She Joins A Friend At A Golf Club Dinner, Unaware The Millionaire Beside Her Will Soon Fall
An Unexpected Encounter at Willow Pines
“I’m only here for the free food, Cambria,” Clara Bennett muttered under her breath. She adjusted the zipper on her dress in the mirror of her friend’s car.
“Don’t let me flirt. If I start flirting, slap me.”
Cambria laughed as she parked her Mercedes outside the Willow Pines Golf Club.
“It’s a dinner, not a dating app. Just enjoy the wine, nod politely, and pretend to care about golf.”
Clara sighed, pushing her curls behind her ears. She hated these kinds of events full of people who had country club memberships and last names that opened doors.
She was a freelance interior designer who lived in a one-bedroom apartment with a broken heater. The only reason she was here was because Cambria didn’t want to show up alone to her boss’s annual dinner. Cambria had promised her steak and wine in exchange.
The moment they walked in, Clara froze. The dining hall was stunning, with gold chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows, and tables draped in white linens. Waiters moved silently around with champagne trays.
Everyone was dressed like they’d stepped out of a magazine. At table seven, right next to hers, sat the most dangerously attractive man she’d ever seen. He had a sharp navy suit, a clean-cut jawline, and hair styled like he didn’t try but definitely did.
He was laughing at something an older man said, but his eyes were scanning the room like he was already bored. His watch alone probably cost more than Clara’s rent for the year.
Cambria leaned in.
“That’s Prescott Langston. He owns half the real estate in Oak Valley. He’s like crazy rich.”
Clara blinked.
“That man’s name is Prescott?”
“I know, it’s giving old money,” Cambria giggled.
“But apparently his company flipped the entire Eastwood district last year. He’s single, by the way.”
“Yeah, and I’m a princess,” Clara muttered as they were led to their seats.
Clara’s stomach dropped when the host pointed to the seat beside Prescott.
“Miss Bennett, you’ll be here.”
She slid into the chair awkwardly, trying not to make eye contact. The scent of his cologne hit her, something warm and expensive.
“Evening,” he said.
His voice was low and smooth.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”
Clara glanced at him.
“That’s because I don’t belong here. I’m just a friend of a friend.”
He smiled, not the fake kind, but the real kind.
“Then I’m lucky you sat next to me.”
Clara coughed.
“I don’t do golf or dinners where the napkins are folded like swans.”
Prescott chuckled.
“Neither do I. I just fund the events and pretend to care.”
She looked at him, surprised.
“You’re not into golf?”
“I’m into deals. Golf just happens to be where people sign them.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“So you’re one of those men who talks mergers over cocktails?”
Prescott leaned in slightly.
“Only if the cocktail is old-fashioned and the merger is worth seven figures.”
She tried not to laugh. He was arrogant, sure, but not in an annoying way. More like he knew who he was and didn’t need to prove it.
They spent the next hour talking. It wasn’t small talk, but real talk about why she left her job at a firm to start her own design business. They spoke about how he hated being seen as just another rich guy.
They shared their favorite movies, worst dates, and most embarrassing childhood moments. At some point, dessert was served. Clara hadn’t even noticed the time pass.
“I haven’t laughed like this in months,” Prescott said, looking at her like she was something rare.
Clara felt her cheeks warm.
“You probably say that to all the girls you meet at golf club dinners.”
He leaned closer, his voice quieter.
“I’ve never said it before.”
She swallowed. Her chest felt tight, but not in a bad way, in a something’s happening and I don’t know what kind of way.
When the dinner ended, people started standing and saying their goodbyes. Cambria waved from across the room, giving her a thumbs up before turning back to her group. Prescott stood and reached for Clara’s coat before she could.
“I’m walking you to your car.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Outside the breeze was cool. Clara held her coat closed as they walked down the stone path toward the parking area.
“I know this sounds forward,” Prescott said as they reached her car.
“But I don’t want a night to be the only time I see you.”
Clara smiled nervously.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you made me forget how much I hate these dinners. That counts for something.”
She looked up at him.
“You’re serious?”
“I don’t joke about things that matter.”
She hesitated.
“I don’t do rich guy flings, just so you know.”
Prescott’s jaw tightened, but not with anger. It was with something else, respect maybe.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not a fling,” he said softly.
She opened her car door but paused.
“Okay then, prove it.”
He smiled, and this time it held something different, something dangerous, something real.
“I will.”
As she drove away, Clara’s heart was racing. She hadn’t planned on meeting anyone, definitely not someone like Prescott Langston. But something told her this was only the beginning.
