Page 200 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

We entered the restaurant, coming into a front foyer area as wide as the whole building, lined with blue-green chairs the same color of the exterior walls. A massive painting the exact size of a humpback whale looked down upon the waiting patrons, depicting that same majestic creature in deep underwater blues. Dapples of light painted its dorsal side. Its small, shining eye held a depth of strange otherworldly wisdom.

Megyn clutched at me, her chest heaving. “Oh, my goodness,” she breathed. “It looks like it could just swim right off the canvas.”

“It is amazing, isn’t it?” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “I’m responsible for that.”

“You?”

“I didn’t paint it,” I said. “But I found the young man who did. He was living on the street at the time. Made a killing off this commission. Now he sells his work to aquariums in several countries.”

Megyn again gave me that look that said she couldn’t believe me.

I cleared my throat. “Come on.”

I led her over to the host, a broad young man who looked as if he could be a fisherman. If seawater could run through veins, then he would be, since it was his seaman grandfather who first opened the restaurant more than half a century ago.

“Mr. Bryant!” he greeted me.

I smiled at him. “Jim. Megyn, this is Jim Bergman, the co-manager of the Lonely Whale. The other manager would be his father.”

“You have a reservation with us tonight, don’t you, Mr. Bryant?”

“I do.”

Jim checked the book to confirm, though he probably would have let me in even if I hadn’t gone through the pains of making a reservation. “Here you are. I’ll take you to your table. Right this way, sir.”

Jim took us past the foyer, down a short hall into the restaurant proper. Megyn gasped out loud, so hard I almost thought she was having a heart attack. She grabbed my arm, wrapping hers around me.

I still had that reaction, that surge of awe and disbelief.

Lonely Whale was three stories, connected by a spiraling staircase. In the center of the building was a towering aquarium tank, around which the floors wrapped, meaning that no matter where a person sat, they had a close view of a variety of tropical fish, ducking and darting in and out of beds of seagrass and brainy coral protrusions. Eels dwelled in the dark shadows between rocks, and harmless, small sharks drifted back and forth from one side of the aquarium to the other.

“There’s a turtle in there somewhere,” I told Megyn. “I’ve only seen him twice. He has little patience for humans.”

Megyn pushed her hands through her hair, tangling them in her bun. “How is this… How is this even possible?”

Jim smiled at her from where he stood waiting for us, hands behind his back. He glowed with pride. “Follow me and I’ll tell you.”

Jim took us to the stairs and we climbed, and he talked.

“The aquarium is actually several smaller aquariums of different sizes, stacked on top of each other. This prevents the fish who don’t like each other from coming into contact.” Jim waved his hand at the tower of water. “Our aquarium is fully functional. We have monthly inspections. All of the equipment and pressurized feeding tubes are artfully hidden so you can have a view unobstructed by nasty pipes and filters.”

We reached the second floor.

“You don’t eat the fish, do you?” Megyn whispered.

Jim laughed. “No. They’d taste terrible. These are not food fish. All our fresh ingredients come straight from the ocean itself. Ask your server to tell you about the chef’s special.”

Megyn looked like she might pass out from what could only be described as culture shock. Whoever she was, whatever life she led, this was an experience unfamiliar to her, though I didn’t know what part was the mystery. The aquarium? The expense that must go into maintaining such a restaurant?

Jim brought us to our table, right in front of one of the aquarium walls, where vibrant yellow and orange coral teemed with colorful small fish. Despite the apparent thickness of the aquarium glass, a faint tinge of seawater perfumed the air.

Jim pulled out our chairs for us. “Please, stay as long as you like. It’s always good to have new customers. Ask for me if you need anything. Your server will be along shortly.”

Megyn sat down and scooted in until her stomach touched the table. Leaning over, she whispered, “What the hell? Am I dreaming? Why is a co-manager playing host? What’s up with the chef’s special?”

I put my hands on the table, palms up. “Give me your hands,” I instructed.

Megyn stared at me.

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