She Sat At The Wrong Table On A Blind Date — But The Billionaire Refused To Let Her Leave
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.”
Honey Laced with Poison
The lounge was exactly what she’d expected: leather furniture, a fully stocked bar, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city.
What she hadn’t expected was the woman already there, seated elegantly on the sofa with a glass of champagne. She was everything Grace wasn’t—tall, blonde, wearing a red dress that probably cost more than Grace’s car.
She looked up when Grace entered, and her perfectly painted lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“You must be the teacher,”
she said, her voice like honey laced with poison.
“I’m Victoria.”
Grace’s stomach dropped.
“Of course. Of course Victoria would be here.”
“I didn’t realize anyone else was waiting,”
Grace said carefully.
“Oh, I’m not waiting. I’m on the board now. Daddy bought me a seat last month.”
Victoria stood, moving with predatory grace.
“When I heard about Richard’s latest disaster, I simply had to come offer my support. Marcus and I always handled his father best together.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
Victoria laughed, a tinkling sound that set Grace’s teeth on edge.
“Oh, you’re delightful. So earnest, so genuine. Marcus always did have a weakness for strays.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t take it personally, darling. Marcus goes through these phases—his salvation complex, I call it. He finds someone who needs rescuing, throws himself into fixing their problems, and then gets bored once the challenge is gone.”
Victoria sipped her champagne.
“Last year, it was that disaster of a restaurant he bought for that chef. Before that, the community center in Queens. And now, a teacher from Brooklyn who probably can’t even afford the bread at Leernarda.”
Grace felt heat rise in her cheeks, but she kept her voice steady.
“You seem to know a lot about Marcus’s recent activities for an ex-girlfriend.”
“Ex?”
Victoria’s smile widened.
“Is that what he told you? How precious. Marcus and I are inevitable, darling. We break up, we make up, but we always find our way back. It’s been that way for 5 years.”
“Then why aren’t you in there helping him now?”
For the first time, Victoria’s composure cracked slightly.
“He’s being stubborn. But he’ll come around; he always does when he realizes these little experiments of his don’t work. You can’t build a relationship on fantasy, and that’s what you are to him—a fantasy of normalcy, of simplicity.”
She continued:
“But Marcus Sterling doesn’t get simple. His world doesn’t allow it.”
Before Grace could respond, the conference room doors burst open. Marcus’s father stumbled out, his face flushed with anger and alcohol.
“This isn’t over!”
he was shouting.
“You think you can just cut me out? I made you!”
Marcus followed, his expression carved from stone.
“You’re drunk, Dad. James will take you home.”
“I don’t need your driver! I don’t need your help! I don’t need—”
Richard Sterling stopped mid-rant when he saw Victoria. His entire demeanor changed, a sloppy smile replacing the anger.
“Victoria, beautiful as ever. Maybe you can talk sense into my son.”
“Hello, Richard,”
Victoria purred, moving to kiss his cheek.
“You’re looking well.”
It was such an obvious lie that Grace almost laughed. Richard Sterling looked terrible—disheveled, unsteady, a shadow of what he must have once been.
