Page 81 of Breakneck
“Good evening. I believe we have a reservation.”
The concierge bowed his head. “Mr. Olivier is already here, sir. Allow me to accompany you.”
We followed him through the dimly lit room, meandering among private booths shielded by strategically placed greenery.
“We have reserved places at the bar for Mr. Olivier’ssecurity detail,” the concierge told Terrance. “You’re most welcome to join them, sir.”
“I need to be able to see my client and his immediate surroundings,” Terry said.
“Of course, sir. Mr. Olivier stipulated the same condition. We have chosen a table for you accordingly. It’s less private but allows you to intercept anyone who might approach Mr. Olivier and Mr. Courtemanche during their dinner.”
We rounded another corner, and the space opened. The concierge gestured to a table where a slim omega sat with his back to us. Terry nodded at me and walked off to the bar, situated only a few steps to the left.
“Good evening, Paris. I apologize for being late.”
To my surprise, Paris stood to greet me. He offered me his slender hand. “Hello, Lothair. You’re not. I was early.”
I saw him glance toward the bar and followed his gaze. Terry greeted an enormous, barrel-chested alpha whom I vaguely recognized. Had he been at Paris’s side the last time we met? Probably. He was built like a tank. They settled on high barstools, facing the room.
“Your guy?”
Paris smiled wanly. “Yes.”
Terry leaned with his elbow on the bar, glancing at me and then gazing somewhere behind me. He looked so handsome in his preppy jacket, white collar, and icy-blue tie, which matched the color of his eyes.
Our server appeared, and Paris ordered a bottle of champagne. We both scanned the menu. There were no prices, but I was getting used to that.
Paris began talking about Caspian and an upcoming project of his, and I smiled and nodded in the right places. He was clever and, frankly, the most beautiful omega I’dever met, but more often than not, my gaze strayed to Terry.
He and Paris’s giant drank what looked like soda water with lemon. They didn’t talk. Terry briefly checked something on his phone and gave me an infinitesimal smile when our gazes met for a split second.
“I’m relieved,” Paris said loudly.
I blinked, refocusing on his impeccable features.
“Sorry. You were saying?”
“I said I was relieved. I’d expected you to proposition me or at least flirt with me by this point.”
Paris was still eating his first course, somehow managing to cut the tiny portion into microscopic pieces.
I eyed my empty plate. What was the right answer here? “I…thought this was a business transaction. You are by far the most attractive omega I’ve ever spoken to, but I didn’t get the impression that sexual advances would be welcome. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”
He set his fork aside and dabbed his lips with his napkin. “Your attention has been more on your bodyguard waiting by the bar than on me. You’ve been ignoring me so consistently; I find it refreshing.”
I jerked back in my seat. I’d fucked up, hadn’t I? Tonight was an opportunity, the most important networking moment of my life. Instead of giving Paris my undivided attention, I’d been ogling Terry’s thighs in those slacks.
Grovel, dude. Grovel hard.
“I’m so sorry, Paris. I’ve been terrible company tonight. I have no excuse for my behavior except that my confidence might have been rattled more than I’d admitted even to myself. Please accept my sincere apology.”
Paris’s expression remained neutral. He didn’t lookannoyed with me.Yet. “The accident must have been traumatic. Your bodyguard was there, I believe.”
“He was following me in his car when I was attacked.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet. Could have been an overeager fan. The police are handling it, so I’m trying not to dwell on it.”
