Page 66 of Tattletale

“That I’m romantically interested in you.” I wink.

He laughs. “Such a shame. And here I was trying to be on my best behavior. Where did I go wrong?”

“Well, calling me a liar was a bit of a turnoff.”

He scrunches his brows at me. “Except you lied.”

“Well, yes, but no woman wants to be told the truth point-blank like that. You have to dance around the point. For example—I’m not a liar. I simply didn’t tell the truth.”

Gabriel folds his hands and nods. “Thank you for the tip. I will store that in the arsenal of tips for future flirtation.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Flirting with me?”

He clutches his chest, pretending to be wounded. “Wow. That hurts. Apparently, I’m lousy at it.”

I let out a hearty laugh. “Not at all. It was an actual question. I’ve misread men in the past.”

“At the risk of being too forward, I highly doubt that. When it comes to a woman who looks like you, there’s only one thing on a simple man’s mind, and it’sveryeasy to read.”

I duck my head and look up at Gabriel through my lashes. I show him a small pout. “And what about you? Are my looks all that you’re interested in?”

Gabriel smiles. “Ah, I said a simple man, didn’t I? I am a lot of things, Fiona. Simple is not one of them.”

I finally take a long swig of my martini and can’t for the life of me understand Gabriel’s distaste. This is by far the best martini I’ve ever tasted.

“Something on your mind?” He must notice my bulging eyes.

“I’m surprised you put your drink down. This is phenomenal. I’ve had quite a few filthy martinis in my life…this outshines them all.” Somewhat reluctantly, I set the martini down. I don’t want to seem too eager.Keep it classy.Vienne’s voice rings in my head.He likes sophisticated.

“I’ll pass the compliments on to my bar manager,” Gabriel says. “But I can’t drink too much. I have an important meeting later this evening.”

“After ten o’clock on a Friday evening?”Shit.I bite the inside of my lip, realizing how overly inquisitive I sound. Luckily, it seems to go over Gabriel’s head.

“I have business all around the world. Evening here, but morning for my counterparts.”

“Right,” I say, quickly accepting his answer.

Gabriel gestures to the dancer in front of us. “May I ask your opinion on something?” When I nod, he continues. “This is a new stage that we’re trying out. Sort of a play on light and sweet meets dark and dangerous. What do you think?”

I take in a deep breath as I study the confusing scene in front of me. “Would you like me to be polite, or honest?”

Gabriel grins. “Be brutal.”

“This scene makes me want to check the bathroom mirror for empty prescription pill bottles. It’s not the BDSM; that can be quite sexy. It’s just how dark and dingy everything looks. Like a prison cell in a third-world country. Add the random pink accents, and it’s giving me kidnapped, child-bride vibes. I’m not a fan.” I grimace when Gabriel’s silent. “I’m sorry, you told me to be honest,” I add.

“Fiona… I couldn’t agree more. Something wasn’t sitting right with me. It’s why I came here tonight, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I’ll call my artistic director and let him know we need to lose the ‘child-bride’ vibes.” He smirks. “And by the way, that’s what I’m interested in.”

“Pardon me?” I ask.

“I noticed you because you’re beautiful, yes. And I’ll admit, I’m very partial to red, and you happen to look magnificent in it. But I like how shocking this conversation is. Normally, people simply agree with whatever I say, placating me. From you attempting to lie to me, suggesting I’m a voyeuristic pervert, to insulting my integrity, I have to say, I’m quite taken by you, Fiona.”

“Wow, Mr. Lochland, you sound like quite a masochist.”

“Oh, I am the absolute worst kind of masochist,” he says with a wide smile. There’s a soft chime that comes from his wrist. He doesn’t check his watch, but he suddenly says, “I’m sorry. It’s time for me to get going.”

“Duty calls?” I ask, keeping my tone even, but panicking inside.

“Indeed, it does.” Gabriel rises and holds out his hand, offering me a handshake.Shit, just a handshake.I hold on to his fingers, attempting to give them a soft squeeze, but there’s nothing in his grip except formal courtesy.

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