Chapter 79: No Liberty, No Privileges

Emerald’s POV

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes earlier than the time I had reserved the table.

The moment I stepped inside, I could tell that I had made the right choice. The place was quiet and elegant, with soft lighting, polished tables, and enough space between each one to give diners a sense of privacy.

It was the kind of restaurant where people came to have conversations they didn’t want everyone else hearing.

A hostess greeted me and confirmed my reservation before leading me to our table. Michael wasn’t there yet.

I sat down and placed my purse and the document beside me. A few seconds later, I checked my phone and saw his reply to my earlier message.

"I’m close."

That was enough to tell me I wouldn’t be waiting long.

I put my phone away and looked around the restaurant. Unlike the last time I had spent time with him at his condo, there was no work waiting in front of me, no files spread across a table, and no reason for me to feel as though I had to be careful with every word I said.

This was simply lunch.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

Less than a minute later, I looked toward the entrance and saw him walk in. Our eyes met almost immediately.

Michael paused for a moment. I knew that look. He was taking in the fact that I looked different from how he usually saw me at school or anywhere else here in Boston.

He walked toward me, and I stood. "Good afternoon, Michael."

"Good afternoon, Emerald." His eyes rested on me for another moment before he said, "You look nice."

I smiled. "Thank you."

I had wondered whether he would notice. Apparently, he did.

"You look good too," I added.

He gave me a small smile before pulling out his chair and sitting down.

Michael was dressed well, but there was nothing overly formal about him. He looked comfortable, which somehow made him look even more polished.

A female waiter approached our table with two menus. "Good afternoon. May I get you something to drink while you look through the menu?"

I glanced at Michael. "What kind of wine do you drink?"

He smiled slightly. "Red."

I nodded and turned toward the waiter. "We will have a bottle of that, please."

"Certainly." She took the order and left the menus with us.

Michael glanced at me. "You already knew what you wanted?"

"Not exactly. I just knew I wanted wine."

He chuckled. "I see."

We began going through the menu together, occasionally pointing out something that looked interesting. By the time the waiter returned with the wine, we had both made our choices.

She poured the wine into our glasses and waited for our meal orders.

I placed mine first, and Michael gave his afterwards. The waiter collected the menus and left.

I picked up my glass but didn’t drink yet. "I should have asked you this days earlier," I said. "How was your trip to LA?"

"It went well."

"You were able to sort everything out?"

"I’m sorting things out slowly."

I nodded. "I hope everything works out."

"It will."

There was no concern in his voice, only the calm certainty I had become familiar with.

"Then here’s to everything I’ve managed to accomplish so far." I lifted my glass. "And thank you," I added.

He smiled and lifted his glass. "To your progress."

Our glasses touched lightly. I took a sip. For a few minutes, we talked about nothing particularly important. It was surprisingly easy.

Perhaps that was because we had already crossed the awkward stage of getting to know each other.

We had spent enough time together outside the classroom for me to feel comfortable sitting across from him without constantly reminding myself that he was still my professor.

A few minutes later, the waiter returned with our meals. She placed the dishes in front of us before leaving.

I looked across the table at him. "So, how did I do in the test?"

Michael chuckled. "You did well enough."

"That doesn’t sound very convincing." I tilted my head to the side.

"It wasn’t supposed to."

I smiled. "So you won’t tell me my score?"

"I didn’t say that," he said, staring at me while chewing the food in his mouth slowly.

"Then tell me."

He pointed his fork at me. "You will find out when everyone else does."

I sighed dramatically. "I thought we were close enough for you to cut me some slack."

He looked at me with an amused expression. "I’m not giving you any liberty or privileges."

I laughed. "That’s harsh."

"You need to try harder."

I shook my head. "You really take your professor duties seriously."

"I do." He took another bite before adding, "The closer we become outside the classroom, the more I would consider breaking protocol for you."

I almost laughed with my mouth full. "That’s supposed to encourage me?"

"It should."

I laughed again. But as I continued eating, I found myself thinking about his words. Was he joking or was there some truth hidden behind them?

I couldn’t tell. Either way, I decided not to ask.

We continued eating and talking until the plates were cleared away.

The waiter returned a short while later and placed a chocolate mousse cake between us. "Dessert," she said before walking away.

I picked up my fork almost immediately. The cake was delicious. I took another bite, then took a sip of wine. I immediately regretted it. The combination was terrible.

I shifted my attention back to Michael. "I don’t think this wine and cake were meant to be together."

He laughed. "I didn’t recommend the cake."

"Exactly. So this is entirely your fault," I said.

"My fault?" He raised a brow.

I nodded. "Yes."

He shook his head, clearly amused. I decided to forgo the wine and enjoy the cake on its own.

After a while, Michael asked me for the documents, so I just picked up the envelope from the table and handed it to him.

He opened it and removed the documents relating to the holding company and the three-per cent share transfer.

I watched as he went through them carefully.

He didn’t rush. He read each page, checked the details, and occasionally turned back to something he had already examined.

I continued eating my cake while waiting. It was that good.

After several minutes, Michael finally arranged the papers back inside the envelope and handed it to me.

"There is no problem with them," he said. "Everything is perfect."

I smiled. "Good."

Though I couldn’t tell the reason, hearing those words from him made me very happy.

I placed the envelope back on the table and took another bite of my cake.