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Romeo endured Brett Junior’s bro-hug, steering him away with a finger to his forehead.
“Check that your wallet is still in your back pocket,” I hissed to Rom, shooing away a busser when he tried to collect the knife speared in front of Junior’s plate.
Let it serve as a warning for the—hopefully brief—remainder of the night.
“Everything looks so good.” Dallas clapped, bouncing on her feet as much as she could with that thing cooking in her stomach. “Other than the company, I hear.”
She was a lovely creature, Dallas Costa. With lush chestnut curls tumbling past her shoulders. Emerald doe eyes, wide smile, and a figure most men would go to World War III for.
And yet, shestirred nothing in me.
Too loud, happy, and simple for my taste.
“White truffles.” She plucked a cavatappi noodle from a shared plate with her bare hand, catapulting it past her lips. “You got this for me, didn’t you?”
“All yours, now.” I gestured for a server to fetch me another steak knife, though my appetite had already shriveled into nothing.
Dallas slapped her Birkin to Romeo’s chest and hauled the entire oblong plate off the table, rushing to dump it on her placemat.
Within the chaos, Senior and Jasper remained silent. Too starstruck by the man in front of them to worry about our meeting being interrupted.
I supposed my guests required an explanation.
With Farrow gone, I relaxed, snapping my napkin open over my lap. “Rom and Oliver consult me off the books.”
A lie, of course.
I wouldn’t take Oliver to a brothel without worrying about his conduct, let alone a business meeting. But Ollie and Rom kept me in check.
For the most part.
“Oliver von Bismarck, I assume?” Senior—who did not come from money and never ceased to be enthralled by anyone born into it—leaned forward on his elbows and ogled me. “The duke?”
“Prussian nobility.” Oliver swept into the room, clad in a pale gray three-piece suit, swiping a hand over his golden curls. Considering he did not have a job, I had no idea where he’d come from looking like this. “Quite a useless title, once you’ve gone through most willing women in the world, if I’m honest.” He stole Jasper’s untouched wine glass on his journey to his seat, placing a kiss on the crown of Dallas’ head along the way. “Looking fabulous, Mrs. Costa. How’s my goddaughter doing in there?”
“Coming along nicely,” Dallas replied, chewing on a Boudin Blanc sausage at the same time.
The girl had less class than a cum stain.
“You’re high if you think I’ll put my trust in you with any female, let alone my own daughter.” Romeo claimed the seat next to his wife, while Oliver slopped beside Junior on the other end of the table. “Zach’s the godfather.”
“Get your head out of the gutter.” Oliver feigned disgust, glowering at Rom. “I would never try anything with the daughter of my own best friend.”
Romeo raised a brow. “Really?”
“Yes, really. That would be bad manners, seeing as I fully intend onseducing his sister-in-law.” Ollie tipped his glass, snapping his fingers in a server’s direction. “Grey Goose martini. Three olives. Actually, make it two. I’m drinking for Daytona Beach, as well.”
“It’s Dallas.” She pried a grape off the centerpiece and popped it into her mouth before discovering the hard way that it was decorative. “And please don’t make me your enabler.”
I steered the conversation to familiar territory. Sex—and everything that came with it—was not my area of expertise.
My attention settled on Senior, the least infuriating of my three guests. “I trust you received my official proposal.”
“We did.” He sliced into the buttery wagyu, scooping a dash of potato espuma and shiso chimichurri. “While it’s an interesting offer and we’re flattered, we do believe you undervalued our company by a billion dollars.”
Actually, I’d undervalued it bytwobillion, but he wanted to meet me in the middle.
“I did no such thing, Mr. Conner.” I reclined against the upholstery, ignoring my food. I didn’t do fine dining. I ate to survive. “In fact, all I’ve done was deduct my liability fee, which is sure to come.”
