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Boss.He sighed, but at least it was better than dude.
They only did one seating on weeknights, so after making sure everything was running smoothly he went to join Wendy. She smiled at him, raising her snifter in a silent toast.
“Thank you for this. How did you know it was my favorite?”
“Because it’s as sweet and strong as you are.”
The pretty color flooded her cheeks again even as she shook her head.
“You don’t know me well enough to assume either of those things.”
“Don’t I? You were sweet enough to want to help when you discovered the issue with the appetizer and strong enough not to let Chef run you out of the kitchen.”
He could tell she was preparing to argue, but she finally just raised her glass and took another sip.
“Now,” she said, leaning across the table towards him and lowering her voice. “Are you going to tell me what’s going wrong with your restaurant?”
CHAPTER 6
For a second the red gleam flashed in Damian’s eyes, but Wendy waited patiently and he finally sighed.
“Can we discuss this elsewhere? There are some very keen ears in this town.”
Since she knew many of the Others had enhanced senses, his request made sense, but…
“Where?”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to come upstairs to my rooms?”
His voice dropped to a low, seductive tone, those dark eyes fixed on her face again. For a moment she was tempted, but she had the feeling she would be playing with fire.
“No thank you.”
He seemed to have expected her answer because he only nodded, and picked up her glass.
“Then we’ll go to the office.”
Calling the small room tucked behind the kitchen an office was definitely an exaggeration. Although there was a desk under the window on the outside wall and file drawers beneath the glass-doored china cabinets on the other wall, there was barely room for two chairs between them.
Maybe I should have gone upstairs after all, she thought nervously as they sat and her knee brushed his. An electric shock coursed through her body from the brief contact, but she did her best to conceal it, demurely smoothing her dress down over her knees. He leaned back gracefully, considering her over his steepled fingers.
“What makes you think there’s a problem?”
“The inconsistencies. Everything else I ate was delicious and I suspect the appetizer would have been as well if someone hadn’t replaced salt with sugar.”
“Is that what happened?” he demanded.
He leaned forward, abandoning his relaxed posture, and she caught a brief terrifying glimpse of fangs.
“Yes. And I don’t think it was an accident. It seemed almost… malicious. Has it happened before?”
“Not that specifically, no, but there have been other incidents.”
“Like what?”
“Supplies getting diverted, plumbing issues, laundry issues, smoking chimneys.”
Did he give her a sardonic look with the last words? She did her best to keep her voice calm as she continued.
