filter these days.
“What you said bothered me, and I realize you weren’t blaming me for what has been happening, but you were still putting it on my shoulders. Do you have any idea what it is like to be held accountable for things you never did? That no matter what you say, the blame still falls onto you. Even when that person knows you had nothing to do with it. People are so shocked and appalled by the way I act, yet they haven’t got a fucking clue. I’m the way I am because of how I’ve been raised, there’s no helping me, Star. I’m never going to change.”
“Do you want to be different?” I ask, and I can’t get a read on him.
“Why would I? I see nothing wrong with who I am. What about you, Star? Do you wish I was different?” His eyes are more intense now, and I know he is watching my every move.
“No, I think I just wish you could be one person. The constant changes in personality are really confusing, and I never know who I’m going to get. That, and I’m scared by how much you seem to want me. I think you’re dangerous, Emmet, and I rarely ever run toward it.”
We are staring at each other, as our drinks are brought over and we both take a large drink. We say nothing else as our food arrives, and we keep ourselves busy.