Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Bastien cut into his meat and devoured his food like he hadn’t eaten that day.
“Did you have a reservation?”
“No.” He answered between bites, having manners despite his caveman attitude.
“Then how did you get a table so easily?”
“A friend of mine owns this place.”
“Nice. I need to make better friends…like ones that work at Versace and Saint Laurent.”
He gave a quick smile before he continued to eat.
I cut into my meat and felt my stomach clench because I was starving, the hunger pangs having been silenced by my broken heart for the last couple of days. I dipped my fries into the gravy, small and crispy, and then took another bite of my meat.
Bastien scarfed down his plate quickly, and the next time the waitress came by, she refilled his plate with another serving. It was like a buffet, except you didn’t have to get up and grab food from a communal table.
“Did you skip lunch today?”
“No,” he said. “Just hungry.”
I finished my plate and considered another serving, but I knew I didn’t need it. In a couple minutes, I would feel satiated. I wasn’t packed with pounds of muscle like Bastien, so I couldn’t eat all I wanted, even with the weight I’d lost over the past week.
He finished his second serving—and then ordered a third.
I shouldn’t be aroused by a man’s appetite, but there was something about his that got me going. The fact that he needed to eat thousands of calories a day because he had that much muscle to maintain, because he was strong enough to pick up a table and chuck it across the room like it weighed nothing.
I drank my wine, watched the cars pass on the road outside the window and tried not to stare at him too much because it felt rude. But he didn’t seem to care that he was the only one eating. Didn’t seem to care about anyone’s opinion of anything, frankly.
I liked that about him.
He finished his plate then took a drink from his glass.
“Gonna go for a fourth?”
He smirked at my taunt. “I’ve had enough.”
The waitress took our plates then left the dessert menu behind, which he didn’t look at.
“I think your friend lost money tonight.” He seemed to understand I was just teasing him rather than actually insulting him, so I continued with it.
He smiled even wider. “Good. He’s an asshole.”
“Your friend is an asshole?”
“They’re all assholes.”
“You know what they say, if everyone is an asshole, then you’re probably the asshole.”
“Oh, I’m definitely an asshole,” he said. “But they’re assholes too.” He drank from his glass again, the ice cubes tilting with the angle of the glass. When it was empty, he returned it to the table and ordered another.
I was surprised he didn’t ask how I was doing, why I’d gone dark for nearly a week, but that was something I liked about him. He never applied pressure to delicate matters. For a man, he had incredible intuition. For a man who could lift a car, he was awfully gentle when he needed to be. “How have you been?”
“Busy.”
“With work?”
“I don’t care for politics—but if you don’t care for politics, you’ll be governed by your inferiors.”
“Are you involved in the day-to-day aspects of the Senate?”
“Sometimes. But right now, my time has been focused on finding someone who’s always one step ahead of me.”
“And who’s that?”
“I told you trafficking is a problem, particularly in Paris.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“There’s this asshole who has a whole enterprise centered around it.”
“Then shouldn’t he be easy to find?” I asked.
“No one wants to stick out their neck and snitch, which I get. If they snitch on him, then they can’t be trusted not to snitch on others. And not to mention, they’ll be hung and gutted for the transgression. He’s managed to shut up an entire city, and he knows me well enough to avoid a confrontation.”
“How does he know you well if you’re enemies?”
His fingers rested on the top of his glass, and he gave it a quick shake before he took a drink. “It’s a long story.” Something in his tone suggested it was a story I would never hear, but he was nice enough not to ignore me or shut down the question entirely.
I hadn’t known him very long, but I respected him like hell, respected him too much to pry. “Are you going to get a dessert?”
His mood was still slightly sour. “Sweets aren’t my thing.”
“Do you mind if I get something?”
A slow smile melted over his mouth, something about me getting something sweet bringing affection to his eyes. “Not at all, sweetheart.” He placed the communal menu in front of me. “What are you thinking?”
I looked down at the list. “I love chocolate cake, but I’ve got a weak spot for profiteroles.”
“Know how that goes…”
When the waitress came over, I ordered the pastry with a cup of coffee. “Thanks for letting me get something.”