The Invitation by Vi Keeland(41)

Our lunch meeting had turned into a party. Robyn, the host of the show, invited her co-host and a segment producer, the head buyer was bringing someone along, and Jack had also decided to grace us with his presence. With so many people, and Stella wanting to bring sample boxes for everyone, I drove to make it easier. My car was parked at a garage a few blocks away from the office, so I left early and told Stella to meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes.

She was waiting in front of the building when I pulled up to the light at the corner. It gave me a chance to watch her without her knowing. Two large flowerpots sat on either side of the main entrance to the office. They were old wine barrels, and I’d never given them much thought, though I passed them every day, other than to notice that building maintenance changed the flowers out every so often. I watched from a distance as Stella looked around, almost as if to see if anyone was paying attention, and then leaned over. I’d thought she was going to smell the flowers, but she bent lower and brought her nose to the barrel beneath. Did she just smell the pot?

I chuckled to myself at how nutty she was. Anytime I thought I knew what she was going to say or do, I quickly found my assumption wrong. It was oddly refreshing. Within five minutes of meeting most women, I could guess the salad they were going to order, or that yoga or tennis was their hobby of choice. But not Stella—there was nothing cookie-cutter about her.

She stepped over to the flowerpot on the other side of the doorway and again checked to see if the coast was clear before going in for a sniff. Only this time, she didn’t bend at the knees. She bent in half at the waist. Which gave me an unobstructed view of her ass—her phenomenal freaking ass.

Great. Just great.

I nailed the gas as soon as the light changed and pulled up in front of the building. I’d brought the boxes downstairs to the lobby before I went to the parking garage, so I got out and headed inside.

“Why don’t you get in since I’m double parked, and I’ll grab the stuff from security?” I told her as I passed.

“Oh…okay.”

After I finished loading the trunk, I slammed it shut and waited for traffic to slow enough so I could open the driver’s side door and get in without being clipped.

“Thank you for taking care of that,” Stella said.

“Of course.”

I buckled. “We have an hour before we have to be at the restaurant, but it’ll probably take us almost that long with this traffic.” Looking over my shoulder, it took a while before there was a gap in the cars big enough to pull away from the curb.

Stella sniffed a few times. “Is this brand new?”

My car was actually three years old, but it looked new since I didn’t drive very much.

“It’s a few years old.”

“It still has that new-car smell.”

“Oh yeah? Do you like that smell better than the flowerpots outside the office?”

Stella sighed. “You caught that, huh?”

“I did indeed.”

“I was curious if they were actually aged barrels once used for wine.”

“Were they?”

“I’m not sure. All I could smell was dirt.”

I smirked. “Large quantities of soil tend to smell that way.”

“What kind of a car is this? The interior is so pretty.”

“It’s a Maybach S 650.”

“Is that an impressive car?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. Are you impressed?”

She smiled. “Not really. I don’t drive, so I don’t know too much about cars.”

“You mean you don’t have a car because you live here in the City?”

“No, I mean I don’t have a driver’s license. I had a permit once, and my ex tried to teach me years ago, but I hit a fire hydrant rounding a corner and, well, that was the end of that.”

We inched our way uptown slowly. At one point, a car came out of nowhere and cut me off, so I had to slam on my brakes. Stella and I both had our seatbelts on, so we were fine, but her purse flew off the seat and dumped onto the floor. It landed upside down, and when she went to pick it up, the contents spilled all over the place.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

When she leaned forward to collect her belongings, I noticed the box with the diary from yesterday.

“My ex-wife used to write in one of those every once in a while. I’d find her writing in it after we argued. Pretty sure all she did was bitch. Isn’t that mostly what people use that for? To vent?”

“Sometimes they’re like that,” Stella said. She straightened the book in its box and put the top back on. “I’ve gotten a few of those. The seller usually posts some screenshots of pages to give you a sample. That helps me rule out a lot, but occasionally you can’t tell from just a short excerpt.”

“Have you started reading Nico’s secrets?”

“It’s Marco, and yes, I did.”

“Well…how was it?”

Stella sighed. “I read almost half the diary in one night.”

I laughed. “That good, huh?”

She held her hand to her chest. “He’s in love with an older woman. Amalia is nineteen years his senior and the librarian for the small village they live in. He’s a grape farmer. She thinks it’s just infatuation and will pass, but he sounds like he’s head over heels for her. He’s thinking about bringing another woman around, hoping to spark some jealousy to make her admit she has feelings for him, too. But I’m worried it’s going to backfire and push her further away.”