“He made it sound like there was no use. Maybe she’s not a shifter and wants no part of him.”
“She may be worried about his reputation,” Renata said, finally meeting Basilio’s gaze.
“That’s not who he is. That’s who they expect him to be.”
“He does nothing to dispel the way the media makes him look, though.”
“Honestly, baby, he shouldn’t have to. Just a date or two with somebody doesn’t mean they’re sleeping together. The media does that by calling whoever they photograph him with his flavor of the week.”
“It used to not bother him, he found it funny. But now…”
“Maybe that’s the problem. She’s seen it, and wants no part of him, even if she is a shifter.”
“He said he was going to have to look the other way, for years.”
“Yeah. I just want to fix it for him,” Basilio said.
“Me, too,” Renata said, leaning her head against her mate. “But if I know anything about Kaiser, I know that he would resent anything anyone does to try to help him. It’s a matter of pride to him to stand strong alone. He thinks being twenty-five means that he’s got to do it alone.”
“I know.”
“So what do we do?”
“We just let him know that we’re here whether he wants to talk, just sit quietly, or rage at the unfairness of fate. And we let him know that we’ve got his back no matter what it is that he does, or needs us to do. Until he’s ready to confide in us, that’s all we can do.”
Chapter 7
Kaiser pulled open the heavy, decorative wooden door of the steakhouse and stood aside as Cristie stepped in ahead of him. He followed her in and came to a stop beside her, the right side of his body grazing her left side as he placed his hand to the far right side of the small of her back effectively achieving two things — establishing himself as protector over her, and at the same time broadcasting his exclusive rights to be at her side. One was authentic, the other was simply a move to ensure that any males, or even females, in the restaurant that happened to be tempted to approach either of them would view them as a couple and stay away.
“Good evening! Welcome to Succulent. Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked.
“No, we don’t. What is the wait time?” Kaiser asked, his deep voice resonating naturally as he spoke.
“It’s about forty-five minutes,” she replied, trying to look up at him, but obviously being flustered by his presence. A lot of human women were, and this one was young so it made it worse.
Kaiser looked down at Cristie. “Do you want to wait?”
“Do you mind?” Cristie asked.
“Not at all. We’ll be over at the bar, let us know when it’s our turn?” Kaiser asked.
“Of course,” the hostess said. “Name?” she asked.
“Lyakhov. Kaiser Lyakhov,” he said, then took Cristie by the hand to lead her through the small crowd to the bar to wait for their table.
The hostess wrote his name and ‘party of 2’ in her book, then watched with envy as the tall, beautiful man led an even more beautiful woman through the crowd.
Her manager was suddenly right behind her, looking over her shoulder. “Is that who I think it is?” he demanded in hushed, but urgent whispers.
“Who?” she asked, moving aside slightly and looking over her shoulder at him.
“What is that man’s name?” he asked, sliding his finger down the page as he quickly looked at the names waiting for a table.
“What man?” she asked.
“The one that just walked away from your station,” he snapped. “It is! It’s Kaiser Lyakhov!” he hissed. “I can’t believe you didn’t seat him right away.”
“We don’t have any tables!” she said. “Besides, who is he?”
