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“Me neither. It looks new, judging by the fixtures up there and the empty planter pots.”
Robbie looked out to see that there was a cover over the middle of the awning where what appeared to be a name was underneath, and lining the way up to the front door were several large ceramic pots. He let out a relieved sigh. Maybe Julien knew the chef here or something?
Robbie thanked Dave and got out of the car, and as he did, he smoothed his hands down his pants and then wrapped his coat around his shoulders. He walked up the path that was lined with the planters and took a moment to look at the thick wooden beams supporting the awning above.
The place was gorgeous, glamorous in the way only a true classic could be, and when his Oxfords landed on a large mat in front of the revolving glass door, Robbie looked down and saw JULIEN written in white script across the plush black material.
Wait. This place is Julien’s restaurant?
Robbie knew that Julien had restaurants in both New York and L.A. and that they were world class, but he’d had no idea he was planning to open one here. As he realized exactly where he was standing, the door in front of him began to rotate, and coming through it to greet him was none other than Priest.
In pressed black pants and a white dress shirt, on which he’d left the top two buttons open, Priest was the very epitome of casual sophistication, and looked as though he belonged exactly where he was, stepping out of a grand old building. The only thing that would’ve made it perfect was if it was in another time. Maybe when Priest’s pal Sinatra could’ve graced the restaurant and serenaded them all for the night.
Robbie quietly laughed at the thought, wondering when he’d become so fanciful, as Priest stepped out of the door.
Not one to usually care one way or another what someone thought about him, Robbie was surprised to feel a wave of uncertainty wash over him as Priest ran his eyes down his outfit, and then ever so slowly brought them back up to his face.
Robbie was close to demanding that Priest tell him what he thought, but something made him hold his tongue. Maybe the daring look in Priest’s eyes challenging him to speak.
“I see you found the place without any problem,” Priest said, and Robbie looked past his shoulder to the doors with the wooden paneling and golden trim.
“It wasn’t easy without a name.”
“Even with a name, you wouldn’t have found it easier. JULIEN is not yet open to the public.”
So Robbie had been right—this was going to be Julien’s new restaurant. A Chicago location. But if it wasn’t open to the public… “Then why am I here?”
“Because tonight you are not the public.” Priest stepped aside, gesturing for Robbie to walk by, and as he did, he stopped and turned his head to meet Priest eye to eye.
“Then what am I?”
“Tonight, you are ours.”
PRIEST FOLLOWED ROBBIE through the revolving door of JULIEN and kept his eyes trained on the regal set of his shoulders under the bold coat that was draped over the top of them.
Robbie had dressed to impress tonight. Or he’d dressed thinking that he would embarrass and upset. But if that was his intention, he was out of luck. Priest could barely tear his eyes off Robbie’s long legs, which were wrapped in rose-colored pants, or the fitted cream turtleneck he’d tucked in all perfect and proper, which made Priest want to take him to the closest table, lay him down on it, and mess him the fuck up.
But that wasn’t the plan tonight, and when Robbie stopped in the main entrance to the restaurant, Priest came up behind him and said by his ear, “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” Robbie said as he took in the coffered ceiling of the main dining room and the refined neoclassical architecture surrounding them.
The space would eventually hold up to one hundred and fifty guests. But right now, it was empty, save the two of them, and all that could be seen were round tables, with pristine white linens set to perfection, and wall sconces in small alcoves, giving an intimate glow to the room. Off to the left was the bar area, and to the right was a wall lined with hundreds of bottles of wine—that was where they were going.
Priest placed a hand on the small of Robbie’s back, and when he startled at the touch, Priest said, “May I?”
Robbie swallowed, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the space, no doubt searching out Julien, but then he nodded. “You may. But don’t get too handsy back there.”
Priest gave him a questioning look and then urged Robbie in the direction he wanted him to go. “And what constitutes too handsy?”
