Page 25 of Pride
“Hey.” She tapped on the glass. “This century.”
All she got was a slight turn of his head, the gift of his flawless profile.Oh,for Heaven’s sake.She turned on the stereo and flicked through the available channels, deciding at the last minute to sync her own music playlist from her phone. She’d done it plenty of times when she’d run an errand as his assistant and he’d trusted her with his car. He made no comment when he sat back in the driver’s side and put the car into gear. But when Nina Simone’s voice came on, Alice was sure she noticed him relax… just as she was.
He drove them straight back to his apartment building—Lazarus House. They parked in the basement garage and, for a moment, she thought maybe he would take her backstage to where she guessed all the Deadly Seven magic happened, but he only led her out the garage exit and onto the street.
From his stiff, brusque strides, she was starting to wonder what she’d done to piss him off. First, he’d been all Mr. McBrooding on the drive, and now this. It must be her outfit. He saw something he didn’t like when he’d assessed her. Could he somehow sense the weapons she’d brought? Had his new senses caught the metal? Maybe he was offended that she didn’t trust him.
Too bad. Trust went both ways, and neither of them was there yet.
She kept pace with him, her heels clicking on the pavement until they came to the entrance of Heaven, the restaurant next door to the nightclub Hell—both owned by the man himself. He opened the door for her. She didn’t move.
“I said no dinner,” she reminded him. Plus, having him at her rear when she entered a new venue wasn’t a viable option.
His knuckles whitened on the doorknob and he stared at her, eyes flickering gold like they had that first night in his office.
“Then don’t eat,” he grumbled. “But we go inside.”
Those were his first words to her all night?
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. This was for an alliance and to stop bloodshed. To save lives. To put the past behind them. What was coming was bigger than everyone. It would make the Syndicate look like child’s play.
Alice took five steps inside the restaurant only to stop, stunned. It was empty. She let her gaze roam over the room. Tables and chairs sat dormant and cold. There was a stage in the middle with a grand piano, also vacant. Surrounding the stage were booths. The lights were on in the open-plan kitchen toward the back. Someone moved about in there, but she couldn’t see clearly. She turned in time to see Parker locking the front door.
“What’s going on?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He pocketed the keys. “I want privacy for tonight.”
“So you closed the restaurant? That’s going to cost you thousands in revenue.” This was a popular, critically acclaimed foodie spot.
“You’re more important.”
His words eased into Alice, causing an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Her scowl returned, and she realized she was just as moody as Parker. Neither of them liked capitulating. This would be an interesting night.
He gestured further into the restaurant, toward the kitchen, but when they started walking and he veered to the right, she found themselves at a private dining room. The long table was set for two at the close end but could fit perhaps fifteen to twenty. Parker went straight for the champagne sitting on ice, used the power of a single thumb to pop the cork, and then poured two glasses. He handed one to her and then clinked his glass to hers before downing his drink in one gulp. All the while, she stood still, cautious.
While he poured another, Alice used the opportunity to scope out the room. One exit—the door they’d come in. Expensive china, crystal glasses, cutlery and large cloth napkins rolled and placed to the side. Two menus.
“Please.” Parker pulled her seat out.
She sat and put her untouched champagne down. Parker made a grunt of approval before sitting himself and studying his menu.
“So,” she started, but he held up a finger, silencing her.
“We should order. The chef won’t like to be kept waiting.”
Alice’s hands clenched into fists. This was a clear power play. He wanted to remain in control. She got that. She’d said no food and now he was going to do everything in his power to ensure she ate.
The chef walked in.
Wyatt Lazarus was Wrath wrapped in a tall, dark and brooding package. He was also a Michelin starred chef. One she’d thought had retired in favor of parenting and undoubtedly vigilantism. Dressed in an all-black chef’s uniform and skull cap, he gave her a tight smile and then glowered at his brother. “You going to introduce us, or what?”
“I’m Alice,” she said so Parker didn’t have to. “We’ve actually met.” Multiple times.
He gave her a skeptical look. “Buthavewe?”
She swallowed under his intensity. “I suppose not. You met the assistant. I’m the… um… assassin. Nun. Whatever.”
“That’s the lot of you then?” He folded his arms. “No other personalities hiding under the table?”
