“I doubt it. It’s a French restaurant. Do you need me to order for you, Elizabeth? I would, of course, be happy to translate, once you tell me why I’m here.” It’s official. My mood hasn’t improved since this morning. I also have a sneaking suspicion that it will get a lot worse before we’re finished this evening.
Elizabeth turns around and beckons over our host, ruining all of my fun. “Could I have a menu in English, please?” She then proffers hers back to him.
“Why, of course, madam. Right away.” Damn it. I should have slipped him some cash. See? What did I say earlier? I am not on my game. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I am still going to have my fun.
Elizabeth smiles at me, advertising her victory, but she hasn’t won yet. I’ll let her think that she has for the time being, though.
“How is it you have worked in this industry as long as you have without learning a few languages?” All the operatives that work for her speak at least three languages, and some have as many as ten under their belts. I was brought up with them. It’s almost second nature for me to slip from one to another. I don’t even think about it.
Elizabeth raises her very attractive eyebrow at me. “I don’t need to speak half a dozen languages. That’s what I employ you guys for. I just need to know how to keep you in line.”
Touché.
“And do you?” I’d love to know her take on this. Our little office can be difficult at the best of times. It has too much testosterone, attitude, and firepower.
“Most of the time.” She then unleashes a killer smile. “Occasionally, one proves difficult, but I have my ways.” I bet you do – but you’ve never come across the likes of me before, Elizabeth Sharkey.
“Of course you do,” I reply innocently.
A bottle of champagne then lands on our table. It’s one that I ordered earlier. Elizabeth needs to loosen up. I’m going to help her along that path. Pouring out two generous glasses, one of which will not be touched, I hold mine up in the air.
“Here’s to managing people,” I say. “May you always be able to wrap them around your little finger.”
Elizabeth flips her long blonde hair away from her face and clinks glasses with mine. I am trying my best not to study the outline of her bra, which is just visible through the cream silk of her blouse. It’s a distraction that I do not need, as is the sexy scent of her perfume. It’s Chanel, if I’m not much mistaken, and if I had to make a guess, I’d say it was, ‘No 5.’ I have a finely tuned nose, mostly because I’ve had a lot of practice sniffing perfume over the years.
So, there we sit at the table, with Elizabeth crossing and uncrossing her legs beneath it, just so she can occasionally scrape her heel up the inside of my trouser leg. The woman is persistent, I’ll give her that. Do you really want to take this on, Adrien? It’s not that she isn’t attractive enough, because believe me, she is. There aren’t many men who’d say to no to her, and she knows it. Maybe it’s that confidence I feel a little disconcerted by, but I scrap that idea nearly as soon as it comes into my head. Leader has that same confidence, and I’d fuck her in a heartbeat. Leader would come with less strings attached, though. When I get bored of her, I can bin her. Elizabeth would prove more problematic. By the end of the meal, I’ll know if I want to take her on. This can only go one of two ways. I stay or walk away. Which is it to be?
“I think I’ll have the quail, followed by the halibut,” she muses. They are uninteresting and totally insipid choices. Where is her sense of adventure?
“You won’t,” I remark casually. I wait patiently. There’s no way she’ll let that remark go.
“Come on, Adrien. You can’t leave that sentence hanging. What is wrong with my choice?” Elizabeth picks up her champagne glass and twirls it around in her fingertips. I can see the bubbles rising to the surface as she tips it up to take a sip.
“You’re at a French restaurant. You need to try the specialties. Eat something that screams ‘France.’
“I’d rather fuck something that screams France,” she mutters, knowing damn well I can hear her.
“You might be later, if you learn how to keep those claws sheathed.” I wink at her. Two can play this game.
“So, what are you having?” she asks, looking at the menu yet again. She might as well not bother. She won’t be needing it.
“The same thing that you’re having, as it happens.” There’s no way she’ll like it, but that’s not my problem.
“You are not ordering for me, Adrien. Don’t even think about it.” She waggles her finger at me, as if I’ve been caught talking in class. I resist the urge to bite it, tempting though it is.
“You are correct, Miss Sharkey. I am not ordering for you.” I fold my hands together and place them in front of my mouth to hide my smile.
“Why do I get the feeling you are talking in riddles?” Elizabeth looks at me suspiciously.
“Septime is a very beautiful restaurant,” I say, changing the subject. “What made you choose it?” I leave my menu open in front of me but make no move to look at it. Instead, I cast my eyes around at our fellow diners, and admire the scenery. There’s lots of interesting things to look at. Lots of older men with younger women, bosses with their secretaries, lovers, families, and business acquaintances – like us. Gold glitters all around the restaurant, on necks, dangling from ears, wrapped around wrists, and displayed prominently upon expensive handbags. There is plenty of money here. All the waiters are elegantly attired in black tie, there’s lots of silverware, sparkling glass, honeyed wood tones, and carefully piped music. The atmosphere is formal, but relaxed. The lighting is subtle, and greenery is everywhere. It’s a bit like an outside garden, inside. Flowering foliage hangs from the ceiling, the walls, and sprouts up around the tables in tall, elegant vases. It’s a new restaurant, but I decide that I like it.
“You strike me as a snob, Dumortier. If I’d said I was taking you for a burger, would you have come?” This makes my lips twitch. She has me pegged. Mind you, she should. It’s her job to know everyone’s secrets, including mine. I wonder how many she has discovered. I have a great many to unravel. If she wanted to make it her mission in life, I suspect it would take her years to unearth them all.
“No.” It’s not that I have anything against burgers, but if I’m going to have to suffer through a work meeting on top of an already extremely challenging day, the food had better be worth my while.
“Actually, you would have, but you’d have been pissy about it.” I stare at those glossy lips of hers for a fraction longer than necessary. Naughty words sound wrong from her lips, which makes it all the more appealing to have her utter them. If I had her tied to my bed, I might have to make her swear all night.
“It’s possible,” I concede. “I’d have needed more than you gave me initially, though. Which reminds me, why am I here, Elizabeth?” Now I have the conversation back where I want it, and she has a full glass of champagne inside her, I have half a chance of getting a decent answer. We’ll wait and see.
“You’re here because I want something.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “That much, I’d already figured, Elizabeth. My only question is: what?” I already know I’ll be required to do something I don’t want to do. This is why we’re out to dinner. She’s going to sit there and give me Bambi eyes all evening, so I’ll succumb to whatever madness it is she wants me to do. If she thinks having sex with her is incentive enough for me to get myself killed, she’s much mistaken. I’ll happily take my amorous advances elsewhere.
Elizabeth doesn’t get the chance to answer that question because our meal chooses that moment to arrive. You can smell the garlic from ten meters away. It is pungent and earthy. Excellent.
“Madam, your meal.” The host smiles pleasantly enough, while I whisk the menus away.
“My what?” Elizabeth looks at him stupidly. I am going to enjoy myself so much in the next ten minutes. There is a good chance she is about to throw an epic fit. She might even get herse
lf banned from Septime if I’m lucky. This will go around the office for years.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us a few minutes ago, darling,” I drawl. “I spoke to the chef directly, and he was very accommodating.”
Sharkey looks ready to explode. I wonder whether she is about to go apoplectic upon our host and start throwing things, but somehow she manages to rein it in. Damnit. I felt sure she’d go nuts.
“Why thank you, Adrien,” she then purrs, with a look that is pure venom. “How thoughtful of you.” She then smiles graciously at our host as he is finally allowed to place our plates down on the table. She might think she’s won this round, but she hasn’t. Elizabeth has yet to see what she’s about to eat. I brace my eardrums for imminent disaster.
When our host has left, she hisses, “What is this?” She points to her plate in horror. Her question is rhetorical because she knows exactly what it is. These little critters are pretty hard to mistake for anything else, but hey, I’ll play along.
“They’re called ‘Escargot,’ I believe. They’re a French delicacy,” I add, licking my lips for effect. Elizabeth is unamused.
“Why on earth would the French eat these?” she whispers in horror.
“We don’t like fast food,” I say, grinning. I don’t think she’s in the mood for jokes, though.
She’s still aghast at the sight of a dozen snail shells that are liberally swimming in garlic butter. God, I love that smell. I, for one, can’t wait to get stuck into these little beasties. If Elizabeth wants to sit there and go vegetarian on me, that’s her problem.
Our host then comes back to deliver our specialized cutlery – two pairs of steel tongs which are accompanied by tiny two-pronged forks. He also places a large basket of French bread on the table. My mood has started to improve.
Placing salt and pepper grinders on the table, he then starts to walk away, but catches a glimpse of my boss’s face.
“Are you okay, Madam?” he asks politely.
“Yes, are you okay, Elizabeth? You look a little peaky. Maybe we should postpone this meeting for another day?” I wait for her to admit defeat and demand another starter. She does no such thing.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Is it possible I could get a carafe of water, though?”
“Of course, Madam.” Our host then whisks himself away to do her bidding.
I sit there with my tongue in my cheek, thoroughly entertained.
“There’s no way you’re going to eat those,” I say, picking up my first snail and scooping it out of its shell. “Why not just give in gracefully and ask for something else?” Pressing the little beastie up to my lips, I suck it inside my mouth and sigh blissfully. “God, these are good,” I mumble.
“You are probably right,” she says, gazing at her plate before gazing back at me. It’s official. I’ve already ruined the evening and we’ve barely even begun. I have to confess I am feeling quite pleased with myself.
“Tell you what,” I say, with mischief dancing in my eyes, “if you can eat every single last one of those little critters, you can come back for coffee this evening.” I’m laying down the gauntlet. I’m curious to see if she’s anywhere near as ballsy as she appears to be. Besides, I haven’t said I’ll sleep with her, and I’m more than capable of kicking her out after I’ve poured her a Nescafe.
Elizabeth stares at me and shakes her head. “I’m not sure even you are that good in bed, Adrien.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say smugly. “I am that good. No matter, though, because you probably couldn’t handle me, anyway.” That is sure to light a fire underneath her.
Elizabeth looks down at her plate again, which is swimming in little pools of garlic and parsley, as she begins to size up whether a night with me is worth suffering for. Little does she know, but the suffering just gets worse as the evening wears on. It might veer in a different way, but torture is my middle name.
“Do you do this with all of your dates? Do you enjoy watching women squirm, Adrien?” Elizabeth picks up her fork and examines it closely. Is she actually planning on eating her appetizer? Nah. The woman will run screaming before touching a single morsel on that plate.
“I love watching women squirm, Elizabeth. You already know that.” I’ve now almost finished and I’m pretty sure I’ll have seconds shortly. This is excellent news because I am starving. Due to my mega hangover, I’ve eaten virtually nothing all day.
“I think I’ll pass if you don’t mind,” Elizabeth finally says. I smile victoriously and reach for her plate.
“Your choice. I’ve got Tegan lined up if you bomb out on me.” I haven’t, but I probably could have if I gave her a call. I spear another snail on my fork and wave it about in the air. I’m not sure if she’ll get annoyed at the thought of me with another woman, but I’m curious enough to find out. I’m one of the few men that doesn’t mind a jealous woman. I like angry birds. Snigger, snigger.
Interestingly enough, she does. “Give those back here, Adrien.” Her voice is authoritarian. I love it when she gets all high and mighty with me. I can’t wait until I strip her down and knock the stuffing out of her. It’s only then I’ll know what she’s made of. At the moment, she talks the talk, but can she walk the walk? My money says no.
Reluctantly, I hand the plate over. “You aren’t going to eat them, so I really don’t see the point,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. Besides, these snails have my name on them. They look so tasty.
“Oh, I am going to eat every last one of them, Adrien. If I throw them up all over your bedroom floor later, it’ll be your job to clear up the mess, though.” Grabbing her tongs, she copies my earlier movements, and places her first snail in her mouth. Impressive. I can count on no hands the amount of females I have managed to coerce into eating snails. Elizabeth, apparently, doesn’t mind a challenge. She is either one mule-headed woman or she is really desperate for sex.
The expression on her face is priceless as she begins to chew the first beast. I’m tempted to take out my phone and get a snap, but I think I’m in enough trouble as it is.
After she’s swallowed her first, she gives me a surprised glance. “These aren’t as bad as they look.”
“It’s the garlic. Garlic makes anything taste good,” I say, smirking. “Anyway, why am I here? If you tell me now, I’ll see if I can cancel the frog’s legs we’ve got coming next.”
Elizabeth nearly chokes on her next mouthful. When she’s finished it, she gives me a dark look. “You never do anything by halves, do you, Adrien?”
I sit back and pour myself a generous glass of water. “You wouldn’t have hired me if I did,” I say, raising the glass to my lips.
She nods. “Fine. I need you to get something from Leader for me.”
“You need me to what?” I almost spit my mouthful of water across the restaurant. When I have somehow managed to get rid of it, the expression on my face is murderous. “You know what happened the last time I went up against her? She nearly killed me. I’m still not sure why she didn’t. If I go up against her again, you’d better get my funeral plans in order.” I’m not joking. I’m already the laughingstock of the office. I don’t see why I should have to have my face rubbed in the dirt again quite so soon.
“That can be arranged. What song would you like played?” Elizabeth finishes the last of the snails and smiles in triumph. Fuck. It seems I have underestimated her on all accounts. I knew my day was going to go from bad to worse. It’s official. Today I am going to be shagging the boss. I need shooting - preferably not by Melinda Leader. Mind you, if someone has to kill me, I’m not against her being the chosen one. When the light dies in my eyes, I wouldn’t mind her face being the last image I’ll ever see.
“This isn’t funny,” I say. Actually, though, it could be. “How about ‘Another One Bites The Dust? I’m also quite partial to ‘Highway to Hell.’ Think you can sort that out for me?” I can just imagine the look on the Funeral Director’s face. By the way, I’m saving, “‘Ding Do
ng The Witch Is Dead,’ for yours,” I add. If I’m around for that one, and it looks unlikely.
“Done.” Elizabeth says, without missing a beat. “Now go and sort out my dinner before I decide I have to fire you after all.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “You aren’t going to fire me before we’ve had sex.”
“Adrien,” she says warningly, as our hosts collects both of our plates. He takes one look at her face and runs away quickly. It’s a good move. She can be quite fearsome on occasion, but then again, so can I.
“There’s no way I’m going up against Leader again and there isn’t anything you can say to make me change my mind.” I’m so annoyed right now, I could happily watch her chomp through a mountain of frogs.
“How much do you want to bet I can’t get you to change your mind?” Elizabeth takes a sip of her champagne and smiles.
“There’d be no point in my making that bet. There is nothing you have that I want.” Sure, I wouldn’t mind a ride between those rock-hard thighs and that sexy face, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to get that, anyway.
“Oh. Is that right?”
“That’s right,” I confirm. “I don’t need money, sex, or a funeral that badly.”
“You do want to get even with Leverett, though, don’t you?” That sentence makes me sit up in shock. Dammit. Now she has my attention.
“What do you know about James?” I hiss. This is important, and the sooner I know, the better.
“All in good time,” she replies, just as our host comes back with our entrée. Uh oh. Still, this should be fun. Holding the plates aloft in mid-air, he waits for Elizabeth to move her hands from the table. She does no such thing. I, however, remove mine.
The waiter dithers, obviously preferring to serve the female first, but when she makes no move to allow him to do his job, he places one plate down in front of me. I should point out here that I did not order frog’s legs. They taste like chicken. They’re okay, but they’re not great and that’s all I need to say on the matter. What I have ordered, however, is Chateaubriand, and it is fucking amazing.
Deadly Retaliation: A Dark Bully Harem Romance (A Twisted, Dark and Deadly Romance Book 1) Page 6
