She Sat At The Wrong Table On A Blind Date — But The Billionaire Refused To Let Her Leave
The Shadow of Sterling
The ride to the Sterling Enterprises building was tense. Marcus made three phone calls, each more heated than the last. Grace watched the city blur past, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
This wasn’t her world—these midnight emergencies, these multi-million dollar disasters. The building’s lobby was all marble and glass, empty except for security guards who nodded respectfully as Marcus strode past.
The executive elevator shot them up to the 40th floor, opening onto a reception area that screamed money and power. Voices were coming from a conference room—angry voices.
Marcus squeezed Grace’s hand.
“You can wait here if you prefer.”
“I’ll come with you,”
she heard herself say.
The conference room was chaos. Papers covered the massive table, five men in expensive suits were arguing, and at the center of it all stood an older version of Marcus.
He had the same sharp features and gray eyes, but with silver hair and lines carved by years of hard living.
“Finally,”
Marcus’s father said, slurring slightly.
“The golden boy arrives to save the day.”
Grace could smell the whiskey from across the room. Marcus’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained level.
“Gentlemen, if you could give me 5 minutes with my father.”
The suits filed out, shooting curious glances at Grace. When they were alone, Marcus’s father collapsed into a chair.
“Don’t start, Marcus. I know what you’re going to say.”
“Do you? Because I’m running out of ways to say it, Dad. You promised Yamamoto exclusive rights to the waterfront development—rights we’d already sold to the Brennan Group.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“A lie,”
Marcus corrected sharply.
“You were drunk at the country club, trying to impress your golf buddies, and you made promises with my company’s reputation.”
His father’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“Your company, boy? I built Sterling Enterprises from nothing.”
“And then you nearly destroyed it.”
Marcus’s voice was quiet but devastating.
“You drank away our contracts, gambled away our credit, and if Mom hadn’t begged me to come back from college to fix it, we’d have lost everything.”
“Your mother never understood business.”
“My mother understood that business means nothing if you lose your integrity in the process.”
The older Sterling noticed Grace then, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.
“And who’s this? Another gold digger looking for a piece of the Sterling fortune.”
“Careful,”
Marcus warned, his voice dropping to something dangerous.
“Actually, I’m a teacher,”
Grace said, stepping forward. She’d dealt with enough difficult parents to know that sometimes direct was best.
“And I was just leaving.”
“No,”
Marcus said quickly.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“A teacher?”
His father laughed, ugly and mocking.
“That’s rich. What’s the angle, sweetheart? Pretending you don’t care about money? That act might work on my son, but—”
“Enough!”
Marcus moved between Grace and his father.
“Grace, would you mind waiting outside? This won’t take long.”
She nodded, grateful to escape the toxic atmosphere. But as she reached the door, she heard Marcus’s father say something that made her freeze.
“She’s nothing like Victoria, you know. At least Victoria came from the right family, understood this world.”
“Victoria understood money,”
Marcus replied coldly.
“Which is why she’s currently married to that pharmaceutical heir in Boston.”
“At least she was honest about what she wanted. This one, playing the innocent teacher…”
Echoes of Victoria
Grace didn’t hear Marcus’s response because she was already in the hallway, her cheeks burning. Victoria—of course there was a Victoria.
There was always a Victoria in stories like this: the ex who fit perfectly into his world, who understood midnight business emergencies and hostile fathers.
She found the lady’s room and splashed cold water on her face. What was she doing here?
This morning her biggest worry had been whether she had enough construction paper for Friday’s art project. Now she was standing in a building worth more than some small countries, watching a man she’d known for 3 hours fight with his alcoholic father over million-dollar deals.
Her phone buzzed; Jennifer was texting frantically.
“Brian says you never showed. What happened?”
Before she could respond, another text appeared.
“Wait, someone just sent me a photo from Leernarda. Is that you with Marcus Sterling?”
Grace turned off her phone; she couldn’t deal with Jennifer right now. When she returned to the conference room area, she could hear Marcus on the phone, his tone professional but firm.
Through the glass doors, she could see his father slumped in a chair, looking defeated.
“The Brennan contract stands,”
Marcus was saying.
“But we’ll offer Yamamoto the Harbor Point development instead. Same square footage, better location, actually. Yes, I’ll personally fly to Tokyo tomorrow to smooth things over.”
“So much for canceling that meeting,”
Grace thought. Marcus ended the call and saw her through the glass. He came out immediately, leaving his father with one of the returned executives.
“I’m sorry,”
he said immediately.
“You shouldn’t have had to see that.”
“Is it always like this?”
“Only when he drinks, which is more often than not lately.”
Marcus looked exhausted suddenly, the weight of carrying his father’s failures visible in every line of his body.
“I’ve tried interventions, rehab, everything. He was sober for 2 years after Mom died, but…”
“But grief finds its own timeline,”
Grace finished softly.
“My grandfather was the same way after my grandmother passed. The bottle became his best friend and worst enemy all at once.”
Marcus studied her face.
“And yet you don’t run screaming from my family dysfunction.”
“Every family has its struggles. They just don’t usually involve international business deals.”
“Most family struggles don’t make the Wall Street Journal, either.”
He paused, then added quietly:
“The last woman I dated seriously, Victoria… she loved the drama of it. The midnight emergencies, the power plays, the constant chaos. She said it made her feel important, being part of something so big.”
“And when the chaos ended?”
“She created more. Started rumors, played board members against each other, nearly caused a hostile takeover because she was bored.”
Marcus shook his head.
“I thought I loved her. Turns out I just love the idea of someone who understood this world.”
Grace could see the pain behind his words, the betrayal that still stung.
“So you started going on blind dates hoping to find someone who didn’t know your world at all?”
“Except I found you at the wrong table instead.”
He moved closer, his hand finding hers.
“Grace, I know tonight has been insane. I know you probably think—”
A security guard appeared.
“Mr. Sterling, your father is requesting you back in the conference room.”
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”
When they were alone again, he turned to Grace with an expression of resignation mixed with hope.
“I have to handle this. It’ll probably take another hour, maybe two. I can have my driver take you home, or…”
He hesitated.
“Or you could wait. Let me make this right. Let me show you that it’s not always like this.”
Grace thought about her empty apartment, about the papers she should be grading, and about the sensible life she’d built that definitely didn’t include billionaires with complicated fathers and midnight business crises.
Then she thought about that kiss in the garden, about the way Marcus had looked when he talked about his mother, and about the secret gardens he built in the sky.
“I’ll wait,”
Grace said, and the relief that flooded Marcus’s face made her decision worth it.
He kissed her forehead gently.
“There’s a private lounge through those doors. Make yourself comfortable. This shouldn’t take too long.”
