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When we haven’t even taken her to a place this ritzy.
My ego would be more battered if I weren’t concerned. The Rodent is totally unprofessional for asking Sulli to meet him here—and yeah, I might have no room to talk about professionalism, seeing as how I took my client’s virginity, but I’m not in business with Sulli.
We’re not coworkers.
And Ryan Reed is her boss.
The power imbalance is screwy, and I want to whisk Sulli away. Like Banks, though, I recognize she’s struggling with her independence. Rescuing her before a fall is what I’ve done, and I can’t do that as often anymore.
“No fighting, okay.” She grabs onto our biceps with a loose hold. “I wouldn’t care being undressed, but this is supposed to be for work. Adulting means looking professional, right?” She zeroes in on our wardrobe choice.
Banks and I opted for the black pants and black button-ups, a staple for security at night. If I’d known that I would fit in more than Sulli, I would have just worn some gym shorts for her.
She shrinks. “You two are way more experienced at adulting.”
Banks smiles down at her before hawk-eyeing the space. “We have been adults longer.”
“Yeah, I am twenty-seven,” I point out.
“Twenty-nine for me,” Banks says.
I let out a laugh. I’ll only be a year younger than him soon.
“I like suits,” I remind Sulli since she sees me in workout clothes more than anything. “You like what you’re wearing. Inhale some confidence, string bean.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She stands taller, her full six-foot height. “Except about the string bean part.”
We’re both smiling.
“Incoming,” Banks whispers.
The Rodent pushes to the hostess stand, seeing us at the entrance. He must’ve been seated already out of view. He’s wearing a well-tailored, navy blue suit.
“Sulli, I’m over here,” he smiles and ushers her past the hostess.
But I come out in front and tell him quietly, “Wherever you’re taking her, we need a table beside your table for security.”
Under most circumstances, I work this out in advance with the initial reservation. I would’ve called the restaurant, but it slipped under my other obligations.
Like a three-hour phone call with Connor Cobalt. Trying to stop the leaks and shut down the website is a top priority, but I hate that it’s distracting me from being all there for Sulli.
I should’ve handed the task off to Banks. He’s here. He’s her permanent bodyguard too. He’s more than competent, but I’m still gripping onto her detail.
Let go, Nine.
Let go of work or of her?
I shake the painful thought, just as the Rodent says, “Uh, sure, yeah.” He pales a little. “I think we can manage another table.”
“Great.”
He speaks with the hostess, and after slipping her a…hundred? Banks’ head whips to me. Saw that, I nod to him.
Sulli didn’t.
“This way,” the Rodent gestures Sulli to follow.
She decides not to bail early. Trailing after him, she tells us, “Smells fucking good.”
He overhears and thinks it’s for him. “The vegan zucchini pistachio-crusted pizza is”—he mimes a chefs kiss—“you’ll love it.”
I whisper to Banks, “Doubtful.”
Sulli is cringing at zucchini.
And no wonder we couldn’t see Ryan Reed from the entrance. A reserved sign adorns a private table for two. In a backroom with even dimmer lighting and crystal chandeliers.
I’m a little annoyed.
Okay, a lot annoyed.
“Stay frosty,” Banks whispers.
“My eyes aren’t leaving him, trust me.”
Banks and I settle at our own table for two, only a few feet away. Not in arm’s reach of Sulli but in earshot. And the intimate-sized table looks comically tiny between us.
We watch as Sulli sits fast, too fast for Ryan Reed to pull out her chair.
“I didn’t look this place up,” Sulli admits, grabbing the flower vase. She stretches an arm for us to retrieve the red rose. The Rodent looks alarmed at her fast pace, and before I can stand up and take the flower, a nearby waiter swipes the vase from her hand.
“Thank…you,” Sulli trails off as the waiter disappears. She sets her binder on the table. “I just needed more fucking room.”
Banks and I share a smile.
“It’s no problem.” He leans back, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
She opens the binder. “So I just thought pizza and figured we’d be at a bar or something.”
“Would you have rather gone to a bar?” he frowns. “I just thought…you’re you. You probably want the best. Since you are the best.” He flashes a smile.
Banks casts a cold glare on him.
My muscles sear. Very quietly, I say, “Why in the fudgesickle is her boss flirting with her?”
He crosses his arms over his firm chest. “Let me know when I can punch him.”
We’re not too inconspicuous about glaring. If this guy spots a threat or warning from us, great. He deserves both.
Sulli shifts in her chair. “We’re already here; it’s fine. Can we just talk about swimming?”
26
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
“We have all night,” Coach Reed says. “Let’s order some apps first.”
