Chapter 48 First Date?
Emilia’s POV
Sebastian got out of the car, leaving me to scramble after him.
This was insane. Sebastian Simons, Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, CEO of Simons Imperial Group, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the region...
At a hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint.
We found an empty table and sat down. A moment later, a man in a grease-stained apron appeared, grinning cheerfully.
"Evening, folks! What can I get you?"
He thrust a laminated menu at us, the plastic sticky with God knows what.
"You order," Sebastian said, sliding the menu across the table to me.
I blinked at him. Was he seriously going to maintain his gentleman’s facade even here, surrounded by plastic chairs and paper napkins?
Apparently, yes.
I scanned the menu quickly and ordered four dishes and handed it back to the waiter. "Thank you, that’s all."
"Coming right up!"
As soon as the man left, I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.
Sebastian’s eyebrows drew together. "What’s so funny?"
"I just...I never expected to see you in a place like this."
"Why?" His tone was defensive. "Not everything in this world fits into your narrow expectations of me."
"I didn’t mean it as an insult," I said, still smiling. "It’s just... surprising. In a good way."
"I’m sure you think I’m being cheap, taking my wife to some dive instead of a five-star restaurant."
"No." I shook my head, my smile softening into something more genuine. "Actually, I think it’s perfect."
He looked skeptical.
"I mean it," I insisted. "The fact that our first real... outing together is at an open-air food court instead of some stuffy restaurant makes it memorable. Special."
"Correction." Sebastian’s expression hardened. "This isn’t a date. We’re not there yet."
"Then what is it?" I challenged. "Why are we sitting here right now?"
"It’s just dinner," he said flatly. "Two people eating a meal together. Or are you going to tell me that you and Scott Hanson never shared a meal? What’s your relationship with him, anyway?"
The sudden shift to Scott caught me off guard.
"Scott and I are friends," I said carefully. "Just friends. So by your logic, that means you and I are friends too?"
Sebastian tensed. "I swore I’d never be friends with a woman again."
"And yet here we are."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he extended his hand across the table.
"Congratulations," he said dryly. "You’re now my one and only female friend."
I stared at his outstretched hand, my heart doing something complicated in my chest. I knew what this was really about—gratitude that I hadn’t abandoned him after learning about his trauma. This was his way of keeping his pride intact while acknowledging that something between us had shifted.
But I’d take it.
I reached out and clasped his hand. His palm was warm, his grip firm.
"Wow," I said, injecting false brightness into my voice. "I’m so honored. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket today. This might be my lucky day."
"Don’t push it." But there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"To celebrate our friendship," I announced loudly, "we need drinks. Excuse me!"
I waved at the busy owner. "Ten bottles of beer, please!"
"Isn’t that too much?"
I met his gaze. "Not at all. A man is not a man if he can’t handle ten bottles of beer."
He smirked and asked, "This is the first time you’ve come to a place like this, isn’t it?"
"What do you think?"
Sebastian looked me up and down. In fact, since they got married, he had rarely looked at me closely.
"It should be your first time," he reasoned. "Your family isn’t exactly tycoon level, but you’re still considered wealthy. Better off than some, worse off than many."
"If you think a family like mine means I’ve never been to places like this, you’re dead wrong. I’ve been here more often than any poor family’s daughter ever has."
The memory hit me.
Seven years old. My small hands raw and red from dish soap, the endless stack of greasy plates and bowls that never seemed to shrink. The stench of old cooking oil and rotting food. My mother beside me, her beautiful face haggard with exhaustion.
"No way." Sebastian’s disbelief yanked me back to the present. "I don’t believe you. You’re a rich man’s daughter."
I blinked rapidly.
"There’s nothing strange about it," I said, injecting casual indifference into my tone. "A rich man like you can come here. Why wouldn’t a merchant’s daughter?"
"Don’t compare yourself to me." His voice took on that arrogant edge "I’m a man and you’re a woman. It’s normal for me to come here. Not for you."
"Alright, let’s drop it." I reached for the beer bottles as they arrived. "Hurry up and eat before everything gets cold."
I poured myself a full glass, the foam rising to the rim. "Cheers."
I tipped my head back and drained it in one long pull. The cold bitterness slid down my throat.
"Henry takes you to a lot of business dinners, doesn’t he?" Sebastian’s question came out.
I set down my empty glass. "No. Why?"
"How the hell did you develop such a high alcohol tolerance?"
"It’s only two glasses of beer." I gave him my sweetest smile. "Why are we talking about tolerance? Haven’t you ever seen a woman who can drink?"
He snorted. "No. Can’t say I have."
Time blurred at the edges. I kept drinking while Sebastian ate, his eyes flicking to me every few minutes with an expression I couldn’t quite read. The alcohol warmed my blood, loosened the tight coil of tension I’d been carrying since... since forever, really.
"It’s late." Sebastian’s voice cut through my pleasant haze. He tapped the Rolex on his wrist. "We should go."
"Late?" I glanced around at the still-crowded food court. "There’s still plenty of people here."
"There will always be people at night stalls. Are you planning to stay until everyone’s gone?"
"A few more drinks. I’m happy tonight. I haven’t been somewhere like this in so long. Thank you, Sebastian. For bringing me here. For reminding me of... of things I’d almost forgotten."
"What kind of unforgettable memories?" His tone sharpened with suspicion. "Don’t tell me you’ve also been abandoned six times?"
"Hmph. You think everyone’s as unlucky as you?"
His expression darkened.
"I’m sorry, I’m sorry." I held up my hands. "I didn’t mean it. Just pretend I didn’t say anything. You didn’t hear anything."
"It doesn’t matter. I’m not as fragile as you think. And... "
He glared at me. "I won’t argue with a drunk."
"Who’s drunk? You’re drunk."
I tried to pour it into my glass, but my hands weren’t cooperating.
"That’s enough." Sebastian’s hand shot out, stopping me. "Stop drinking. We’re leaving."
"Don’t rush me." I pushed his hand away clumsily. "I paid for these. We’re not leaving until everything’s finished."
"Are you leaving or not? I’ll count to three. If you don’t get up, don’t blame me for what happens next. You know I’ll leave you here alone."
"No." I shook my head, the world tilting slightly. "We’re friends now. You wouldn’t do that."
Then he stood. And walked away.
I watched him go. The peaceful quiet in my mind began to fade as the distance between us grew.
He wouldn’t actually leave me. Would he?
The crowd’s thoughts started creeping back in at the edges of my consciousness. A woman at the next table wondering if her husband was cheating. A teenager worried about failing his exams. A middle-aged man calculating whether he could afford another round of drinks.
The cacophony built slowly, like a radio dial turning up.