It should never be said that a young lady of good breeding doesn't know how to take the initiative when she feels it is necessary. A prime example of this was the note which arrived at Oliver Granger's loft apartment on the stroke of 8 a.m, delivered by hand. My dear Mr Granger, I really do think it is time we went on a proper date. Do you agree" If you do, there'll be a car outside at seven o'clock tonight. How does dinner sound" Piper. P.S. I won't insult you by suggesting how to dress, either! At seven o'clock on the dot, just as she had written would happen, a sleek car pulled up on the road outside Ollie's apartment block. The driver, a man who looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh at the world, came around to open the back door, assisting his passenger from her seat.

Piper had agonised over what she should wear, wanting to look nice for her fiance, finally settling on a cocktail dress of the same mouth-watering red as the gown she had worn at the masquerade, her shoulders bare but for cobweb thin straps, and the hem short enough to draw the eye to her bare legs. She bit her lip, smiling as she knocked at the door, hoping she passed muster for the occasion.

Ollie had been out running when the letter had arrived that morning and he'd spent the rest of the day nervously awaiting the stroke of seven. He hoped he'd read her correctly when she said there was something to be said for a man in jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a sports jacket, because that is what he finally decided upon. It should be noted that the jeans and the shirt were the only ones of their kind that were not splattered with paint and the sports jacket had leather patches on the elbows. It had been a gift from Uncle Bert or someone with a fondness for tweed.

When the knock at the door came, Ollie sneaked another look into the mirror (one of scores of such) and wished for the thousandth time that day that he'd gotten a hair cut. Then he pulled open the door and all thoughts dropped out of his head. She was wearing red. Short. Strapless. Red. Devil in a blue dress" No. No, no. The writer of that song had clearly never seen Piper in red.

Hoping like hell her nerves weren't showing too badly, she cast an appreciative gaze up and down, her expression leaving no doubt that she definitely liked what she saw. Ollie never looked anything less than gorgeous to her eyes, and with that look on his face" Utterly irresistable. She shrugged lightly, twirling in front of him with a flirtatiously girlish laugh, unashamedly fishing for the compliment in his eyes to be put into words. "I hope you're not disappointed."

"Dis...disappointed?" he managed to squeak out after closing his mouth before he started to drool. "No. Nothing like. But um...are you sure you'll be warm enough?" He glanced out the window at the sky, wondering if rain was in the forecast for tonight.

"I have a shawl in the car, if I need it," she assured him with a gentle laugh, stepping forward to brush her lips to his cheek. "Hello, by the way. You look very handsome." It was the second time she had called him such to his face, and if anything, she meant it more this time. Her hand slid down his arm to twine her fingers with his. "Are you ready?"

He gave her a soft smile, what he was beginning to think of as his Piper smile, and took her hand, tucking it through his arm and leaning over to kiss the crown of her head. "I am." He stepped out into the hall, locked the door behind him - Kay had better have her keys - and then escorted his lady down to the waiting car.

The driver was still there by the door, swiftly bending to draw it open for them both to enter. Piper slid across the smooth leather seats to make room for Ollie, rather sternly telling her heartbeat to calm down. Nothing had gone wrong so far, there was no reason to be scared that anything would. He was coming, wasn't he" She lifted another smile to Ollie as the driver closed them in and resumed his seat behind the wheel, awaiting directions. "Ristorante Galante, please. Is that alright?" This last was spoken to Ollie nervously.

"Wow," he said softly. "Yes, that's just fine." He swallowed and tugged at his collar nervously. "How are you feeling?"

The 'wow' almost gave her pause as the car drew away from the riverside, wondering if perhaps she had reserved a table somewhere that was considered too expensive. Not that it mattered, of course; she wasn't going to be allowing Ollie to pay, so it was her own money to spend. She leaned back against the cushioned seats, her shoulder brushing his as she fingered a waywardly curling lock of her loose sable hair.

"I'm very well, thank you," she smiled in answer to him, gently taking his hand away from that nervous gesture at his collar to curl her fingers against his palm. "Relax, Ollie. This isn't an exam, or a performance. It's just me."

His eyes grew wide and he, too, burst out into laughter. "God, woman. I hope it's just the hormones talking. Otherwise, I do believe you'll have me walking funny." He winked at her, brushed a kiss across her forehead and then escorted her inside the restaurant, aware of the envious looks they were getting...well, to be fair, the envious looks he was getting because of the beautiful woman on his arm.

"I, I meant ..." She giggled again, hiding her face behind her hand for a moment as she shook her head. "I suppose telling you how sexy you are would be a step down after that, wouldn't it?" She was kept from continuing by the approach of the maitre'd, an impressively turned out elderly gentleman who bowed his head to them both in greeting, forewarned who he would be addressing thanks to Piper's visit the day before. "Your table is ready, Mr Granger. If you would step this way?" He led the way between round tables lit with candles, populated with people of all races and walks of life, in groups, couples, or alone. The seating was laid out around a small open space, at one side of which a small band was playing gentle music to compliment the dining experience. Waiters and waitresses in beautifully pressed uniforms moved between the tables with graceful efficiency, serving their customers with polite good humour. The table to which Ollie and Piper were led was set in a small niche beneath an archway draped with pale gauze, offering the illusion of privacy if required. Set beautifully, the candlelight glimmered from polished glass and steel as the old man bowed once more. "Your table, sir."

"Thank you," Ollie said distractedly and moved to pull out Piper's seat for her while he took a quick and very surreptitious look around the place. Yes, his family had money and power and position in the city, but he had never taken advantage of it, never explored the other side of life that could be bought with dropping his name in the right ear. The only sort of luxury he'd ever indulged in was the theatre, opera and ballet.

Piper was unlikely to admit it, but this was the sort of place she was only too used to frequenting, especially when with her parents, exuding a comfort in their polished surroundings that could only come with exposure. Settled in her seat, she lifted her hand to squeeze Ollie's gently once more, smiling again as the wine list and menus were brought to them, napkins smartly removed from the side plates on the table and laid with reverent care over their laps.

"Thank you," she repeated Ollie's thanks, offering the wine list to her fiance with a flicker of her eyes. If you need me to order here, please don't worry about admitting to it.

He arched a brow and a tiny smirk lurked at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't too proud to ask for help when he was feeling out of his depth, but he did have one of the fragile male egos that needed an extra bit of coddling. "So, this is your idea; I'll let you have your way tonight, if you'll let me take you out and show you my world."

Her smile was bright, proud of him for asking without revealing his discomfort to the lingering waiters. "I thought you would never ask," she teased fondly across the table, letting her gaze flicker over the menu before her. "Do you prefer white or red wine?"

"Red, I think. Though it depends upon what we're ordering, doesn't it' A shiraz would be good if you're going to let me have a steak." He gave her a little teasing smile. He wasn't entirely a rube; he did have a little bit of knowledge after all.

She chuckled softly, tilting her head in amusement as she looked to the waiter close by. "As the gentleman said, a bottle of your Shiraz, please," she asked, buying a little time to survey what was available on the menu while the wine was fetched. "Any allergies I should know about?" she asked Ollie with another of those tiny smiles.

"Ragweed." Ollie chuckled and then shook his head. "No, no allergies."

"Well, that's good. I won't have to worry about slamming an epi pen anywhere tender if you chew something you shouldn't." Relieved not to have to worry about the content of sauces, Piper watched as the waiter returned, pouring iced water from a jug for them both, before offering a little of the wine for Ollie to taste and filling both glasses before them.

"Championes renellos to start," she ordered for them both. "And the filet mignon. Well done for me, please." She flickered an inviting smile across the table.

"Rare, please, for me." He sniffed the wine, tasted it, and smiled. Then he took a deep breath and leaned forward, making no attempts to hid the fact that he was admiring her.

With a crisp nod, the waiter stepped away, leaving them to one another's company. Beneath Ollie's open gaze, Piper's cheeks found a new flush of peach as she smiled, tasting her wine with a slow sip. "So ..." she began, and immediately forgot what she had been about to say.

"Oh-ho. Miss Davidson, I do believe you have issued a challenge. I am duty-bound to accept such a thing, you know." Ollie smirked at her, then glanced at her wine glass. "That'll be the last one, right?" he asked softly, not wanting to smother her.

She smiled gently at his quiet concern. "The only one, yes," she assured him, laying her knife and fork neatly on her plate. Her napkin was lifted to wipe her lips clean before she spoke again. "Challenge away, I'll do anything once. Some things, more than once."

He nodded at her acquiescence and then let the subject drop entirely. He toyed with his fork for a moment, glanced out across the room, searching for something to talk about. They could tease each other all night, but it didn't help him get to know his soon-to-be-bride any better, and really...that was what he wanted most.

Piper, too, was searching her mind for something to say, some way to open a conversation that would tell each of them more about the other. "I received a letter from my university this morning," she offered quietly. "I've failed my degree, for not turning up to the final exams." This wasn't distressing to her; if anything, she found it funny. "Frankly, with everything that's happened, I'd forgotten I was still on the roll."

His brows rose at this news. "Oh," he said. "Can you....I wonder if you can transfer credits to the University here" Lola went there, Correy's currently enrolled, though whether or not he actually attends classes is anyone's guess. I think Jon's sister, Helena, went there, too."

"Did you go there?" she asked curiously. "You mentioned something about a degree, but I don't think we went into it. And would you really see me enroll alongside your cousin?" Her smile was bright with laughter at the thought of attending university with Correy; imagine the gossip.

He snorted at that thought and then shook his head. "No, I was educated in America, believe it or not. Junior thought I should have an impressive degree from an impressive institution and not settle for Rhy'Din University, so he sent me to Yale and Columbia." He shrugged. "Not that my degree is doing anything other than collecting dust at this time. Still, it's there."

"Oh, so you've travelled, then" Did you go anywhere outside your uni, or were you a good studious boy who never did anything that might even remotely be called naughty?" Yes, she was still teasing, but it was a searching question, offering him two avenues to follow, if he chose.

"There was no travelling. There was only studying, more studying, and trying not to murder my flatmates when they had parties that lasted from dusk 'til dawn. I'm afraid that I'm really a rather boring person. No interesting stories about beer pong or escapades in the nude whilst streaking through a packed sports stadium." He smirked. "What about you? Were you good?"

She paused as their plates were taken away, leaning forward with a grin that was torn between laughter and embarrassment. Her fingers rubbed at her forehead for a moment as she giggled softly. "Well, uh ....not for the first year," she admitted with a snort of laughter. "I was so pleased to be at uni finally, and I was in my first serious relationship, so I went a little bit wild. There's a story involving streaking during the annual boat race between Cambridge and Oxford."

He laughed. "Did anyone get photographic evidence of this? I should like to see that."

"Oh God," Piper groaned laughingly, closing her eyes against the memory. "Sad to say, there is a photo knocking around somewhere of me in all my drunken glory canonballing into the water in front of the opposition's boat."

"Oh, brilliant! That needs to be framed and hung in the living room." He chuckled with delight at that thought. Then he offered her a little balm for her wounded ego. "Somewhere is a photograph of Jon and I after a fight with Lola and Helena's cosmetics. I look like someone spread red paint over the bottom half of my face and Jon looks as though he got punched in both eyes."

Despite her embarrassment, she did laugh with him as he offered that counter to her wild day caught on camera. "Now that I would like to see," she chuckled, once more leaning back as their main meals arrived. "Thank you." Taking up her knife and fork, she cast one of those tiny, just-for-him smiles over to him. "You're very good company, Ollie. I can't remember having this much fun over a meal."

He tried on his most terrifying look. Then chuckled. "Like that?" He finished with his food and carefully folded his napkin up and laid it alongside his plate. "I have the feeling that I will be a terribly doting father who will simply not accept any of my girl's potential suitors. And of course, she'll pick one just like me and that will drive me even more crazy that I'll already be."

"Oh, goodness, you made me feel like prey about to be devoured then," she laughed at his example of scowling fatherhood. "You'll be a wonderful father, Ollie. And if our girls fall for men like you, then we can be very sure that they will be very happy."

He blushed deeply at her compliment and lowered his eyes to the table in front of him. "Thank you," he said softly. "I...I'm glad you have confidence in me, Piper. Lord knows I need it." The admission was very softly and relucantly said and he didn't look up to meet her eyes.

Her own appetite sated, she leaned forward, her hand reaching across the table to curl her fingers about his. "I know what I see," she told him, her voice just as soft as his, offering no judgement at his low opinion of himself. "I see the best man I have ever known, who needs me as much as I need him. I'm not going anywhere, Ollie. I made my choice before I knew you, and now I'm beginning to know more, I know I won't change my mind. I'm very lucky to have met you."

The blush deepened, if that were possible, and finally, he did raise his eyes to meet hers. "Thank you, Piper," he said sincerely and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter in his chair. "Is there anything you'd know about me" Anything you're curious about?"

"The simple answer to that is 'everything', and it's the truth," she smiled fondly. "I'm curious about everything that makes you who you are. But ..." She hesitated, attempting to form her question into a form that would not upset him too much. "I am curious about your father. Your relationship with him seems so angry, so disappointed."

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He knew that the subject would come up sooner or later...he'd honestly hoped it would be later, rather than sooner. "Junior is a...well, he's not a very nice man. He's hard to love, hard to be around for any extended period of time, really. He..." He reached out to toy with his empty wine glass before refilling it and taking a sip. "He began having affairs shortly after he and my mother were married. A string of them, one right after the other. He drained our accounts and then began embezzling money from the Guild to buy these women jewels and houses and race horses."

It was hard to hear; not so much the words themselves as the pain beneath his voice, the frustration and anger that was there, hidden deep. She couldn't imagine how Ollie had found all this out, and was not about to ask. "I see," she said softly. "You don't have to tell me, Ollie. Not if it upsets you."

He shook his head. "You need to know, Piper. You need to know about the sort of family you're marrying into."

He took another drink of his wine and then related the rest of the story in a monotone - how his mother had gotten sick and eventually died, and then the physical abuse began, never directed at Lola, only at Ollie, who willingly took beatings for her and eventually turned to boxing in order to defend her. How Junior demanded he stop painting and go to college to earn his doctorate in international finance so that he could take over the Guild once Junior was dead. How by accident Ollie had learned of his father's 30 years of thievery, how Junior disinherited him and cut back Lola's stipend as well. How he'd finally broken the chains Junior had encircled around his life.

"Oh, Ollie. I'm so sorry." Piper couldn't believe anyone could be so cold, so cruel to his own family as Oliver's father had been. From her standpoint, a father was a warm presence in a child's life, someone who was always there if you needed him. She was horrified to learn that Ollie had no experience of that. Rising from her seat, she moved impulsively to his side, drawing his head to her gently swollen belly as she embraced him protectively, brushing her lips against his hair.

He clung to her for a moment, finding solace and comfort in her nearness and her touch. Then he released her and looked up with a slightly wicked smile. "He got his, though. When Caroline became CEO, she sacked him without warning and if she's smart, she'll persue criminal charges against him as well."

"Benedict Oliver?" He shook his head. "That reminds me too much of American history. He'd be a traitor or something."

Piper giggled softly at that, discreetly catching the waiter's eye to have the bill brought over to them at his earliest convenience. "Well, obviously Benedict wouldn't be a choice for our first son," she laughed, the sound rich with contentment and just the faintest hint of rising nerves. "I trust you to name the first boy competently."

"Me?" He nearly choked on the last sip of his cognac. "Alone" By myself?" He boggled at her, mouth agape in shock. "That's...I don't...Wow," he finished lamely. "You have to help, Piper. He - or she - will be your child, too." He swallowed and frowned softly. "Maybe more yours than mine," he said in a quiet voice.

Her expression grew just a little tight at that - only barely but he, of all people, would notice it. She was hurt by the quiet addendum, but not so much that she would call attention to it by responding in anger. "I wasn't talking about this child," was all she said, blue eyes deep and sincere as she locked her gaze to his, willing him to believe her and accept the implication of her words.

"Piper," he said and reached across the table to take her hand. "I'm sorry." He didn't offer any further explanation or apology; he didn't really know what to say. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled contritely before sitting back and fiddling with his now-empty brandy snifter. "So," he said, hating the way his voice caught. He swallowed and tried again. "So, you'll want to have more children, then?"

Her fingers curled trustingly into his, the apology wiping away that faint trace of pain from her face without needing to be said. "I would like to, yes," she nodded in answer, biting the fullness of her lower lip for a moment as she studied him, her released hand tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "But if you don't, then I wouldn't force the issue."

"I want one of each. Like Lola and I. We always got on well and I'd like for my children —" he emphasised my, "to have the same sort of relationship with their siblings."

Her lips curved in a smile that was just a little like the sun coming up as he spoke. "So would I," she agreed. "I was close to my sister for a long time, before she got married. I miss having that one person who knows me inside out around when I need her."

He nodded readily, a tiny frown marring his features. He had been closer to Lola than to anyone else for such a long time and to have learned recently that she had frequently been keeping secrets from him was like a blow to the gut.

Now it was Piper's turn to reach across and touch his hand. She didn't know quite why, but any form of touch was comforting to her, and she hoped it was to Ollie as well. "Everything will work out as it should," she said very softly, reluctant to release him as the waiter brought over the bill. Her fingers left Ollie's as she turned her attention to paying.

"I'm sure it will," he said distractedly as he watched the waiter. He made to snatch the bill away from her before reminding himself that he'd agreed to allow her to pay tonight. It still didn't sit well with him; ladies did not pay for their own dates.

She caught the twitch of his hand, her smile turning teasing as she glanced up at him, carefully writing out a cheque under the waiter's discreet eye. "My treat," she reminded Ollie with a slow wink, handing both bill and cheque to the waiter.

He glowered at her, pouting like a child, and muttered, "I know, I know." He forced himself to sit back in his chair once more and sighed deeply. "But from here on out, it's my treat, Ms Davidson. Do you hear?" he asked with mock anger.

"Oh, I hear," she assured him with a playful chuckle. "You may yet have a fight on your hands, Mr Granger. I have all manner of sneaky tricks to fork out my own money over someone else's."

"Just remember that I'm bigger than you, and I'm not opposed to turning you over my knee." He smirked at her, a cheeky twinkle in those hawkish eyes. Once the waiter left, Ollie stood and reached out to help her up from her chair. "This was very nice, Piper," he said softly. "Thank you."

Any other person would have earned themselves at best an indignant answer to this comment on her 'ridiculous' solution to her problem. But from Ollie, Piper found it funny, her laughter coming easily as she leaned close against him, letting her arms slide about his narrow waist as her lips nuzzled to his Adam's apple with absent-minded affection.

"If it was so very ridiculous, why did a fine, upstanding gentleman like yourself answer it?" she asked him in a gently teasing tone.

He chuckled and squeezed her hard, briefly, and then released her, sitting back just enough that he could look at her without going cross-eyed. "I had to save you from all the unsavoury sorts, didn't I?" It was half jest, but there was a deeper, truer meaning underlying the teasing words and tone.

Her smile showed enough understanding of his answer; there was too much of the knight in shining armour in Ollie to let him ignore a cry for help, and she understood that all too well. "Still, you were very brave," she went on, touching her lips to the hollow of his cheek fondly before leaning back. "I could have been an absolute horror. You have no idea some of the gorgons inbreeding in the aristocracy has produced."

He chuckled. "My best friend is marrying our cousin. I think I know inbreeding when I see it." He sat back against the seat of the car, resting his arm about her shoulders so he could pull her closer. "God," he said with sudden realisation. "You must have thought me a cold fish!"

She'd wondered how long it would take him to realise where her mind had been wandering during the last few weeks. Nestled close against his side, with one hand resting almost possessively on his denim-clad thigh, she smiled to herself as he reached a conclusion that was almost right. "Not so much cold," she assured him quietly. "I thought maybe you couldn't stomach the thought of touching me while I'm pregnant. But I could never think you cold, Ollie."

"Stomach it' No," he said firmly and reached down to cup her chin and tilt her head up so she could see the earnestness in his eyes. "I....I was worried about your health," he explained, meaning both Piper's and the baby's. "I've never known any pregnant women. None of my cousins are married, none have had children, so I don't know what to expect or ...anything, really."

"Well ....I don't really know what to expect myself," she confessed with a shy smile. "I could tell you what Alannah told me, but it's a little too technical and squicky. But I will, if you want me to." Such a romantic offer; how could he refuse" Oh God, please say no.

He shook his head and kissed her temple. "Not tonight, dove. Perhaps in the morning, though, okay?" He tacked on the last statement lest she think he wasn't interested at all.

Her skin flushed peach with renewed excitement at this little reference to where their evening seemed now to be going, desire darkening the blue of her eyes once again as she gazed up at him. "I do believe you just invited me to stay for breakfast, Mr Granger."

"I make amazing pancakes," he said and kissed her again, unable to stop kissing her or stroking his fingers through the luxurious silken softness of her hair. "I have real maple syrup, too," he murmured against her lips. "And a French press for coffee."

A very soft sound of pleasure left her throat, a quiet moan that hinted at what other sounds she could make when encouraged the right way. "Oh, monsieur," she teased, her own lips barely leaving his to speak as her hand slid up once more, smoothing a path beneath the lapel of his jacket, over the collar of his shirt, to curl her palm warm at his neck. "With your coffee and pancakes, you are spoiling me."

"And warm apple compote" Sausages" Freshly-squeezed orange juice?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled her neck just below her earlobe.

"Now you're just teasing," she laughed back, the sound low and husky against his ear as her lips brushed the sculpted ridge lightly. "No man is supposed to be this perfect." She barely noticed as the car drew to a halt, slowly caught up in the gradual rise of heat between them.