Date The CEO.com

Chapter 294: French for Bar? Anyone?

Eve, Cale, Mikael and Jordan arrived at the nearest bar in the vicinity.

It was located at the rooftop of a building. To reach it, they had to climb a sheen spiral staircase made from stainless steel. It could accommodate up to four lines of people. Twinkle lights decorated the open area of the bar while its main attraction stood under a rectangular tent.

Stools lined the half-moon shaped bar counter against one side of the rooftop. The rest of the furniture was a mix of couches that formed a square with their backs facing one another plus wooden tables and chairs that were provided for both small and large groups. 

"I still can't believe Ambryan let you go," Cale repeated for the nth time. He passed by the open-air lounge and headed for the tent. He had chosen a long-sleeved navy blue dress shirt patterned with white birds—pairing it with cream colored trousers and tan shoes.

"Fine. I'll tell you what happened." Eve sighed dramatically, picking a crop top and a pair of jeans. She finished the look with a matching leather jacket and boots. "I told him about the bar and never waited for a reply."

"Wait, so you didn't ask him?"

"I wasn't asking him. I was informing him. There's a difference."

Cale grinned in approval. "Clever girl."

"One of the reasons I'm happy to be single," Mikael spoke up from behind them. The group picked out one of the square tables. He wore a simple white shirt and a black fleece jacket to go along with his denim pants. 

Taking their seats, Cale gave him a look. "You just need to find the right kind of fun girl."

Mikael brushed off the statement. Then, he froze for a split second. "Speaking of finding girls…"

"You wanna hook up with the French?" Eve cut in, a smirk on her lips. She had a feeling where this was going and wanted to disguise herself. "Do you even know the language?"

He glared in her direction. "That's not what I was going to say."

"What is it then?" Cale frowned.

Mikael massaged his temple. "A random number texted me the other day."

He had ignored the first message. Just before he could block the number, he was called on set. More messages had come in after he finished the photoshoot. He made sure to block the number then and there. He had seen this before.

He was determined not to play by their rules, refusing to give what they wanted:

Attention.

"And?" Cale pressed. He slammed his hand on the table to get the male model's attention. "Don't leave me hanging like that, Mikael."

Jordan snorted from his chair. Rolling his chocolate eyes, the dreadlocks over his forehead shook. "And nothing, Cale. Mikael always ignores them. He's too uptight."

It was sort of sad at this point. How else was Mikael going to think about dating? He never took the initiative in any possible way. Not a text, not a call, not a face to face conversation… his first instinct was to flee when it came to small talk.

Mikael shifted his glare towards Jordan. "I am not."

His best friend gave another snort. "Oh, yeah? Prove it."

He pointed a finger at him, lifting a knowing eyebrow. "That's a trap. I'm not falling for it."

"Like I said. Uptight," Jordan repeated to the others.

Eve relaxed in her seat. Thank goodness for Jordan's intervention. It also seemed like Mikael was used to receiving strange messages. Maybe it was a common hobby among his fans. Some of them sure seemed like the type during the 'scandal' Charlee Edwards had initiated last time.

"Jordan," Mikael warned.

Scoffing, Jordan pushed the finger away. "I'm not telling you to hook up with her. Just meant you should try holding a conversation. Then, you can decide if she is worth your time or not. Simple."

Mikael opened his mouth to protest and paused. No matter how many times he'd say it, Jordan wouldn't believe it. He needed to get the evidence which proved that answering random numbers never led to a good thing. Shouldn't they be worried about this breach of privacy?

Was the stranger suddenly not a possible threat?

Either way, Mikael bared his teeth. "Fine. I'll reply. But only because I want to prove my point."

Jordan raised his hands in surrender. "Be my guest. With your charming self, I bet you'll realize you don't need to block numbers. They'd leave on their own."

"I'll take that bet."

Eve stood up. "I'll get us some drinks. What do you want?"

She received three responses and headed for the bar counter. A bartender noticed her approach, smiling as they made eye contact. Eve returned the hospitality with a sheepish expression. "Is there a chance that you speak English?"

"Yes, there is."

Relief swelled in Eve's chest. "Oh, good."

She repeated the orders and picked a martini for herself. While waiting, she sat on a stool. Her fingers drummed over the countertop. The conversations around her were naturally in French. She couldn't understand a thing. It was both an interesting and a terrifying revelation. 

She should learn the language a bit since she'll be staying for three months.

"You're not French, are you?" A voice asked from behind her.

Eve glanced over her shoulder and scowled. 

A boyish face met her gaze. The young man held a beer bottle with one hand and casually propped his elbow on the counter, staying near her. Two perfect rows of pearly white teeth grinned at her. He definitely knew how good he looked.

But Eve had met better looking men.

It didn't faze her.

"Judging by your reaction, I guess I was right," he teased, lifting the bottle to his lips.

Eve flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "And how old are you?"

"I'm very mature for my age."

"Riiiight," she drawled, rolling her eyes. The bartender came back with a tray of her drink order. She took it before the young man could offer to help. Then, she said, "Stay in school, kid."

His jaw dropped as Eve left. She carried the tray in one hand and held her drink in the other. To show off a little, she sipped from her cocktail glass without missing a beat. She had worked as a waitress over one summer before. The tray practically weighed nothing.

"One scotch on the rocks, please," another voice called out to her.

Eve gritted her teeth and kept walking. She squeezed herself in narrow spaces just to evade the person. Wasn't this supposed to be France? Why were there so many tourists around? Two in less than half an hour? It was a bit too much.

"Well, that's not the service I hoped for," she heard a little too near than she wanted.

Deciding to change tactics, Eve stopped abruptly and turned around. "Will you—"

A pair of hooded ocre eyes greeted her sight. Dark blonde hair sprouted from his scalp and down to the base of his neck, curling at the ends. His skin looked like golden sand from the beach. It was an unusual sight considering it was near Winter. 

Which meant—at least, according to Eve—he had recently visited a warm place.josei

Which also meant, in her opinion, he had way too much time and money. Something she wouldn't judge a person by if it weren't for his mannerisms.

"Oh, my." The man feigned a gasp and placed his hand over his chest. "Are you that stunned over me? Am I that handsome to you?"

Eve dropped any expression on her face. "I'm taking my leave. Please excuse me."

She spun on her heel, stomping back to the table. The others looked up only when she was close enough. Appetizers and finger food had been served. She placed the tray of drinks on the table and took her seat, drinking almost half of her martini.

Cale snatched her wrist to stop her. "What's gotten into you?"

"Someone just annoyed me," she answered, wiping the corner of her mouth with a tissue. She put the cocktail down and squeezed her forehead. The cold drink had reached her brain. "Ugh, that probably wasn't a good idea."

Mikael checked behind her, scanning the steps she had taken. No one in the bar looked in their direction. Still, he couldn't shake off that something wasn't right. He carefully widened his range and closely studied every person his sight came across.

"Anyone suspicious, Mikael?" Jordan whispered beside him. 

"There doesn't seem to be anyone…" Mikael replied in the same tone. "It might have been just someone who tried to hit on her. Pretty common considering where we are."

"Alright. If you're sure."

Mikael took a long swig of his beer. He actually wasn't sure. His gut told him that they were being watched—but he couldn't find the person. He could only hope that it was pure paranoia. Otherwise, who knew what could happen?

The man leaned against a post, hiding half of himself behind it. He assessed the group from his spot. Anyone who tried to get near him only received the silent treatment. Circling his brandy glass by using his wrist, the ice inside traced the outline of the drinking glass.

His corner lip curled upwards.

"Well, well," he spoke to himself. "And so the lamb had gotten out of her fences. What a fool."