Chapter 3 #2
I narrowed my eyes and shifted my attention to the closed door, hoping he would take my continued silence for an answer. But in true Benoit form, he wasn’t going to let me get away with things that easily.
Instead, he sidled up close to my side—that scary-as-fuck new boyfriend of his obviously giving him the confidence to put his life in danger—and placed a hand on my tense arm.
“Alessio,” he said, batting his insanely long lashes, “come and have a drink with me.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea. A few shots of something hard and alcoholic might be exactly what I needed to forget my troubles. But it also might make my lips loose enough to get me in trouble.
I trusted my brothers with my life, but I was pretty sure Rafael would have an issue with my advertising the fact that I was in a sexually frustrated time loop because I wanted to see if his body looked as good as I remembered when he was naked in front of me.
Yeah, somehow I think that might piss him off.
“Alessio?”
“Fine, lead the way.”
Benoit grinned and pushed the button for level two, and when the elevator stopped and opened, he headed straight for the bar.
Good, at least he wasn’t going to try to feed me first.
“What’ll it be?” he asked as we scanned the shelves holding the most expensive bottles of liquor money could buy.
“I don’t care.”
Benoit rolled his eyes. “Then go get a booth and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Fine with me. The sooner we got this over with, the sooner I could leave.
God, please make Benoit have another place to be tonight.
No, you know what? Fuck you. I don’t need any favors from you.
I took a booth in the far back corner, out of the lights and away from people. That was exactly the mood I was in. I didn’t want to be seen or talked to. But unfortunately for me, the smiling Frenchman, carrying two shot glasses and a bottle of Gran Patron, was coming straight for me.
“Tequila?” I winced as Benoit slid into the booth opposite me.
“Expensive tequila,” he corrected me. “Plus, you don’t get to complain if you don’t want to make suggestions.”
He had a point, I supposed, and tequila would work much faster at making me forget what a pathetic loser I was to be getting hard for a man I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever have again.
He uncorked the bottle and poured four shots, then slid two over in front of me.
“Usually, I’d be much more sophisticated about this,” Benoit said as he took the shot glass between his fingers. “Insist you enjoy the aroma in an actual glass, by inhaling and then—”
I threw back the first shot before he could finish his spiel and slammed the glass back down on the table.
“Right, but tonight I’m thinking we go with shots.”
The second shot was down my throat before he’d lifted his first glass, and I didn’t miss the frown that creased his brow.
I slumped back in my seat, and when Benoit finished his drinks, he cocked his head and pursed his glossy lips.
“What’s happening here, mon cher?”
I shrugged, even as my leg started to bounce under the table. The last thing I needed was to have my brother’s eyes back on me. I’d just gotten them to back off after the whole hacker debacle, so I needed to play this just right.
“Nothing. I was just checking some equipment upstairs, that's all.”
Yep, just as I expected, that lie made me sound like a fucking idiot.
“Equipment?” Benoit waggled his brows. “Oo-la-la. What kind of equipment? Oh, wait, did someone finally get you to break your vow of celibacy?”
I fucking wish. The funny—and depressingly sad—thing about this whole conversation was that Benoit was joking. My brothers always did about my being celibate. They just thought I was super private. Bet Benoit would bring three more bottles of tequila over if he knew it was actually true.
That I was celibate.
“No. I was— Forget it,” I said, and this time I reached for the bottle and refilled our glasses.
Benoit picked up one and brought it to his lips, eyeing me over the rim. “This wouldn’t have something to do with a certain priest you had to confess to last night, would it?”
I wasn’t going to answer that. So the next best thing I could do was throw back another shot.
“I thought it was starting to help?” he continued.
Then another.
“Father Vitale is such a great listener. I always feel such a sense of peace after talking to him.”
Ah, fuck it. Just give me the whole damn bottle.
“Don’t you?”
The burn of the alcohol trailed a fiery path down my throat to my chest, where it seemed to burst into flames.
“I mean, you’ve known him for a while now, right?”
“For-fucking-ever, unfortunately.”
Benoit’s fingers stopped circling the rim of his glass. “Forever?”
Shit.
“Didn’t you start going to St. Andrews just a couple of months before you introduced all of us?”
Sure. At least, that was the story I’d told all of them. Be nice if I could remember that.
Fucking tequila.
“I knew him a bit before that,” I mumbled. No use trying to backtrack now.
“How long before?”
My head snapped up, and something in my eyes must’ve told Benoit he was wading through dangerous waters, because he picked his glass up and saluted me.
“Or we can just say a while.”
We both threw back a shot, and I nodded. “A long fucking while.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“No one does,” I said, then rushed out, “But it’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Of course not. Why would it be?”
Because I can’t stop imagining the way his mouth felt under mine…
“No reason. So yeah, we knew each other as kids. We were altar boys.”
Benoit snorted. “Désolé. I’m just trying to imagine that. You as an altar boy.”
“I’m Catholic.”
“I know, but…” Benoit bit down into his lower lip to hold back a laugh. “I’m just… Have you seen you? You don’t exactly look like an altar boy.”
“Yeah? And does Rafa—Father Vitale look like a priest?”
Benoit opened his mouth, but then it clicked shut. “Good point.”
Several more shots followed that admission, because yeah, now I was thinking about the fact that Rafael looked nothing like any holy man should.
He was statuesque, golden, perfect.
Sun-kissed by God himself.
I needed to dim that light in my mind, that shining beacon he was to all, and if that meant getting blind drunk and passing out for the night, then that was what I’d do.
“Benoit?”
“Oui, mon cher?”
“Order another bottle.”