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If he was going to break her heart, he could make her feel like a queen for now.
“Here we are,” Robin said.
Harper pulled up to the valet. He was quick enough on his feet he even made it around the car to help Robin out himself and was treated to the sight of her long legs.
She was nothing like what he’d expected her to be. Nothing at all. And that was more than a little dangerous.
“Thank you,” Robin muttered as he assisted her up the few stairs to the restaurant.
Whatever this place was, it was so upscale there wasn’t even a sign out front.
They stepped through the doors and into a gleaming waiting area. Men in suits manned a leather-covered booth. He was acutely aware of the slick marble floor in his new shoes. Red velvet benches sat by the wayside, but no one made use of them.
This did not appear to be the type of place that catered to people who did things like wait.
Robin led Harper forward, all the way to the leather booth.
“Suleiman for two,” she said with a sweet smile.
The two men attending the books glanced down with similarly wide-eyed stares.
Did Robin have a reputation?
Please say it wasn’t so.
“Is there a problem?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, no. One moment, please?” the older of the two men asked.
Harper glanced from the men to Robin. What was it about her that had the two sweating bullets?
“What seems to be the issue?” she asked again. Her tone was still light and pleasant, but there was an underlying edge there.
The two men looked at each other.
Harper could practically see them drawing lots to figure out who got to fall on the sword this time.
The younger one drew in a breath.
It was his time.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am. It appears there was some confusion. You see, there were two Suleiman parties booked tonight and—”
“Robin? Is that little Robin?” a man called out.
Robin turned from the attendant lightning-quick, while Harper was still processing it all. She gasped in delight. “Uncle Daar?”
Harper turned, not quite believing his ears. Had he just heard her right?
He turned, mindful that his lapel pin microphone was pointed straight at Robin and the man greeting her with a familiar hug.
There weren’t many pictures of Daar Suleiman. Harper really had thought the man would be taller. Daar was probably five-eight or nine without the shoes giving him some added height. He had a wiry build like a man still used to exercise. His hair was mostly silver with shots of black running through it and the patch of hair on his chin. The man’s complexion was weathered and lined, as if from the elements. There were no smile or laugh lines. He did not seem like a man given over to laughter or humor very often.
Harper’s brain zipped through the details.
Two Suleiman bookings.
The arrival of Daar Suleiman.
