Page 148 of Beast

But Millie doesn’t smile. “The dining room is down this way. Follow me. Dinner is ready, and the mayor is already waiting.”

Dinner is a nightmare.

It’s just the mayor and I sitting at a big table in the formal dining room. It’s a large room, but sitting next to him at the end of the table feels too intimate.

Especially with a lit candle burning between us.

To make matters worse, I know I didn’t get any photos of the town model in his den. Not that I need them. The recording of him and the biker should be enough to take him down.

Yet, what he wants to do with the land the clubhouse sits on feels more personal, and I want proof to show everyone how he lied about it.

But going back in there now would be suicide. If he catches me, he’d probably take my phone off me and destroy the recording.

I have to be sensible about this.

Although, it’s hard when I am right in the thick of it. Sitting with the devil at the table while trying not to look like I have something to hide.

I sit up straighter.

I can do this.

For the club.

His staff serve the main course and pour the wine, and Boney instructs them to leave us.

This feels more like a date than just dinner.

Is he really going to try and seduce me into selling him my land?

Ugh, he’s so gross. So greedy and smug.

He starts with small talk. Then makes his intentions clear when he starts to run a finger along my arm as it rests on the table.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Belle. I’d very much like to get to know you some more.”

He takes a sip of his wine but his eyes remain on me, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.

Because I know what that glint in his eye means. I know why his voice is thick.

I want to yell at him to stop touching me and the words tingle on the edge of my tongue. So I take a gulp of wine to push them down.

I have to go along with this.

For the meantime.

Until I can get out of here.

His finger stops on the top of my hand and draws circles over the skin while he looks at me with suggestive eyes I’m sure he thinks are sexy.

Let’s be clear. It’s not.

Clearing my throat, I reach for the wine bottle to pour another glass, but knock it over, sending a pool of red wine spreading across the pristine tablecloth.

Which ends the hand touching.

“Damn, I’m so sorry,” I say, grabbing the napkin and dabbing at the red stain. “Oh look, it’s all over me too.”

Boney does his best not to look annoyed. “I’ll have Millie fetch you some soda water.”

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