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Cal turns and marches off, and I guide Rory along behind him. We pass by dozens of festive tables decorated in sharp linens and burning candles. The lights are low, but the restaurant is bustling. Every table is filled. Glasses clank, and the sounds of silverware ticking against plates resounds throughout the space. Quiet conversations take place around us, and the smell of the decadent food fills my nose.
Shit, I hope she likes it here. It’s my favorite place to eat, and I do like to hear my kitten purr.
Cal pauses before a table on a raised section toward the back. Elevated, we get an excellent view of everything below us. Partitions separate these tables from the others, giving privacy on either side while still allowing patrons to look out across the guests gathered below. I love it because it gives us a more private dining experience.
The elegance is ramped up with the secluded tables. Bouquets of flowers emit floral scents, and crystal glasses sit empty on the pristine tablecloth, ready to hold the most expensive champagnes. A candelabra rests in front of the wall, holding three candles with happily flickering flames.
Cal gestures for us to take our seats. “Enjoy. Your server will be with you soon.” With that, he smiles and heads back to the front. I always liked Cal. Even as the owner, he still takes a moment to walk me to my table.
“May I take your coat for you?” I ask Rory as I slip behind her and tug the coat from her shoulders. She allows it to slip off, and I swear I hear a few guests gasp at her beauty. In the soft light, her black dress sparkles, making her look like a star that’s fallen from the night’s sky. It stops mid-thigh and shows off her toned legs, which are only accentuated by the strappy black heels on her feet.
I hang her coat up and pull out her chair. Keeping her eyes averted, Rory sits and allows me to push her in. I take my seat across from her as Shelly, one of the long-time servers here, rushes over.
“Hey there, Mr. Dixen.” Shelly simply gushes every time she talks to me. A sweet woman who’s about my age, Shelly is one of the best servers around. She’s a single mom raising two kids on her own, and she does a hell of a good job doing it too.
“Hey, Shelly! How are the kids?” I ask.
She beams, loving when I ask about them. “Oh, they’re good. Brandon made the honor roll, and Maddy got lead dancer for her recital.”
“That’s wonderful, Shelly.” She takes a breath to continue, when another server wanders over.
“Mr. Dixen! So nice to see you again. Pity I don’t get to serve you today.” Tara isn’t as sweet as Shelly. Unlike the single mom who just likes to strike up a conversation, Tara has ulterior motives. More than once, she’s propositioned me, wanting me for my money and good looks, like so many of the others.
“Hello, Tara,” I greet with much less enthusiasm. Tara doesn’t care though, and she leans over the table, making sure I can see down her shirt. There might have been a time when I would have glanced at what she has to offer, but now I only have eyes for Rory.
“Let me know if I can interest you in dessert after your meal,” Tara whispers before standing back up and strolling away.
“I-I’ll just get Connor for you,” Shelly stutters, her cheeks flushed from that awkward exchange. Shelly leaves, and I turn to Rory, who’s playing with the condensation on her water glass.
“So! What do you think? Isn’t this restaurant great? It’s my favorite place to eat.”
“I can see why,” she mumbles under her breath. Though I don’t like her tone, I let it slide because Conner walks up then and hands us the wine menu.
“Good evening, Mr. Dixen. I’ve already placed your hors d’oeuvres order for you. It should be out in a few minutes.” Conner smiles, showing off his bright, white teeth. He’s tall and thin with a clean-shaven face and a head full of untamed black hair. Though young, Conner, Cal’s son, is one hell of a server. His knowledge about wines is immense. He knows how I prefer each dish to be cooked and has the timing between hors d’oeuvres, the main course, and dessert down to a fucking T. I tip him well for it.
“Thank you, Conner. Give us a few minutes to decide on drinks, won’t you?”
He bows slightly. “Of course.” Conner backs away, and I finally have Rory to myself. I reach across the table and grasp her hands, squeezing lightly. I haven’t felt this happy in months. Perhaps I don’t need the drugs after all.
“Have you taken a look at the wine list?” I inquire, releasing her hands to look at the menu, even though I have most of it memorized.
She folds her menu and sets it on the table. “Actually, I think I’ll just—”
“Hey there, Alistair. Fancy seeing you here.” I struggle not to roll my eyes, recognizing the woman the voice belongs to.
“Not really, Veronica. I come here all the fucking time,” I snark. Rory seems to shrink up as Veronica approaches. Her long red hair is curled perfectly, and her trampy red dress barely covers her huge fake tits. Veronica is successful in her own right. She’s a topless model who’s been the centerfold in many magazines, which she always seems to have copies of in her huge fucking purses. That’s one thing I’ll never understand about some women. Why the hell do they need purses large enough to hide dead bodies in? What could they possibly keep in there?
“You never returned my calls, big boy. Perhaps I took your number down wrong?” Veronica brushes her hair over her shoulder and presses her chest forward, causing the straps of her dress to strain. If she pushes any harder, I think the poor things will sever.
“I never gave you my number, Veronica, but as you can clearly see, I’m busy. Have a good night.”
I turn away from the vixen, hoping she gets the hint. “Suit yourself, but if you ever want to have the best night of your life, you know where to find me.”
This time my eyes roll on their own, but Rory doesn’t see. Her knuckles grip the napkin on the table, her green gaze lowered. Just as Veronica leaves, Conner stops by with a full tray.
“Here we are!” He sets down plates filled with oysters, shrimp, and lobster crostini. “I’ve also brought you a bottle of our finest chardonnay.”
Conner snaps his fingers, and another server rushes up to our table, puts down two glasses, and fills them for us. Then he places the corked bottle in a wine chiller and places it on the table for us.
