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“You’re more than welcome to stay in here without any food. Your choice.”
Her cheeks flush in a way that would be cute if she wasn’t determined to rub my nerves raw. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t have any choices, remember?”
That’s not true. She made the choice to start for the hotel within moments of receiving that message earlier. She could have chosen to stay where she was. She didn’t because it meant helping her brother. That could be why I’m able to fight back my irritation at her ceaseless questions, not to mention the attitude she’s giving me.
We walk to the elevator together. Pushing for the third floor, where the restaurant is located, it only takes a few seconds to arrive.
I requested one of the private rooms be prepared for us, and I’m pleased to find the table set and waiting when we arrive. From the corner of my eye, I watch her take in our surroundings. There isn’t much to see. Naturally, she has to point this out like I don’t know. “You’re really into black and metal, aren’t you?” she murmurs, eyeing the gold sconces mounted on the black walls. Their light is muted, leaving the room cast in shadow. Only the candle that flickers between us once we’re seated gives me a clear view of her expression.
“It unifies the general theme,” I explain as a door opens behind where she’s seated. “At least, that’s what the decorator told me. Our clientele seems to appreciate it.”
She jumps when a staff member appears at her side. I have to fight back a smirk as I order a bottle of wine. “Did you hire ninjas?” she hisses. “Because I did not hear him come in.”
“Not ninjas, but they understand the value of discretion. Our guests appreciate discretion above nearly everything else.”
“Who are your guests?” Hunger drips from the question. She even leans in, eyes gleaming like she expects to unlock a mystery.
“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”
“And what is it you do? Or is that confidential as well?”
“I send Griffin around town to pick up random girls at bus stops.”
She rolls her eyes, which would irritate the hell out of me but somehow leaves me fighting off another smirk. She’ll be easier to manage once she has a little wine in her.
“How about instead of you asking a bunch of questions we both know I’ll never answer, you answer a few questions of mine?” A platter of bread, cheese, and cured meat comes with the wine and sits between us on the table as the bottle is uncorked. I wave a hand toward it. “And you must be hungry. Please, help yourself.”
She can pretend all she wants to have her act together, but it falls apart once her hand shoots out, and she snatches a slice of aged cheddar off the board. Her eyes widen at the first bite, and she quickly takes another piece before she’s finished the first. When was the last time she had a decent meal?
“So tell me.” I sip my wine—a rich, full-bodied red that will pair nicely with the beef I’ve ordered in advance. “How did you come to work at a grocery store?”
She snorts softly, staring at me like she doesn’t believe the question at first. When it’s obvious I’m not joking, she lifts a shoulder. “I guess it was always my dream. Stocking shelves. Getting bitched at by customers who try to use expired coupons. It’s such a thrill. A dream job, really.”
I cough to cover up the laugh that bubbles in my chest. Note to self: don’t have anything in your mouth after asking her a question. I would’ve sprayed her with wine otherwise. “I’m sure plenty of little girls dream about a glamorous life stocking produce.”
“But I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to live it.” She tests a slice of salami, and a soft grunt shows her approval. “The electric company likes it when I pay my bill. The store pays me to work. It’s pretty simple.”
“What is it you want to do?”
She eyes me over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip of her wine that quickly turns to her downing half the glass at once. I doubt she’s ever had anything so fine. “Is that a serious question?”
“I don’t ask anything but serious questions.”
“It’s just... you seem to know so much about my life, and you assume what I want to do plays any part in it. Make it make sense.”
“Point taken.” I hadn’t expected this from her. This sassy attitude that only seems to intensify the more she drinks. That’s by design. I want her loose, willing to share. I also want her to obey my commands.
“What about you?”
“Why don’t you eat, instead?” I nod over her shoulder, where a pair of staff members carry our prime rib along with a handful of side dishes—potatoes au gratin, creamed spinach, and macaroni and cheese studded with chunks of lobster and shrimp. Her eyes might very well fall out of her skull if she’s not careful. “Please, help yourself.” There’s something oddly satisfying about watching her dig in with abandon. She doesn’t hesitate to accept another large glass of wine, either. This is going well. Better than I’d hoped, anyway.
Or so I want to believe until she meets my gaze. “How did you know I left the room?”
I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “I just did. I make it my business to know what goes on under this roof.”
“How did Griffin know where to find me? He just like showed up at the store. I never told him where I work.”
“You would have to ask Griffin about that.”
