I'm wearing black, like my mood.

My dress has a drapey scoop neckline. Low enough to give a hint of cleavage but not so low that my boobs spill out. The last thing I want is for Sebastian to get the wrong idea.The skirt is modestly mid-thigh. It's Victoria's, and on her, it barely covers her butt. It does have a delicate, sparkly design on the shoulders. Kind of retro-disco era. Probably appealing for a man Sebastian's age.

I slip on my black Jimmy Choos – yes, the ones Griffin had bought for me all those months ago – and idly wonder if Sebastian Engel was alive during the disco era. How old is he, really? I suspect at least forty, possibly forty-five. Maybe even fifty.

Old enough to be my dad. This gives me shivers, and not the good kind. Unlike Victoria, I'm not the kind of woman who wants a much older man to take care of me. Griffin had been seven years older, and that seemed okay, probably because I'd grown up with him.

He was familiar. Another reason why his death hurts even more.

Victoria's lounging on my bed, directing me on what to wear while texting with her lawyer. "Bracelet." She points to my dresser. "The silver bangle."

I blink several times at the jewelry and the dresser. It's as if I've forgotten what I own. Other than that one night at the school party, I haven't dressed up in months. I slip on the chunky bracelet and glance in the mirror. A little girl playing dress up stares back at me.

"Earrings?" I hold up a dangling silver star.

Victoria's red curls bob when she shakes her head, making her look like a sexy Orphan Annie. Or a demented one. I can never tell which. "More subtle. This guy wants a veneer of respectability, while enjoying the thrill of taking an eighteen-year-old to dinner."

I make a gagging noise. "This feels weird. I've been having second thoughts all day. Maybe I was too quick to accept. Maybe I should have suggested coffee instead."

Victoria rolls her brown eyes while flopping onto her back. "It's dinner. Worst case scenario is that he tries to fuck you. You say no – or yes, depending on your mood..."

"Hell no." The idea of a man touching me makes my skin crawl. It's as if my insides are a bubbling cauldron of rage, and if a man touches me, I'll boil over and scorch everything in the city of Miami, leaving only burning embers in my wake.

"Or," she says pointedly, "you say no, kiss him on the cheek and go inside. Best case scenario, you've made a great professional contact."

"Yeah, I guess," I mumble.

Just then, my cell rings. It's the concierge, telling me Sebastian and his car are downstairs. "Be right there." My voice is mechanical. This is a terrible idea. Maybe we could go out for a drink instead of dinner. That way, I could be home by ten.

"Okay, I'm out of here."

Victoria springs out of bed. She takes my chin between her thumb and first finger. "You're gorgeous. And you do not need to feel guilty about this. Griffin is gone. You need to live your life. If this man is nice and buys you dinner and you feel like doing...whatever it is you want to do...you're free. You don't owe anything to anyone. Okay?"

It's too difficult to look her in the eye for more than a few seconds, because I'll start crying.

I grab my purse, a simple black clutch. With a determined spring in my step, I summon all of my confidence, hoping it will get me through this night. My heart speeds up as the elevator soars down the thirty floors and I feel out of control, like I'm falling into a hole in the earth. I take a huge breath as I step out.

Sebastian's in the center of the lobby, wearing a blue blazer and a black shirt, with pants that effortlessly match both. I have to admit, he's a striking-looking person, with his bald head and piercing eyes.

"Juliette." He smiles and holds out his hand for me to shake.

As I take it, I exhale in relief. I assumed he'd try for a cheek kiss immediately. Or a hug. Maybe he's not a touchy-feely type. Fine with me.

"Hi Sebastian. You look nice tonight." I shoot him a small smile.

"As do you, my dear. The car's this way."

I'm equally relieved when he doesn't try to touch me on the way to the car, and when we're in the back of the black Lincoln Town Car, he doesn't slide close, try to hold hands or put his arm on the back of my seat.

My muscles begin to relax. Maybe he's really interested in helping me.

* * *

"The center cut filet mignon with the signature spice blend," I say to the waiter while handing him the menu.

I know exactly what to order because Griffin and I went to this restaurant many times. He adored the filet mignon. The last time we were here, I remember being shocked at the bill: three hundred forty-five dollars, for just the two of us.

That night, he'd treated me like a queen. Holding my hand, kissing the backs of my fingers. Growling dirty sweet things in my ear.

"Do you know how bad I want to fuck you, Juliette?"

The memory snippet makes me flash hot and I'm startled when the waiter addresses me again.

"Any side items, miss? Perhaps a salad?" asks the waiter, who's probably five years older than me. He doesn't blink when he sees Sebastian and I together; in any other part of the country, people would think he's my dad. Here, at the most expensive steakhouse in Miami, it's clear that I'm arm candy. And no one cares.

"Black truffle mac and cheese," I reply quickly.

"Decadent. I love it," Sebastian murmurs. "I'll have the dry-aged ribeye and the asparagus."

The waiter now gone, Sebastian and I smile awkwardly at each other. This only reminds me that I'll probably compare every man for the rest of my life with Griffin. A depressing thought.

Sebastian and I have almost zero in common. On the way here, we made small talk about downtown Miami's condo boom, the weather, whether I liked my classes. He'd let one detail drop on the ride over,and it's been lurking in my mind ever since we walked into the cream-and-gold dining room: he's forty-six.

Twenty-eight years older.

Definitely old enough to be my father.

I take a quick sweep of the room and squirm in my seat. This has never been my favorite restaurant on the beach, mostly because the seating is either large wooden dining chairs with arms and champagne-colored velvet seats, or large brown leather wing chairs that make people look and feel unnaturally small, like something out of Alice in Wonderland.

The whole place has a surreal feel about it, from the massive glass chandeliers in every room, to the stained glass portrait of a creepy little girl to the huge, gilt-framed mirrors attached to the brick wall.

We're seated near that brick wall, in a low-lit and secluded spot. It doesn't go without notice that Sebastian took the seat with his back to the room, and asked me to sit to his right — so everyone who walks in sees him, bald and imposing.

And me. They see me. An angry girl with long, loose hair, and hard green eyes. No one probably sees the anger, though. Surely they mistake it for intensity. I'm easily the youngest person here, and that's uncomfortable, too.

I clear my throat, wanting to erase this awkward pause. It's probably a good idea to steer this night toward the professional. "How many classes do you teach at the school? It must be a lot, with your clinics and everything."

"I'm only teaching one, an advanced course in clinic management. That's all I can handle this year, since I'm trying to expand my business into three other states. I'm afraid business has taken priority over medicine, as it often does."

"How do you feel about that?" I tilt my head and sip my wine. We've gotten a hundred and ten dollar bottle of Chianti from Italy. Rather, Sebastian did, saying that he preferred old world wines to American varietals. Hearing him say that jogged my memory of dinners past, when Griffin and I would eat with his "business contacts," older men from Europe who always toted young, nubile dates along. They'd order in their native tongue to impress the girls, who would giggle and fawn over them, and Griffin and I would subtly give each other knowing glances.

I remember thinking back then how grateful I was to be with Griffin and not one of the older men.

And now, here I am, right where I never wanted to be.

Sebastian pinches the stem of the wine glass with his thumb and forefinger. "It's a necessary evil for a doctor. I have certain goals I'd like to meet for my company, but truthfully, I do miss practicing. I liked the challenge of solving difficult cases, of talking to patients and figuring out how to relive their pain. Now I spend a lot of time with pharmaceutical reps, discussing which opioid is best for the majority of cases and how to meet certain sales targets so I can achieve monetary bonuses. Bonuses are always good."

"Opioids? Don't a lot of people have addiction problems with those?"

For some reason, I can't read his smile. Is it patient? Condescending? Cocky? "Some do. But I think the media's overblowing the problem. The reality is, patients in pain need whatever help they can get."

I nod. Seems reasonable.

"And how about you, Juliette? Tell me about yourself. How's your brother doing?"

My smile wilts. "He's waiting for a stem cell transplant. It's all kinds of complicated because his insurance isn't great. He's maxed out his insurance plan, which wasn't great to begin with, and my mother and I have pooled our resources together to help."

Which is why I'm sitting here with you, hoping you'll give me a job. I'm down to the last ten thousand that Griffin gave me. Which will last somewhere between three and four months if I don't shop too much, Victoria says. Good thing I haven't had much of an appetite or a desire to buy new clothes.

Sebastian shakes his head. "Sometimes our medical system doesn't accommodate the patients who truly need help. And insurance definitely doesn't."

I nod, grateful that he's acknowledged the injustice of it all. "So, my brother's depressed and mom's stressed and I hate to see them like this. My mom's an office manager at a law firm. I think she misses me and would like me to move back home." I cringe inwardly. Sebastian has only been kind. Could I be any more of a downer?

"I'm sure she does miss you. Were you born and raised there?"

"No. I'm a Kendall girl. My mom and brother moved last summer, when I graduated from high school. I stayed behind because..." my voice trailed off and my attention was suddenly focused on the sparkling crystal of the glass, remembering my happiness when Griffin first brought me to the condo...

"Juliette?" Sebastian said gently.

I snap to attention, focusing on his intense gaze. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of that summer. So much has happened to me between then and now." I take a glug of wine.

"Want to talk about it? You seem troubled. You don't have to if you don't want, though."

I shrug. "Basically, I fell in love with a guy and he was murdered. That's the too-long-didn't-read answer."

"Oh, my dear. I'm sorry. That's a lot to happen to someone so young. You must be devastated."

It does feel good to be acknowledged and validated. I nod enthusiastically. "And the worst part is, I'm mad at him for dying. I feel terrible about being so angry." Maybe the glass of wine was getting to me, but I suddenly want to talk to someone. Sebastian's eyes suddenly seem less piercing and kinder. And he is an intent listener, I'll give him that.

"That's not terrible at all. Anger is actually one of the many phases of grief."

"I'm sorry. You didn't bring me out to hear all about my cancer stricken brother, my poor mother and my dead boyfriend." A bitter laugh escapes my mouth. "I'm a great date, aren't I?" I go to sip my wine, and when I'm about to raise the glass, I realize what I just said.

A date.

I'm not sure how, but I'm once again that awkward Kendall teenager who has no idea how to speak to men. I have no good reason to be here tonight, and even less reason to call it a date. I wince and stare at my wine.

"I'm happy to listen to you talk about anything, Juliette. I'm hoping we can have a wonderful working relationship together."

A little beat of hope pulses in my chest. "Really?"

"Really. I'll tell you my proposal after we eat. I think you'll be interested."

* * *

The steak was delicious. The mac and cheese out of this world. And the cheesecake topped with mango?

"This is pure sin," he says. We're sharing the dessert because we're both stuffed but seemingly share a love of mango.

Or maybe I'm a little tipsy. He seems to be, too, having regaled me with stories about medical school. The waiter clears the dessert plate and brings over two snifters of brandy.

"Dr. Engel, this is courtesy of the owner."

"Please tell Shareef thank you."

I'm a little entranced by Sebastian's voice, probably because I've never heard a German accent before. It sounds a little harsh, but the tone of his voice is low and mesmerizing.

"I've never had brandy before." I pick up the glass and inhale as if it's wine.

Sebastian shrugs and grins. "It's an old person's drink. But try it."

He holds up his glass. "So before the toast, here's my proposal."

"Yes?" I grin. I know he's going to hire me at one of his clinics. He'd talked all about the various duties at each office, explained a lot about what goes on when a patient comes to his clinics. It's pretty interesting stuff, actually.

"I'd like you to be my companion."

____