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“Crème fraîche,” he murmured softly, and I hoped it was quiet enough that no one else could hear. I’d never had caviar before, and I definitely didn’t know the kinds of things it was served with—but I didn’t want Alaric or Christine to know that. “It’s kind of like sour cream,” he added.
I nodded, taking the small plate from him and inspecting it closely. The mussels looked amazing, but I wasn’t so sure about the caviar. It looked . . . weird. I watched Leo spread some of his caviar on a small piece of toast before adding a small amount of the crème fraîche to the top. And then he popped the whole thing in his mouth, giving me a sly wink. Looking back down at my own plate, I mimicked what he did on a piece of my own toast before taking a careful bite.
I noticed Christine watching me just as an explosion of flavor enveloped my mouth. The bite was butter, savory, and held undertones of what could only be described as ocean water—it wasn’t bad, all things considered. After chewing it down and swallowing the first bite, I made a small show of putting the other half of the toast in my mouth before smiling back at Leo as I chewed.
His eyes danced mischievously, and my body tingled in response.
“So, Leopold, tell me,” Alaric said, setting his fork down against his own side plate and folding his hands in front of him, his thick wrists resting on the table linen, “what do you plan on doing in the long-term with this . . . club of yours?” His tone was condescending. “What’s your end game with it?”
I didn’t miss that his eyes flicked to me momentarily before landing back on his son, as if the question pertained to more than just Larkspur. Leo straightened, his pressed dress shirt stretching across his broad shoulders as his face twisted into annoyance and, more subtly, hurt. Seeing him go from playful to defensive so quickly tightened something in my chest—something unfamiliar. It felt . . . protective.
Definitely furious.
“Probably a great way to meet women,” Tanner said through a mouthful of food. “Pretty smart.”
Leo frowned. “It has nothing to do with women.”
Tanner had the decency to look chastised as he glanced my way. “Right.”
I wanted to slap him.
“Then what is it?” Alaric asked again.
Leo sighed, sitting back in his chair. He stared at his father for so long I could feel the tension rising between them.
“See,” his father continued with a small laugh, “you don’t even know how to properly answer a simple question, do you, son?”
Leo’s lips pressed firmly together before he finally spoke, his sapphire eyes blazing. “I’m perfectly capable of answering your questions, Father. However, I refuse to partake in your mockery. For fuck’s sake, I’m thirty-three years old. I’m not a child.”
“You certainly act like one,” Alaric replied, his tone dismissive despite his raised voice.
“Alaric,” Christine hissed under a sharp breath. “People are looking.”
I scoffed. People are looking? That’s how Christine chose to tame her husband? Not, You’re acting like a bully, or Don’t speak to our son like that, or Leo is perfectly capable of running a successful business. I felt ready to spew venom at these terrible people.
Leo deserved so much better.
Alaric’s eyes snapped to me. “Did you have something you’d like to add?”
I glared back at him. “Don’t you think you’re being a touch unsupportive?”
His eyes widened with a kind of shock that told me he never expected me to actually stand up to him. Leo wrapped a warm hand around my thigh under the table, thumb caressing the side. Tanner cleared his throat before saying, “Now now, sweetheart, calm down—I think Alaric is just looking out for his kid.”
I turned my glare to Tanner, noticing a drop of butter hanging from his lip. Disgust rolled through me at the thought of this man—this stranger—trying to keep me quiet in good-old-boy fashion. He literally had no idea what he was talking about and no business interjecting, yet still felt confident enough to tell me to calm down? “I’m not your sweetheart,” I replied coolly, “and I hardly think any of this is of your concern.”
“It’s not yours either.” Alaric spoke again, his scrutiny of me now out in the open. “I will not have some lowly bartender making any sort of claims against the way I choose to speak to my son.”
“Excuse me.” Anger smoldered in Leo’s features as he glared at his father, his jaw clenching tightly. “You will not speak to her that way, do you understand me?”
Alaric’s mouth twisted as he took another drink from his glass. The server came by, completely unaware of the contention at the table as he presented the bottle of Pinot Grigio that Leo ordered. He gave him a sample in a fresh glass and, when Leo nodded his approval, poured a full serving into two glasses for the both of us. Leo passed one of them to me, and I smiled gratefully. “Thank you, honey,” I said, making a compulsive decision to brush some of his disheveled hair off his forehead.
Leo watched me, his skin glowing softly beneath the romantic lighting of the restaurant, before squeezing my thigh again. “Anything for you,” he said quietly enough that it felt like it was actually meant for me, and not for show.
“Damn,” Tanner muttered on the other side of me. “How long have you two been together?”
It seemed we were dropping the previous conversation.
Leo took charge of responding, his voice losing the warmth it’d just had for me. “Almost a year now.”
