Page 75 of Positively Pricked
If he meant Claudette's, it was one of the very best restaurants in the whole city. But I'd always known it as a dinner place – not that I'd ever eaten there personally. For one thing, I couldn’t afford it. And for another, the place was notoriously hard to get into.
"Claudette's?" I said. "I didn't even realize they served breakfast."
"They don't," Zane said. "But they are this morning."
"Oh." I couldn’t imagine why, unless Zane had personally arranged it. "So they're opening just for you?"
"They will if they know what's good for them."
Was that a joke? Doubtful.
Before I could even think to ask, Zane flicked his head toward a side table and told me to drop everything but my computer – a sleek little tablet that I'd been assigned, along with a new cell phone, right after signing the employment paperwork.
More confused than ever, I set down my purse, along with the brown-bag lunch that I'd brought for later on, assuming that I'd be able to eat at all.
And then, we were off.
In the elevator on the way down, Zane – without bothering to look at me – gave me a quick rundown on who we were meeting with. Apparently, it was with the owner of a shipping company who handled most of the international transports for the Bennington Hotels.
Zane said they had several issues they needed to resolve and mentioned that the guy had been a problem.
I gave Zane a sideways glance. Speaking of guys who'd been a problem.
But that wasn't the thing that was bothering me now. At the moment, I was terrified of screwing up, especially because I didn't really know what was expected of me. After all, Zane had mentioned nothing about media involvement, press releases, or anything related to my actual job description.
Reluctantly, I turned to look at him. "I've got a question."
He kept his gaze straight ahead. "What?"
"Is there anything specific you'd like me to do at this meeting?"
"Yeah." A ghost of a smile crossed his features. "Keep him from hitting me."
The smile – if that's what it truly was – caught me off-guard. "Seriously?"
And just like that, the smile was gone. "No."
"Oh, so that was a joke?" A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "So he'snotgoing to hit you?"
But Zane wasn't laughing. "He can try."
"Wait, so youweren'tkidding?" I felt myself swallow. "Am Ireallysupposed to keep him from—"
"No."
"No?"
"If it's heading that way," Zane said, "you stay out of it."
Well, that was a relief.
Sort of.
But it told me nothing about why I was attending the meeting in the first place.
Searching for clues, I asked, "Will anyone from the media be there?"
"Not if they know what's good for them."
