Chapter 59 - Oliver

**OLIVER**

Oliver tried to hide his disappointment in this so far completely unsuccessful meeting behind a friendly smile. He watched as Emily silently opened her gold clutch. She let her eyes wander over the contents and there was a brief moment of tension in the air. Finally, she looked up and said, without showing any emotion: “Nothing is missing.” Her face remained cool and aloof, and Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if she noticed him at all.

It was as if his presence was just a small footnote in her day, and that gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. His charm, which had rarely failed him before, bounced off her like water off a stone. He, Oliver Daron, the man who never had to wait long to make a woman smile, now sat before her silent and almost... powerless.

He cleared his throat and tried to fill the silence with small talk. “So, Ms. Saron,” he began in as calm a voice as possible, “what actually brought you to Fitzpatrick Designs?”

She raised her eyes, but the friendly answer he had hoped for did not materialize. Instead, she replied curtly, “Good opportunities, interesting projects.” Then she looked away again, seeming to find the interior of the restaurant more exciting than his company.

Inside, Oliver felt a mixture of frustration and helplessness well up inside him. He felt like a person desperately trying to break through a wall that just wouldn’t crumble.

The waiter arrived just in time to save the day, placing the steaming dishes in front of them and wishing them bon appétit. Emily nodded politely and began to eat, while Oliver barely managed a bite. A bitter feeling crept into his stomach that had nothing to do with the food. “Are you always so... reserved?” he tried again, half joking, half desperate to get some kind of reaction from her.

Emily looked at him, and for a tiny moment something flashed in her eyes - a mixture of amusement and perhaps even pity. “Maybe,” she said, “I’m not easily impressed.”

The words hit him like a slap in the face, but Oliver forced himself to remain calm. She said it so matter-of-factly, so calmly, as if it were a mundane fact that he simply had to accept. And maybe he should. But something in him resisted this indifference, this distance she maintained as if he were nothing more than an annoying obstacle.

The silence that followed was even more uncomfortable than before - at least for him. He looked down at his plate and forced himself to take a few bites, even though he could barely taste what he was eating. His usual, safe methods of conversation seemed ineffective here. If she had given him a little leeway, just a tiny gap in her defense, he might have found a way to get through to her.

But she gave him no chance.

When she had finally taken the last bite and placed her cutlery calmly and firmly on her plate, she raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at him. “Perhaps you could tell me, for a change, what Mr. Fitzpatrick has requested, Mr. Daron.”

Oliver winced. This woman before him was actually more of a tough businesswoman than he would have liked. At that moment, he would have preferred a sweaty fitness enthusiast. He put down his cutlery and cleared his throat. “Alexander Fitzpatrick would like to book you for Tuesday at three o’clock. He needs your exact measurements. Apparently, he would like to have a dress made for you to wear to that meeting and send it to you.”

He saw her gray-blue eyes light up. That made him twitch. Was he too late with his plan of conquest? Had she already committed to Alexander, even though he was her boss?

“And you’ve probably already accepted on my behalf?”

It sounded more like a statement than a question. Nevertheless, he answered politely. “Yes, because according to the contract you are at his disposal if he needs you for a performance.”

“And of course you’ve already thought about how I’m going to explain to my department that I have to leave half a day early?”

Oliver raised his hand to reach for his tie, until he remembered halfway up that he wasn’t wearing one. He had thrown it in a corner of his apartment. He hastily lowered his hand and reached for his water glass instead. He took a sip and wondered what he could say in response. He hadn’t given a thought to her other job. The hostesses he had chosen for the billionaire before had been employed in rather low-paying jobs and had seen no problem in calling out. Emily was a bit different. She cared deeply about her job as an accountant.

“No, I hadn’t actually thought of that,” he finally confessed, hoping she would appreciate his honesty. Far from it, her eyebrow raised again, giving him the feeling that he was doing his job poorly.

“By when do you need my measurements?”

“By tonight, so that Alexander can have everything ready in time.”

“Well, I’ll manage that.” She stood up and he looked up in confusion. Was she going to leave in the middle of their conversation? Didn’t she want dessert? “I’m sorry, Mr. Daron, I have to go now,” she said, and with a quick glance at her watch, she turned hastily. He jumped up to see her off, but she walked away without looking back at him. 

He stared after her, mouth agape, not understanding what he had done wrong. She had dismissed him in a cold, almost merciless manner that he had only seen from men in the hard business - men like Alexander Fitzpatrick. He simply couldn’t understand why Emily was so impervious to his attempts at charm. Usually a smile or a casual remark was enough to mesmerize a woman. But Emily? She wasn’t impressed, was rigidly professional and seemed completely uninterested in his company. 

Oliver frowned in frustration and asked for the check. He looked down at his almost untouched plate. At least Emily had eaten with a good appetite. This lunch couldn’t be called a date. Maybe he could book it as a business dinner.

When the waiter came with the bill, he paid and left a generous tip. A new thought occurred to him that would tie Emily to the agency. He would charge the meal to Emily’s expense account as a hostess. After all, he had returned the clutch she had forgotten at her last meeting with Alexander. He had also informed her of another meeting with the billionaire. So this dinner had only taken place because of her. 

With a small, self-satisfied smile, he pulled out his phone, opened the business application, and put the bill for the meal on Emily’s expense account. He was pleased to see the three-figure amount she now owed the agency.

“Just you wait, Emily Saron, I’m going to convince you of me somehow.”