Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
But when I saw who she was with, my entire body was on fire. No way was I going to let this angel sit with the devil and dine in my restaurant. He’d been here an hour already, sitting at the bar, hitting on the barmaid as he drank the most pompous scotch on our shelf.
When he left her sitting, I nearly came undone. What a fucking ass. But on the other hand, I was relieved; it meant I didn’t have to figure out a way to get him away from the table so I could move in.
The idea of her sitting there, eating some of the best food in America, with this piece of shit, made me furious. And when I realized where he’d been I wanted to kill him. But deep down? There was a part of me that thanked him for the opportunity to be her savior. His misstep is my opportunity, and I intend to exploit it for all it’s worth.
“Stay right here.” I bark, when I turn and see her wide green eyes hesitant and glancing toward the door where the good doctor made the wise decision to exit. But I have some other business to tend to before I can deal with more pleasant aspects of my upcoming evening.
I lift my hand, my maître d’, Pierre, nods my way and is by my side in ten seconds.
“Yes, sir?”
“Prepare my private dining room.” I whisper into his ear and he nods, looking at the cherub to my left, making me clench my jaw. “Now.”
“Yes, sir.” He nods, looking down as he moves away and I march over to the bar, where Clarice, the barmaid in question, is looking like a deer that knows it’s in the crosshairs. I’m not known for my bedside manner, and from the way the blood drains from her face and she tightens her lips, she’s pretty sure what’s about to happen.
“Get your shit and get out.” I don’t have time to hold her hand. “Fucking now!” I scream, not caring that the customers in the bar are staring or that there will be no other bartender for the night. I don’t tolerate bullshit, and in my restaurants I run the asylum—otherwise the asylum runs you.
She’s shaking as she mumbles some half-assed apology and scurries into the back hall, her head hanging.
I would usually make sure she found her way out into the back parking lot, but I don’t have time for that today. I have more important things on my mind.
When I move back to where the dark haired beauty is standing, there’s new fear in her eyes and I hate it. I never want to see her afraid again, especially of me.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. But it was necessary. I’m sure you understand why.”
“Sure, but...you didn’t have to do that. You don’t even know me, I don’t care—”
“I do care. No one treats you that way. No one. Not on my watch.”
She gives me a quizzical look, this sweet angel standing here with worn red heels as she fidgets with the strap of her purse, her eyes darting around as other patrons give her passing dismissive looks, and honestly? I want to kick them all out. I would, if I didn’t think such an action would make tomorrow’s headlines.
“Well.” She takes a deep breath, looking at the front door. “I can’t pay for the food we ordered, or the wine...”
“No?”
I’m a bastard for thinking the way I am, but if it gets me what I want, I’ll use every trick I can think of.
She shrugs, a defeated look on her angelic face. “I’m sorry. I have no cash, I don’t have a credit card. Maybe I could bring you the money next week, part of it at least. The wine was over two hundred dollars for the bottle, I’ll just make payments until...”
She stammers and I can’t take it any longer. The embarrassment in her face is something I never will tolerate again.
“Have dinner with me as my guest. That is how you can repay me. No other charge.”
Her eyes are wide. “No, I couldn’t...” She starts for the door. “I’m sorry, I swear I’ll pay you back, just give me some time...”
I dart my hand forward and grab her elbow, the simple touch setting off a concussion in my chest that reminds me what it must feel like to have a heart. “Wait.” I half bark, the domineering tone I’ve become accustomed to using with nearly everyone in my world. I force my voice to soften, at least a little, “You are here for dinner, correct? So have dinner. That’s my final offer, otherwise I’ll have to call the cops.”
Her eyes go wide and she looks around as if to be sure I’m not talking to someone else. Then she licks her lips and raises one cute as fuck eyebrow.