Page 13 of Tempting All The Way

“What are you planning to study at university next year?”

“I… it doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have asked. Answer the question, Shardonnay.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a lawyer?Answer the question, Shardonnay.” She deepens her voice in what I’m assuming is an attempt to mock my own.

“Once or twice. And you still haven’t answered it.”

“Okay, I’m going to study science.”

“Science?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes, chemistry, to be precise.”

“And what do you intend to do with a chemistry degree?”

“Make meth,” she sasses.

“Well, when you get caught, I know a pretty good defence attorney.” Retrieving a card from my pocket, I pass it over to her. “You should keep this on hand.”

“Yeah, unless I’m making it big time in this potential meth lab, I’d be the jailbird seeking legal aid, not a lawyer charging over a grand an hour.”

“For you, I’d do the job pro bono.” I smirk.

Chapter Seven

If you told me last week that I’d be at a fancy lunch with a fancy-looking drug dealer, I never would have believed you.

My palms are sweating as I follow Xavier through the restaurant. We get to the table and a young guy in what I’m assuming is a really expensive suit stands to greet us. I watch as he shakes hands with Xavier. Surely this cannot be our client? This guy looks way too put together.

“Benjamin, this is my assistant—Miss Mitchell,” Xavier introduces me to the man who I now know for sure is a drug dealer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mitchell,” Ben says smoothly as he grasps my open palm.

“Likewise.” I keep my voice even as I slide my hand out of his.

Xavier pulls my chair out for me. I take my seat and my eyebrows draw down in confusion as I stare at the three different versions of cutlery set out before me.

Xavier sits in the chair next to me, while Benjamin lowers himself back down directly opposite my scowling boss—which I’m thankful for because I’m already an anxious mess. I do not need the undivided attention of Australia’s version of Pablo Escobar. My knee bounces up and down from nerves. Nerves at being so close to Xavier. Nerves at not knowing what cutlery I’m meant to use.

“Good afternoon, Mr Christianson. It’s good to have you back, sir. Can I start with your drink orders?” a waitress with way too much makeup painted on her face asks, while batting her eyes and biting into her lower lip at the same time.

“I’ll have a Macallan on the rocks,” Xavier answers her, then turns to me. “Chardonnay?” he asks with a smirk.

“I’ll just have water. Thank you.” I shake my head, ignoring his dig at my name.

“I’ll have a glass of the Michter’s 25. Keep ‘em coming too, love. I have a feeling I’m going to need them.” Ben smiles at the waitress.

“Sure thing.” She struts off—yes, struts. Shakes her ass. I notice how Benjamin watches her disappear, whereas Xavier doesn’t spare a glance in the girl’s direction.

I try to busy myself by looking at the single sheet menu in front of me. There are no prices, meaning this is clearly notan “in my budget” type of place. Which I already knew before coming here, seeing as I booked it for them.

What was I thinking? I should have outright refused to come. At least getting fired would be more cost-effective than adding whatever this bill will be to my almost maxed-out credit card.

Damn it, how do I get out of this one?

“The sirloin here is really good,” Xavier says to me, pointing to where it’s listed on the menu.

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