Page 130 of Fiery Romance

“We’re not gonna do that.” Byron frowns in agitation. “What the hell is going on, man? Why did everyone leave? Who are those scary guys blocking the door? This is a free country! You can’t hold people hostage like this.”

“Sir…” The waiter turns pale. “That’s not it.”

“I’m calling the cops,” Byron insists.

I nod. Maybe a night in jail will remind Clay that he’s not the king of the city.

“Sir, this is not… no one’s being taken hostage. Tonight is a special event. You two were specially chosen…”

Byron keeps dialing.

“Your drinks and meal are on the house,” the waiter blurts.

Byron freezes. “Free, you said?”

The waiter nods.

“Well, I guess we can stick around.”

I whirl around, my eyes wide. “What?”

“This place is kinda pricey,” Byron whispers. “I’m not going to turn down a free meal. Are you?”

I will if it comes from Clay.

“Unless there’s another reason we can’t stay?” Byron asks me.

I swallow hard. I’m not going to tell him that the man who kissed the living daylights out of me a few weeks ago is probably trying to make a point.

Tonight is not about Clay.

It’s about me.

And if Byron is still down for this date, then what better way to show Clay he has no control over me than to have a nice time despite his efforts?

I paste a smile on my face. “No, no reason.”

I sit back down.

“This is crazy, right?” Byron asks, clearly getting excited. He scoots his chair closer to the table.

“Yeah. This is great,” I mutter with… a lot less enthusiasm.

Tipping back my wine glass, I drain all of it. Then I reach for his drink and devour that too.

It’s not until I’m at the last of the wine in Byron’s cup that I realize something’s wrong.

This isn’t the wine he ordered. He chose a cheap chardonnay, something that I didn’t resent him for because a man who watches his pockets is smart.

But this wine…

I purse my lips and drink it more slowly, tasting the hints of spice that would never be available in commercial offerings.

Byron chuckles at my thinking face. “Want a refill?”

I blink rapidly.

He waves at the waiter and points to the glass. When the server leaves to get the bottle, Byron takes my hand.

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