Page 57 of The Boss
Drops of rain started to splatter on the windshield, and he flipped on the wipers.
“Yeah. He liked to knock Terrance and I around.” Conall shrugged. “Terrance finished him.”
“Good for him. Remind me to shake your brother’s hand when I see him again.”
The closer they got to the city, the harder the rain fell, until he had the wipers on full power. It didn’t matter, because a few more corner turns had them arriving at their destination. He parked in his designated spot near the back. His soldiers were already waiting there for them, and they opened the doors for both him and Conall.
Conall frowned at him over the car’s low roof, then glanced toward the building they were parked behind. “Is this it?”
The back of the building wasn’t anything amazing, but it was too dark here to see the beauty the restaurant had to offer. Sloan grinned at him. “No, pet, this is the secure car park. Come.” He slid his hand into Conall’s warm palm, interlinking their fingers, and guided him toward the back door where another of his soldiers was already waiting. The solider opened the door for them and bowed slightly when they entered. The hallway led them past the kitchen, the smell of rich flavor-infused food teasing his nose as he steered Conall further in.
Finally, Sloan pushed at a door that opened onto the main dining floor. One of the well-dressed waiters was already waiting for them, and he bowed low, gesturing toward the side of the room. Conall, like the good pet he was, didn’t ask where they were going when Sloan led him past the glamorous tables with lit scented candles and a bottle of wine in a steel bucket in the center of each one.
Another waiter—with blond messy curls that reminded Sloan of Taylor—opened the door for them, and they stepped onto an almost deserted patio beside the Hudson River. It was closed in with floor-to-ceiling windows, but there was only one table in the large, spacious area. The enclosure offered protection from the cool wind, but still gave them a view of the moonlight glinting across the water.
Unlike the tables inside, this one didn’t have candles because the scent always made Sloan’s nose itch. Instead, elegant lights hung from the ceiling, lighting up the area with a soft romantic glow that’d make even the nonromantic coo, or at least Sloan thought so.
The table itself was set up with a white silk cloth, a small jar of fragrant red roses in the center.
He peered around at Conall. “What do you think, pet?”
Conall shifted until he stood beside Sloan, soaking in his surroundings. He looked at the table, set up elegantly, to the three waiters lined up at the side of the room, ready to please them in any way possible. Then he smiled in a way that made Sloan’s stomach tighten. If he’d been a weaker man, he might have even popped wood because that’s just how sexy his pet was.
“I think I’m starving.” Conall threw him a smirk over his shoulder as he strode forward, dislodging their linked hands so he could collapse into the chair. “What kind of alcohol do they have?”
Sloan snorted with laughter. Conall wouldn’t be his pet if he showed appreciation so publicly. With a click of Sloan’s fingers, one of the waiters shot forward, offering Conall their range of alcohol in a menu. It didn’t shock Sloan when Conall chose whiskey—“The finest stuff you have.”
“And for you, sir?” The waiter stared at him from below black eyelashes, the curve of his lips almost sinful as he leaned closer than was necessary to get Sloan’s order. He touched Sloan’s arm, his fingers dancing over the suit sleeve.
Sloan didn’t miss the way Conall’s eyes narrowed, or how his jaw tightened, and Sloan enjoyed the reaction more than he expected. There was something thrilling about seeing the jealousy burn in his pet’s gaze. Had it been any of his former pets, he might have playfully flirted with the waiter, but Conall was someone special, with a stubborn streak, and he didn’t want to stupidly push his pet away.
Sloan brushed the waiter’s hand away from him. “This suit is expensive. Don’t touch it.”
The waiter drew back like he’d been burned. He bowed his head.
“I’ll have a bottle of Penfolds Grange—the usual one.”
The young man nodded and headed off, but not before Conall snatched his arm, dragging him to his height. He whispered something to the waiter, making his face pale. He quickly nodded at Conall then scampered off like a kicked dog.
“Pleasant conversation?” Sloan folded his arms and smirked.
Conall merely shrugged, but the twist of his lips told Sloan all that he needed to know. His pet was staking his claim.
“What’s a Penfold Grange?”
“Penfolds.” Sloan leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable, and took a moment to study his pet. The collar moved every time Conall swallowed, and it looked beautiful against his slim, pale neck. His casual, stylish clothes suited him more than a suit did, and Sloan made a note to send Conall out to buy more clothes like these ones. “It’s an expensive wine created with Shiraz grapes. They have a 2013 bottle here.”
“How much does that set you back?” Conall picked up his fork, twirling it between his fingers. But his stare stayed on Sloan, as though lapping up every word he had to say.
“About nine hundred.” Sloan shrugged. “Not the most expensive, but I like it.”
Conall laughed. “Are you trying to impress me with your money? First you show off your car collection, and then you take me here—” He dropped the fork to gesture around the patio “—and buy an expensive bottle of wine while we sit beside the Hudson River.”
Sloan raised an eyebrow. “Are you impressed, pet?”
Conall’s tongue swiped over his pink lips. “Maybe.”
“How impressed would you say you are?”
