Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Nora sits in the passenger seat of my Porsche as I drive us to the restaurant. I’d chosen one of my favorites off the top of my head. An upscale Italian place slightly more downtown than the foundation, but definitely worth the drive. It’s a Monday night, so I’m hoping we’ll be okay to show up without a reservation. And if not, I have my ways of getting a table.
I keep glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. Her hair is pulled back into a low, messy bun, and she’s clutching her purse in her lap somewhat nervously. She’s seemed a little on edge ever since her admission a few minutes ago. Is it embarrassment, maybe?
I’d tried to keep the shock off my face when she’d told me she was a virgin. I’m still trying to keep the shock at bay now. But holy shit. A virgin?
How does a girl who looks like that end up a virgin at twenty-four? Surely she’s had dozens of men lining up, desperate for any crumb she’d throw them. It definitely can’t be from lack of male interest. Is she one of those religious types? I doubt so, considering she’s never mentioned it.
A small string of guilt gnaws at my insides remembering the wedding last weekend. It makes sense now why she’d run off. Why she’d gotten nervous and overwhelmed. I wish she’d just told me then. I would have slowed things way down, let her take the lead.
Speaking of which, I realize that things with Nora will have to go slowly from here. And to my utter shock, I’m totally okay with it. More than okay with it. I’m determined to get to know her, learn more about her, inside and out. Normally, a girl who required this much effort … well, I’d have moved on by now. But there’s something about Nora that’s different. Something about her that gets me thinking about more than just sleeping with her. Yeah, of course, that would be great, but I find myself daydreaming about other things. Simply spending time with her. Laughing. Hanging out.
I almost laugh out loud at the absurdity. Julian from a month ago would be appalled. Never did he think a girl would be worth the effort.
Boy was he wrong.
When we walk into the restaurant, Nora’s eyes widen in awe at the grandeur of the place. She looks around, taking it all in. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the elegant décor, the chinking of wine glasses.
“This place looks … nice,” she comments quietly.
“It is,” I say with a shrug.
We’re shown to a table, and we take our seats. Nora glances around the room, seemingly avoiding eye contact. There’s an awkwardness in the air between us, something I’m hoping will dissipate with some wine and conversation. I don’t want her to feel awkward, embarrassed. I want her to feel like we did at the wedding. Carefree, happy. I shoot her a warm smile, and she sends a hesitant one back to me.
The waiter comes for our drink order, and we each choose a glass of wine.
“How is yours?” I ask gently after she takes her first sip.
“Good.” She smiles.
After a pause, I say, “I meant what I said at the wedding.”
She looks at me quizzically. “What did you say?”
“About being interested in your ideas for the foundation,” I remind her with a smile.
Some of the tension eases, and she smiles back at me. “Really?” She raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t just saying that?”
I shoot her a look. “You think I got where I am today by giving people false praise?”
She laughs.
The waiter politely interrupts our conversation to take our meal orders and then disappears.
“I like your idea about an art show,” I continue. “Tell me more about that.”
She seems slightly hesitant, like she still thinks I’m only feigning interest to be polite, but she answers anyway. “I think it could be an excellent way to raise money for the foundation. And that’s what you guys are worried about, right? The funds?”
I shrug. “It’s a minor concern. Mainly we want to make sure the money is being well spent and that it’s not a waste of money. But fundraising is something the foundation seems to be struggling with, from the records I’ve seen.”
“We are,” Nora admits. “The things we’re doing now just aren’t working. And the kids we help don’t come from families who can give donations or anything like that—which we don’t expect at all, but obviously that makes it hard to run the foundation.”
I nod.
“But think about how cool an art show could be.” Her eyes light up a bit at this, and she leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. “We could display art the kids have created, or maybe showcase a specific artist—like the high school kids we award scholarships to every year. We could auction off a few pieces, have wine and food provided, turn it into a whole event that people can buy tickets for.”
I’m nodding along, listening more closely than I had at the wedding. Just like I’d thought last time, this is a pretty good idea. “And you mentioned that my brothers and I could dip into our more affluent list of contacts for attendance,” I remind her.
She grins, shrugging. “Why not? It’s your mother’s foundation, after all. It’s meaningful. And isn’t that what rich socialites love? Attending meaningful events?”
I smirk. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she says playfully, taking a sip of her wine.
I chuckle. “I’ll try to remember that.”
Our food arrives shortly, and we dig in. After a few bites, I say, “I really like this idea, Nora. I really do.”
She meets my gaze, hesitant hope in her eyes.
“Let’s make this happen. You and me.”