A real smile, not the almost smile from earlier. "You made it," she said. Barely. Ethan slid into the booth across from her, very aware of how out of place he probably looked. I should have changed first.
If you'd changed, I would have known you were trying too hard. She pushed a mug of coffee across the table toward him. Black. You seem like a black coffee person. Good guess.
He wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into his cold fingers. So, this is weird, right? Extremely weird, but also kind of perfect. Viven finished. Yeah.
A waitress appeared, looking deeply uninterested in anything except taking their order. What'll it be? Vivien glanced at Ethan. I'm getting a burger. The biggest, greasiest burger they have.
I've been eating salmon and quinoa at business dinners for 3 weeks, and I'm done. Two burgers, Ethan said. And fries. The waitress grunted and disappeared. They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the fluorescent lights filling the space between them.
Outside, rain continued to assault the windows, turning the city into a watercolor blur. "I Googled you," Vivian said finally. Ethan's eyebrows rose. "Yeah. " Cole's Auto Repair, Georgetown District, three-star average on Google. Most complaints about the location and the building condition.
That's fair. The building is a dump. The five-star reviews all say you're the most honest mechanic in Seattle. Those people are lying to make me feel better. Viven laughed, and it was a good sound, genuine.
Do you always deflect compliments? Do you always research people before having coffee with them? Always. She wrapped her hands around her own mug. It's a habit.
Know your opponent before you sit down at the table. Is that what I am? An opponent? I don't know what you are yet. Fair enough.
The waitress returned with two massive burgers and a mountain of fries. They ate in comfortable silence for a while. The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled with small talk or performance. "So," Ethan said eventually, wiping grease from his fingers. "Investment banker? " Vivian paused midbite.
"What? That's what Sarah told me. You're an investment banker. " "I'm not an investment banker. " "Then what are you? " She sat down her burger very carefully. I run a company. What kind of company?
Manufacturing industrial components mostly. Some tech development. We operate in 17 countries and employ about 40,000 people. Ethan stared at her. You're joking.
I don't joke about my company. Hart Industries, he said slowly, pieces clicking into place. You're that Vivian Hart. Guilty. Jesus Christ.
Is that a problem? Ethan sat back in the booth trying to process this. Viven Hart, he'd seen her name in the news, on business websites, probably on the side of buildings he'd driven past without paying attention. She wasn't just successful. She was stratospherically, impossibly, almost obscenely successful, and he'd made her hold an umbrella while he fixed her car in the rain.
"I think I might throw up," he said. Vivien's expression shuddered immediately. I see. No, not because he ran a hand through his hair. I just fixed a billionaire's car and charged her nothing.