After the meal, a few slices of cake were served. Sullivan raised a brow at this. He had not planned to stay for dessert. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen before taking out Bloom's crumpled paper from his pocket. It was a listed itinerary for the date. Looking at the activities, Sullivan briefly wondered where Bloom had gotten all this information.
It included such things as opening the door and pulling out chairs for the painter, as well as complimenting her outfit. Was he going on a date or playing as a servant? He crumpled the paper and tossed it on the table. He had done none of those things and he didn't plan to.
"Are you finished?" he asked. The painter, who was about to bite into her tiramisu, paused and blinked at him.
"If you're done, we should leave. It's getting late."
She paused and dropped the fork.
But before she could stand up, a shadow hovered over the table. Vincent grinned down at them.
"Is the cake not to your liking, madame?"
She immediately shook her head. "Oh no, no, it's delicious."
Then she turned to face Sullivan with a helpless look.
"We're leaving, send the bill," Sullivan stood up. A firm grip kept him in his seat. Vincent pressed down on his shoulder, signature smile still in place.
"I don't think it's too late to leave after the beautiful lady finishes her meal. We wouldn't want a certain someone to be upset."
"...Oh, err," Esther interrupted, "I'm fine, really. I'm sure Mr. Narok has a busy day tomorrow, and I think I've eaten more than enough already." She stood up, and almost immediately, a server brought over her coat.
She bowed. "The food was really awesome, thank you."
Sullivan glared at Vincent and shook his hand off. Unfazed, Vincent remained smiling. "Don't worry about the bill. Romantic dates are on the house."
Sullivan cursed under his breath. The bastard definitely did it on purpose. He turned to see the painter frowning at him. He could see confusion and, oddly enough, rejection in her eyes. Who the hell was she to reject him? Sullivan blinked and shook his head. Bah, what did he care if she rejected him or not? Matter of fact, it was better if she rejected him.
"Let's go," he said calmly.
The drive home was quiet and, unlike the previous date, this silence was discomfiting. She had sat so close to the door he was surprised she didn't just jump out. He got down first and slammed the door. He made to walk inside when he saw the little pink figure at the entrance. He swallowed his annoyance and went around the car. He pulled open the painter's door and held out his hand. Her guarded expression seemed to regard him as a viper.
He helped her down and led her to the door. Bloom was gone, but he was sure she was hiding somewhere, watching them.
He decided to see it to the end and led her to her room's door. Once at her door, he turned around to leave when he remembered something.
"Oh, and Miss Powés? We'll be having lunch tomorrow at the burger joint, so meet..."
"No, thank you," she blurted.
Sullivan chuckled. "What?"
She looked surprised as well, but under Sullivan's stare, she squared her shoulders and repeated, "No, thank you!"
Sullivan returned to her side and, with a mocking grin, asked, "May I know why?"
She shifted back, pressing into her door to get away from him. "I... I'd like to know why as well. Why do I have to have lunch with you?"
"Because I said so..." Sullivan mused.
"It's not written in the contract," she shot back.
Sullivan raised a brow and looked down at her. "Indeed it's not, but isn't it common sense to obey your employer in something so little as a meal together?"
Her eyes widened comically, and her red-tainted lips parted. From his position, Sullivan breathed in the faint scent of cherry blossoms. It reminded him of his travels in Hikaridia.
"I... don't want to," she mumbled under her breath.
Sullivan wasn't sure what pushed him. Lust? She wasn't that beautiful. Perhaps it was the seductive outfit, her innocent look, or that he was simply a bastard, but he bent down and their lips met in a soft kiss. She froze for a second, then she pushed him away and a stinging pain on his cheek brought him back to his senses.
Sullivan looked down at her. She was wiping her mouth with her sleeve, and her eyes could spew venom. Sullivan stepped back. Without a word, he turned and walked away. Walking up the stairs to his room, he noticed a tiny figure scurry off in the corridor. He gritted his teeth, but he was in no mood to deal with the cheeky little brat.
He stormed down the dark hallway. It felt so empty and lonely. It only housed three rooms: his and Bloom's bedrooms, as well as his study. Since the little thing moved a floor down to be closer to the painter, this floor had become empty.
He rubbed his head and blew a sigh. His fingers itched for the familiar burn of a cigar stick; he needed the nicotine to calm down. He entered his office and unlocked the drawer. He frowned when he didn't see the familiar packet. He dug through the contents of the drawer and touched a plastic bag. It was filled with sweets. He groaned and cursed under his breath. Ms. Reid must have gotten to it. He tore open a sweet and popped it into his mouth. The vanilla flavor with a hint of lemon reminded him of a certain kiss. He spat out the poor sweet and picked up a file. A second later, he shut it. Perhaps a little work would take his mind off the unwitting temptress.
He turned on his computer and almost immediately, it dinged with an incoming email. He went straight and clicked it open. Reading the contents, his expression turned darker by the second.