She Sat At The Wrong Table On A Blind Date — But The Billionaire Refused To Let Her Leave
A Midnight Detour
Marcus was quiet for a moment, then pulled out his phone. Grace felt a stab of disappointment. Was he bored already?
But instead of checking messages, he made a call.
“James, cancel my meeting tomorrow morning. Reschedule with Tokyo for next week.”
He paused, listening.
“I don’t care what they say. They’ve waited this long for the contract; they can wait another week.”
“You can’t just cancel international business meetings,”
Grace protested when he hung up.
“I just did.”
He signaled for the check.
“I want to show you something.”
“Marcus, it’s already past 10. I have school tomorrow.”
“Trust me.”
There was something boyish in his expression, an excitement that transformed him from corporate mogul to something more approachable.
“Give me 1 hour. If you’re not impressed, I’ll personally drive you home and never bother you again.”
Grace knew she should say no. She had 28 eight-year-olds expecting her at 7:30 tomorrow morning, papers to grade, and lessons to plan.
But Marcus Sterling was looking at her like she was the only person in the entire restaurant, maybe the entire city, and she found herself nodding.
The check arrived, and Grace glimpsed the total: her entire month’s rent. Marcus signed without looking, adding what appeared to be a very generous tip.
Then he was standing, offering her his hand, and she was taking it, letting him lead her out of the restaurant. Brian was gone from table 12, she noticed. She felt a twinge of guilt but pushed it away; Jennifer would understand eventually.
Marcus’s driver was waiting outside in a black town car that probably cost more than most people’s houses. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets gleaming under the streetlights.
Marcus gave an address Grace didn’t recognize, then settled back beside her, close enough that she could smell his cologne—something subtle and expensive that made her think of forests after rain.
“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?”
she asked, only half joking.
“Would you mind terribly if I was?”
The way he said it, with that slight smile playing at his lips, made her stomach flip.
“My students would miss me.”
“Then I’ll have you back by morning. Promise.”
Gardens in the Sky
The car stopped at a building in lower Manhattan, one of those glass and steel towers that seemed to stretch forever into the sky. Marcus led her through a private entrance, past a security guard who simply nodded, and into an elevator that required a special key.
“The penthouse?”
Grace guessed.
“The roof.”
The elevator opened onto a garden that took Grace’s breath away. It wasn’t just a roof; it was an oasis floating above the city.
Trees and flowering plants created winding paths, water features provided gentle background music, and scattered throughout were benches and hidden alcoves. String lights created a canopy of stars to rival the real ones hidden by city lights.
“This is impossible,”
Grace breathed, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.
“This is what I really do,”
Marcus said, watching her reaction with obvious pleasure.
“Every building I create has one of these secret gardens in the sky. Most of the tenants don’t even know they exist.”
“Why keep them secret?”
“Because the moment they become amenities, they become status symbols. But then they’re not gardens anymore; they’re just another thing to own, to show off. This way, they’re discoveries—gifts for people who bother to explore.”
Grace ran her fingers along a jasmine vine, releasing its sweet scent into the night air.
“Your mother would have loved this too.”
“She designed it, actually. Well, the concept.”
He explained she drew it out on a napkin one day when she was going through chemo. She said if she had to be stuck in the city for treatment, she wanted to take a piece of the countryside with her.
Marcus’s voice caught slightly.
“This was the first one I built. Every garden since has been a variation of her original design.”
“How many are there?”
“43 in New York. Another hundred or so scattered around the world.”
Grace turned to look at him, really look at him. In the soft light of the garden, with vulnerability written across his features, he looked nothing like the billionaire she’d read about in magazines.
He looked like a son who missed his mother, a man who built gardens in the sky because someone he loved had drawn them on a napkin.
“Why are you showing me this?”
she asked softly.
Marcus moved closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
“Because something tells me you’re the kind of person who can appreciate a secret garden. Because you thank the hostess three times. Because you use your own money to buy supplies for kids who aren’t yours. Because you tried to leave when you found out who I was.”
“That’s a lot of becauses.”
“I could keep going.”
His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone.
“Because you have paint under your fingernails from what I’m guessing was today’s art project. Because you’ve checked your phone exactly once all evening, and that was to turn it to silent. Because when you smile, it reaches your eyes.”
Grace’s heart was racing now, her skin tingling where he touched her.
“Marcus—”
“I know this is crazy,”
he said.
“I know we just met, that you came here for someone else, that I’m probably completely wrong for you in every possible way. But I haven’t felt this alive in years, Grace. Not since—”
He stopped, shaking his head.
“Not since what?”
“Not since before everything became about money and mergers and maintaining an empire I’m not even sure I want anymore.”
