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Feeling defiant, I cross my arms. “And what about what I like?”
Beau throws an elbow on the lip of the booth and leans back. “If you don’t like it, then you can order something else. But I think you’ll find I have excellent taste.”
“I’m sure you do,” I grumble at the arrogance and slide into the other side of the booth. Beau’s long legs are stretched out so far that I bump into one of them with my own. I quickly jerk away and angle my body the other direction.
It takes a minute, but my eyes finally adjust to the low lighting. There’s a large candle flickering in the center of the table. Sconces sit on either side of the drape opening, giving off a similar, warm glow. The walls are covered in a dark, rich wallpaper that blends easily with the wooden floors.
It all gives the area an intimate, warm feeling.
“I’m not even sure what restaurant we’re at,” I say after a moment. I didn’t get a good glance at the dining room in the short walk from the kitchen to here.
“Rara Avis,” Beau answers.
At the name drop, it wouldn’t have mattered whether or not I got a good look at the dining room. I’d never have recognized where we were because I’ve never stepped foot into one of the most exclusive steakhouses in the city.
But clearly, Beau is a regular.
“How do you know Tywin?”
“He and Faraday went to school together, going way back. As I got older and wanted to fly under the radar going out to eat sometimes, Faraday started bringing me here. He knew Tywin wouldn’t sell us out and would ensure that whenever I wanted privacy, I had it.”
A waitress brings in a bottle of wine and two glasses. Beau offers the sample to me, and as much as I wish I could’ve disliked it and demand his taste doesn’t know best, it’s absolutely divine. And I don’t usually love reds.
He doesn’t bother to hide the I told you so look from his stupidly pretty face as he holds out his glass for a cheers.
Our glasses ding, and we each take a long sip. Both well deserved after our work today.
“That was an impressive Hail Mary you threw in today with those private tours. Did you think of that on the spot, or was that planned?”
He swirls his wine. “That was spontaneous. You must have missed Faraday rolling his eyes at me the moment I did it. Now he’s going to have to find two free afternoons in my schedule for them. And serve as a tour guide.”
“Has he worked for you for a long time?” I don’t recall meeting him over the years, but there wouldn’t have really been a reason to be introduced. Today, however, he accompanied Beau.
“He’s been with me since I was old enough to need a secretary. So probably what”—Beau scratches the back of his neck—“fifteen or so years?”
“What does a teenager possibly need with a secretary?”
“A Prince,” Beau corrects with a cheeky grin. “And you should’ve seen my schedule as a teenager. I had a laundry list of items to check off everyday, and if it wasn’t for Faraday keeping me accountable, I would’ve been stripped of my title by Mother herself. I have him to thank for almost everything in my life staying on track like it does.”
“He sounds good at his job.”
Beau’s face grows serious, along with his tone. “He’s amazing at his job. Hell, he’s always gone above anything his job calls for. He helped me study for my driver’s license, accompanied me to doctor’s appointments, cleaned up my vomit after the first time I got drunk, and then lectured me for two hours the next morning until I promised not to drink until I could control that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “He’s done everything for me.”
“Sounds like another father figure for you,” I say softly.
Beau’s jaw ticks. “More like just a father. A king doesn’t have much time to raise children, and any free time he does, it’s not going to go to the spare.”
I pause, wine midway to my lips. The bitterness in his tone seeps across the table, and yet he’s spoken the words as if he’s reciting the menu to me. I want to reach out to touch his hand, the desire to comfort almost overwhelming, but I keep them to myself and settle for saying, “That’s his loss then, and Faraday’s gain.”
Beau’s quiet. He stares at the table as if he’s trying to rein in the memories. I recognize that look. When you’re trying so hard to pack everything away and not let it show.
I know because I’ve been doing it for years. Maybe that’s why I decide to open up myself. Give a little kernel of vulnerability in return for the one he gave.
“It really is his loss, Beau.” I melt into the cushioned back of the booth. It feels wonderful to let my spine curve and shoulders roll forward for a bit. “Because if god forbid something were to happen to Lock like my sister, then he’d probably regret not spreading out his resources like my parents did.”
Beau speaks softly. “Beatrice, right?”
I don’t know why it hits me so hard hearing her name on someone else’s tongue. Or maybe it’s because it’s his and he remembered her. I chew my lip and nod.
