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As I make my way across the bar, Chloe emerges from the hallway where the bathrooms are. I need to get to her before she takes a sip of that wine.
The bar manager sees me beelining and walks over, keeping stride. He can tell something’s wrong.
“Start clearing the place out. Let them take their drinks to go for all I care. Don’t create chaos. Tell them we have to shut down for the night.”
I don’t wait for a response because, while he might manage the place, we own it. He’ll follow my orders without question.
Chloe sits as I arrive at her table. She glances up and does a double take, her eyes widening in recognition. It’s been a while since I saw her last. In person anyway.
“Bash, hi,” she says softly.
I stare down at her and nod. I’m so full of rage right now that I can’t muster a smile for her.
The asshole clears his throat. Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. My expression is dangerous, and fear flickers in his eyes.
“Sebastian Gilroy. And you are?”
A blur of emotions runs through him. Irritation. Anger. Fear. Mostly fear. It gives me a sick sense of satisfaction. He knows who I am. He doesn’t back down, though, proving he really is as dumb as he looks.
To my surprise, he reaches out a hand. “Bradley Du Pont. How do you know Chloe?”
My eyes slowly scan from his face to the hand he’s offering me. When he finally realizes I’m not going to shake it, he clears his throat nervously and lowers it.
He looks me up and down and then swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A fine sheen of sweat coats his forehead, and I feel a little better already. Intimidation is fun. Especially with dipshits like him. Bradley Du Pont. What the hell kind of name is that? And why does it sound familiar?
Moving my attention away from him, I finally smile down at Chloe, who looks like she wants to bolt. I’m sure she’s wondering how long it will be before Kieran shows up.
I reach behind me to grab a chair from the empty table next to theirs, then pull it up right next to Chloe. She looks over at me, mouth slack like she doesn’t know what the hell is going on. Which is accurate. She has no clue. But she’s about to find out.
She lifts her trembling hand to the wine glass in front of her, but before she can pick it up, I wrap my fingers around her wrist to stop her.
“Bash, what are you doing?” she whispers.
Instead of answering her, I look across the table to Bradley and smile. “I think Bradley should try your wine.”
His entire body tenses, but he relaxes quickly and gives me a slimy-ass politician smile. That’s where I know him from. He’s running for something. I don’t have the first clue what, but I’ve seen his name and picture on signs.
Her phone starts ringing, but the tension around us is so thick that I don’t think she hears it. Even though I’m not looking at her, I feel how stiff she is. I want to comfort her, but that will have to wait until I’ve dealt with him.
“I’m not much of a wine guy,” he says.
Most of the restaurant has already cleared out. The music has stopped, and the hum of conversation and glasses clinking has disappeared. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch everyone leave, some carrying their drinks with them as they go. The manager did a good job—and fast. I’ll compensate him generously for that.
I reach for the stem and scoot the glass across the table. “I didn’t ask if you were a wine guy. I said you should try it. Go ahead.”
Chloe tugs on my suit jacket. “Bash, what are you doing?”
Slowly, I put my hand on her knee and squeeze gently. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t say anything more. Wanting to ease her anxiety as much as possible, I start to stroke my thumb along her outer thigh.
I keep my gaze on Bradley and nod toward the glass. “Drink up, pretty boy.”
He sputters and looks around the bar, probably just now realizing the place is empty other than the five of us.
“I wouldn’t try to run if I were you. My two friends over there love a good chase. I also have six more men outside who like to play rough.”
There are no other men outside, but it’s fun to see the fear in his eyes.
“Drink the wine, Bradley,” I say when he looks back at me.
