Page 86 of Riot's Thorn
“You’re keeping new and. . . different company these days, Parker. If you need somewhere to stay, you should come stay with me and Anadell. She hasn’t seen you in such a long time, but she’d love to see the beautiful woman you’ve become.” His wife stopped attending any of the family dinners when Grandma died. Bart said she’d be bored to tears with all the shop talk they did, but I wasn’t mad about it because she wasn’t a nice person.
“Oh, I couldn’t inconvenience you. I’m fine staying with my Riot. Honestly.”I’d rather cut my own eyeballs out.
“Okay, well, you have my number now. Call me as soon as you can with that information, and I’ll get right on it.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
He snaps a command to who I’m assuming are his assistants, and they rush over and follow him out of the yard. I guess he’s done paying his respects.
“Listen, I’m sorry I ran, but there are things I?—”
“I know. I’m not here to abduct you. . . again. I just couldn’t let that man think you didn’t have people looking out for you.” He takes both my hands.
“Really?”
“Really.” He yanks me into him and cups my cheeks, tipping my head back for a chaste kiss. “I’ll be back for you soon. You better be ready.”
“Soon?”
He releases me. “Soon, Little Thorn.”
Then he’s walking away, leaving me stunned and confused. What does “soon” mean? When he says he’ll be back for me, what does that mean? He’ll steal me back? He’ll knock on the door and ask for a date?
“Who was that?” Roland demands.
“Apparently, he’s my boyfriend.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend.”
I grin. “Tell that to him.”
Roland shakes his head, as if clearing the biker from his mind. “I think that was the last of them. Why don’t we take off? The stragglers don’t need you here to finish eating the free food and drinking the free booze, and the coordinator will make sure everything gets cleaned and locked up.”
“Good idea. I’m exhausted.” We walk through the house and out the front door to Roland’s car. My own car is still parked in the back, where the valet took it the day Dad died, and there’s no reason I can’t take it, but everything from my old life feels tainted.
“How about some dinner before I return you home?” Roland asks, turning the air on.
“I don’t know. I’m beat.”
“I can get a last-minute reservation at Beaujolais. I know the chef there.”
Running through the options of what I have in my kitchen, I decide a nice dinner at a French restaurant is better than the salad I have waiting for me. “Okay. Sure.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re being seated in front of a large window that looks out on the garden. The small bistro has limited seating with a reservation list miles long; I should know, because this is one of my favorite places to come with Dad.Wasone of my favorite places.
Roland shakes his napkin and lays it on his lap in the practiced way tells me he’s been to finishing school, just like me. It makes sense, considering who his dad is, and it’s admirable he’s lowered his status to be a personal assistant just to learn the business. It’s a good reminder I need to let him go. He’s overqualified with all the decisions I’ve made over the last couple of weeks, and he’ll no longer be getting the knowledge he wanted to receive when he took the job.
“Wine?” Roland asks when the waitress approaches to take drink orders.
“Sure. I’ll let you decide.”
“How about the Meursault 1er Cru Sous Le Dos D’Ane Leftaive? The 2018?”
“Excellent choice,” the waitress says, her posture straightening because her tip just went up with the nearly thousand-dollar wine.
“How are you feeling?” Roland asks once the waitress leaves us to look over our menus.
I sigh. “This was the last big thing on my list to accomplish, other than selling the mansion. Now it’s just a million little things, which doesn’t feel as daunting.”
