Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
The entrance to Romeo’s restaurant was hidden down a side-street, behind an unmarked door, in between a high-end jeweler and a hideously expensive bespoke suit tailor. Cecil maneuvered the gold Lamborghini down a small street, engine purring like a kitten.
“I told you it was a good idea to take the Lambo. Imagine trying to do a three-point turn in a limo!”
“Fair point,” I said, resisting the urge to twist the shimmering fabric of my dress between my fingers. “God, why am I so nervous?”
“Because it’s the first date you’ve had in over twenty years?”
“Huh.” I scowled out the window for a second. Up ahead, another flashy sports car had stopped in the middle of the street. Two gorgeous figures got out. A white-jacketed attendant appeared out of nowhere, opened the unmarked door for them, got in the car, and drove away. “I suppose you’re right.”
Also, I’m nervous because I’m not a hundred-percent sure that any of this is actually real.
I shushed the dark voice in my head before it took over my inner monologue completely. “It’s strange. I didn’t date much before Vincent. I told myself I was too focused on my career, but the truth is I got asked out all the time. But most men I was attracted to ended up ghosting me really quickly.”
“I wonder why that was?”
“Well, I asked one straight-out what his problem was, and he told me he’d never go for any woman that earned more than he did.”
“I was being sarcastic, Chosen. You’re a corporate baddie. Men would have been horribly intimidated by you.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “It’s so stupid. As if the fact that I made more money than he did somehow emasculated him.”
“Men are fragile creatures,” Cecil declared, inching the Lamborghini further down the street.
We pulled up outside the unmarked door. “Any final words of wisdom?”
“Don’t give it up on the first date. Keep your legs closed. Make him beg for it.” He shrugged. “Maybe a blow job, if he’s a good boy.”
“Cecil. I meant any wisdom on the magical stuff.”
“Blow jobs are magical.”
“Cecil!” My cheeks warmed.
He clapped his hooves together. “There. You’re perfect. A blushing bride.”
I patted his shoulder. “Thanks, my friend.”
“Listen… Chosen?”
I turned back to him. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “If anything goes wrong… I mean anything… you know you can order me to appear before you, right?”
I squinted at him. “What?”
“I’m your servant. If you order me to appear in front of you, I have to appear. Like a genie. But… y’know. Way more attractive.”
I eyeballed him steadily. “I’m not going to order you to do anything, Cecil.”
“But you can.”
“You don’t want me to.”
“Well… no. I don’t.”
I knew it. I saw it in the way his lips tightened. “There’s consequences if I order you to do something, isn’t there?”
“Every action has consequences,” he said, turning away from me.
“But yes. If you order me to do something, I have to obey, and the bonds between us as servant and master will strengthen. I’ll lose a little of my autonomy.
Most spoils of war lose it quickly, because their masters aren’t reticent in ordering them around as soon as they come into their service.
Most of them quickly end up like mindless drones.
But you, my dear,” he said, inclining his head, “you have been very different, and the magic chains haven’t been strengthened at all. ”
“What, so if I start ordering you around, you won’t be you anymore? You’ll become a mindless drone?”
He shrugged. “I’ll still be me. But I’ll be less fabulous. I won’t be able to argue with you. And that’s a bad thing, because I give incredible advice.”
I exhaled heavily. “Well, we can’t have that. Cecil, I’m not ordering you to do anything.”
He looked away. “But if you need me… you have to order me to appear before you.”
I put my hands on his cheeks and wrestled his little pony face around so he was looking at me directly. “I won’t,” I said firmly. “Please go home. Have a drink, smoke a joint, play Jenga with Violet or something.”
“She vibrates the floorboards whenever it’s my turn,” he grumbled, hitting the door release. “Go on with your bad self, Chosen. Have a wonderful evening. I’ll be back in three hours to pick you up.”
I picked up my dress and carefully stepped out of the Lamborghini. A white-jacketed attendant emerged out of the unmarked door and inclined his head. “Good evening, madam. Are you dining with us this evening?”
“Yes.” I felt a little breathless. “I’m Susan Moore.”
“Ah, of course. You are here for the prince.”
Butterflies in my belly started to flutter around, a gorgeous feeling of anticipation. “Yes.” I lifted my chin, holding on to my confidence with an iron grip. “Yes, I’m here for the prince.” This was going to be fine. Everything was going to be okay.
“This way, madam.” He led me inside, down a long flight of steps, and into the dark cozy underground lair.
Romeo’s was sumptuously furnished in dark red paneling and gold fittings and had a vaulted ceiling with huge, exposed beams. The air was warm and smelled like exotic spices.
It felt a little like venturing into Aladdin’s cave of wonders.
I spotted two minor celebrities and one senator as we descended the steps and weaved our way through the tables.
The whole restaurant was packed with people—women with perfectly blow-dried hair and skin stretched tight across their cheekbones and men with real Rolexes, fake smiles, and shining bald heads.
The attendant gestured to me to follow him. “Prince Donovan has a private booth, just beyond the bar, Ms. Moore.”
“Thank you.” A tingle of pleasure rushed through me, and I savored it. I’d forgotten how much I loved Romeo’s. The food was exquisite.
My shoulder blades prickled suddenly, chasing away my warm, cozy feeling. Someone was watching me. I turned my head slightly as we wove our way through and saw Jessica Morningside sitting at a table in the middle of the restaurant.
My heart skipped a beat. Maybe I could backtrack, stop by her table, engage her for just a second, and ask her how Audrina was doing. I was desperate to find out.
Jessica wasn’t alone, though. There was a man sitting with her, but it wasn’t her husband. Another quick glance back confirmed that it was Dan Raine, local meteorologist and best friend to Juliette Forbes. That snake must be here somewhere, too, but she wasn’t at the table with Jessica.
Neither of them were looking at me, though, so it wasn’t their eyes I felt stabbing into my shoulder blades.
Both of them had their attention firmly focused on something at the far end of the restaurant, in fact, Jessica was even hovering out of her chair in an attempt to see over the other diners.
Dan, too, was facing away from me, staring in the same direction.
Something was apparently fascinating over there.
For once, I was just glad they weren’t focused on me.
The subtle stabby feeling between my shoulders didn’t dissipate. So, who was glaring daggers at me? I turned my head to the right slightly, my instincts telling me that the evil eye was coming from behind me.
Aha. Delilah and Gordon Andresano were here, too, in a tiny two-seat booth underneath the stairs.
I stifled a groan. All my enemies in one handy location. Thank goodness, there was no sign of Seraphina or Vincent, or I might just turn around and walk out of here.
The attendant kept walking, heading to the far side of the restaurant and the darkest corner beyond the bar. My heart sank straight to my toes as I realized what had stolen Jessica Morningside and Dan Raine’s attention.
I knew what they were watching.
Donovan, of course. He sat in the furthest booth in the darkest corner of the restaurant behind the bar, right in the VIP section, slightly elevated on a platform, above everyone else.
As always, his staggering beauty took my breath away.
He sat rigid, spine straight, wide shoulders tight with tension, glaring straight ahead, like the Lord of the Underworld surveying his domain—his raven-black hair swept off his face, his lush lips hardened into a thin line, the square jaw tight, and somehow more masculine than ever.
His dark emerald eyes glowed almost preternaturally in the gloom.
My heart skipped a beat, then skipped several more as my vision expanded, taking in the rest of the scene.
There was a woman with him. She was sprawled right next to him in the booth in a stunning blood-red strapless dress, showing acres of shimmering sexy decolletage.
Her face in profile was exquisite—high cheekbones, head tilted towards him, ruby lips lush.
She gracefully reclined against the seat in the booth at an angle so her body curved towards him, her head tilted slightly up so she could bat her long lashes.
Her long glossy brown hair streamed like silk over her shoulders.
With a jolt, I realized I recognized her. It was Cynthia Grace, a local newscaster and winner of San Francisco’s sexiest presenter three years running.
Dan Raine’s colleague. Juliette’s husband’s favorite employee.
Fire rumbled in my belly. That’s what they were watching. They’d sent Cynthia over to Donovan’s table to seduce him.
And Cynthia was giving it her best shot, too, working everything she had—purring like a kitten, trying to edge her way in front of him so she could maintain eye contact, fluttering her lashes, while provocatively stroking her bare decolletage.
The edges of my vision went fuzzy, and a phantom voice cackled in my head. See? Why would he want you when he can have someone like her?
Darkness hemmed in on all sides, pressing down on me.
No. Not now. This wasn’t a nightmare. I couldn’t succumb to the darkness in my head, not now. Not now!
Old, barren, dried up, used goods…
“Your table, madam,” the attendant said, sweeping a hand upwards towards Donovan.
Donovan’s gaze snapped towards me, and his eyes widened. Those beautiful lips softened, the tension easing out of his jaw.