Chapter 1996
Ivy and Quinton had been in touch a lot lately and she’d even roped him into doing quite a few favors for her.
Ivy was well aware of Quinton’s knack for getting things done, so having him teach Clara a lesson wouldn’t have been a tall order for
him.
But Ivy wanted to handle this herself.
She was determined to give as good as she got from anyone who had wronged her, convinced that it was the only way she’d ever grow
stronger.
“I can take care of it myself. Besides, Quinton’s been a huge help to me recently. He’s your secretary, not my errand boy. I can’t keep piling work on him.” Ivy pressed her lips together, offering a faint smile.
For some reason, that smile, which revealed a hint of vulnerability, made him ache for her.
“Let’s go,” Balfour said as he stepped forward and casually took her hand, “I’m taking you out to eat.”
Before Ivy could even process what was happening, she found herself being ushered out the door, “Uh, Balfour, wait a minute.”
He strode forward with her in tow as if he didn’t hear her at all.
Ivy stopped resisting. Looking down at their intertwined hands, her cheeks were flushing and her mind was wandering.
When had she started to feel comfortable with Balfour’s touch? Without realizing it, their relationship seemed to have shifted from what
it once was.
When they reached the car, Balfour opened the passenger door for her. “Hop in,” he claimed.
“Where are we going?” Ivy asked. She was suddenly conscious of her free hand and somehow she felt unsure where to bestow it.
Balfour let out an exasperated sigh as he gently nudged her into the seat, “Where else will we go? We will get some grub.”
He drove them to a nearby diner and ordered from the waiter, “The usual.”
The waiter, who understood his meaning immediately, served all the dishes in five minutes, “Mr. Howard, your meal is ready.”
Once the waiter had left, Ivy eyed the spread with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, “Balfour, are you sure this food was made fresh? How did everything come out so fast after we sat down?”
“This place keeps a table’s regular order of mine. If I show up, they serve it; if I don’t, it’s their staff meal.” Balfour ladled some soup into a bowl and passed it to Ivy.
Ivy was once again struck by the lavishness of the gesture; an entire table’s worth of food prepped daily was no small expense.
“Do you come here often?” she asked.
“Now and then.” Balfour served himself some soup with an air of refinement and took a sip.
Ivy pouted, thinking about how lavish he was as she started to drink the soup.
The soup seemed simple enough, but one taste revealed a complexity of flavors Ivy had never experienced before. “What’s in this soup? It’s amazing!” She exclaimed.
“Why all the questions? Just eat and enjoy,” Balfour chided, warming his stomach with the soup before moving on to the other dishes.
In truth, Balfour had skipped a meal to catch a performance that was not to be missed.
“You seem to have a pretty good handle on fine dining, Mr. Howard!” Ivy mumbled before focusing on her meal.
The dishes looked unassuming, but the flavors were unlike anything she’d ever tasted.
After a while, Balfour looked at her intently, “So, what’s your plan going forward?”
“Me?” Ivy furrowed her brows, pondering for a moment. “With that video in hand, Clara won’t dare bother me for a short while. I plan to keep job hunting. The sooner I find work, the sooner I can start earning my own way.”
