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Hurt spears me. This time when I tug my foot, Jafar lets go of it.
“Aren’t you going to the Met tomorrow?”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
So what in the heck am I supposed to do all day? I bite back a frustrated sigh and reach for my purse to pay. I’m ready to get the heck out of here.
Jafar notices and says, “Dinner is on me.”
When he says it, I don’t feel like it’s because he thinks I expect it. Well, that’s how I feel until Jasmine snorts.
“Of course we’re paying, Ellie. That’s why you keep us around.”
“Is that what you really think?”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“That I’m friends with you, so you can pay for things?”
“I was just teasing, Ellie.”
But I don’t think she was. Reaching into my purse, I pull out a twenty, tossing it on the table. It might not cover everything, but it will at least cover my drinks. I look expectantly at Jasmine because I can’t leave until she stands. She sighs and slides from the booth. Shit. My shoe is still under there. Jafar stands, too, and bends.
“Drop something?”
He’s holding my flat. My gaze goes to his. That means he knows he was rubbing my foot. There’s a challenging glint in his eyes, daring me to say something.
My face flames. “Must have fallen off.”
I take it, sliding it on. And then I get the hell out of there as fast as I can. Lord knows I have plenty to think about on my walk back to the hotel. Mainly, why was Jafar rubbing my freaking foot? And why did I like it so much?
5
Jafar
My jet lands in Chicago late in the evening. Razoul is complaining as we walk down the stairs to the waiting car.
“Why did we have to come at night?”
Because I want to keep these people on their feet. I’d expect the same if they came into my territory. There was recently a coup attempt with the Di Bello Family, and I’m sure as fuck not walking blindly into a situation after what happened to both my father and my uncle on two separate occasions.
“Stop complaining. You’ll have plenty of time to play. We’re here for a fucking week.”
He glares at me. “I hope you’re going to take my advice and reach out to the Behr brothers while we’re here because you need to get laid.”
“I already have.”
“You have?” He grunts. “Good. Are we going to Neverland tonight?”
“You are free to do whatever you want once we check into the hotel.”
Luca Di Bello is putting us up in his hotel, Hôtel de Lumière. I’m curious to see what he does that has people coming back religiously when they’re in town. Tomorrow morning, I have a breakfast meeting with him and his wife, Dove. After that I’m meeting with Midas, and then Hook, and then the Behr brothers. My meeting with them is a little less formal, since I will end the night with one of their whores at their club, Neverland.
We arrive at Hôtel de Lumière and are greeted like royalty. The concierge leads us to the check-in counter where the hotel manager himself checks us in. The lobby is bathed in yellow light from real candles sitting in candelabrums. I’m impressed. I would have never thought to use real candles. The walls are dark purple, and every accent piece is gold. It screams old-world money, and people love that shit.
Razoul whistles in the elevator. “Fancy digs. Did you see the painting in the lobby? It recently sold at auction for one-point-five million.”
“Guess Di Bello is the fucker who outbid me on it.”
