Page 15 of A Mistake of Worth
“Would you like a water back?” Michael offered. “Or soda?”
Henri hesitated, something flickering across his face. “What would you recommend?”
The question carried an undercurrent that caught Michael’s attention. He squeezed Henri’s thigh gently. “Two soda backs, please,” he told the bartender.
Henri relaxed again, more deeply this time. A pattern was emerging.
The bartender returned with their sodas and a menu. “Kitchen’s open for another hour if you’d like something to eat.”
Henri accepted the menu, but Michael noticed how his eyes darted across the options, tension creeping back. Before Henri could start weighing choices, Michael stepped in.
“The charcuterie platter would pair nicely with the Dalmore.”
That subtle relaxation again, accompanied by a grateful glance.
As they waited for food, Michael steered their conversation toward EcoSphere. Henri began explaining La Sauvegarde’s interest in sustainable energy, but kept pausing, seeming uncertain whether to delve into technical details.
“Tell me about their production methods,” Michael prompted. “I’m particularly interested in efficiency ratings.”
Henri’s expression brightened at the clear direction. He launched into an impressively detailed explanation, becoming animated as he spoke. Clearly, he was now in his element, having been given explicit permission to be technical.
As their first drinks emptied, Henri’s hand drifted toward his glass several times before pulling back. Michael caught the bartender’s eye and gestured for another round.
“Thank you,” Henri said softly.
The bar’s temperature dropped suddenly, the AC kicking in hard. Michael noticed Henri suppress a slight shiver. In his light t-shirt and jeans, clearly travel wear rather than his usualtailored suits, Henri was underdressed for the aggressive air conditioning. Without hesitation, Michael shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over Henri’s shoulders.
Henri melted into the warmth for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, before catching himself. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.” He started to shrug it off, but Michael’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“These bars always get cold,” Michael said easily.
“I’m fine,” Henri insisted, clearly wrestling with accepting the gesture. “I don’t need—”
“Henri.” Michael’s voice was gentle but firm. “Are you cold?”
Henri opened his mouth, but Michael cut him off. “Tell me the truth.”
Henri let out a slow breath, shoulders dropping. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “It’s ridiculous. It must be eighty degrees outside, but in here...” He tugged the jacket closer.
“Then keep the jacket,” Michael said simply, squeezing Henri’s thigh. The way Henri relaxed under both the touch and the directive sent satisfaction through Michael.
The conversation shifted back to business, though there was nothing businesslike about how Henri had settled into Michael’s jacket, occasionally turning his head as if catching Michael’s scent on the collar.
Their charcuterie arrived, and Michael found himself fascinated by how Henri would pause, fork hovering, until Michael suggested combinations. Each time Henri followed his recommendations, quiet contentment washed over his features.
An hour passed easily. Their bar stools had migrated closer, Henri’s thigh pressed firmly against Michael’s. The contact felt deliberate, especially given how Henri leaned into Michael’s space whenever he made interesting points about market projections. Michael had maintained physical contact throughout, his hand a steady presence, occasionally squeezing for emphasis.
Making a decision, Michael reached up with his free hand, gripping Henri’s chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing those blue eyes to meet his. The sudden stillness that came over Henri confirmed every observation he’d made.
“Invite me back to the Dorchester,” Michael said firmly.
Henri’s mouth opened, then closed, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
“Invite me back to your suite, baby.”
Henri swallowed hard, then nodded within Michael’s grip. “Would you... would you like to come back to my suite?”
“I would.” Michael released his chin, signaled for the check. He stood, offering his hand to Henri. “Shall we?”
