Page 8 of Torrid Passion
CHAPTER 3
Lochlan
Had it not been for my plans with Chelsea, I’d still be chained to my iMac Pro, slaving away until God knows what time. We’re supposed to meet at eight. I got here early, but she’s late.
I decided we’d meet at the Quintus Hotel. It’s one of my favorite stomping grounds. I know the owner well and it’s far enough from where I live to keep a good distance between my private and my sex life. Chelsea didn’t come across as the clingy type, but you never know.
I sip the last of my drink, drop the glass on the counter and check my phone again. She hasn’t replied to my last text message and she’s twenty minutes late.
Where are you, Chelsea?
“Your companion hasn’t arrived yet, Mr. Berkshire?” the bartender asks.
Notice how he didn’t say date.
“How did you know I was waiting for someone?”
“You tend to prefer the whiskey bar,” Neal smiles.
“Observant.”
The impeccable service is another reason why I keep coming back here. Even though I’m waiting for Chelsea at Flûte––the hotel’s champagne bar––Neal was kind enough to fetch me a martini at one of the restaurant’s bars. Don’t get me wrong, I love champagne, but I needed something stronger to cut the edge. It’s been a long day.
“You’re a regular and one of our best clients. I get paid to make sure I know what you like.”
Neal Ludgate is an Australian who came to LA six years ago. He’s excellent at what he does and takes pride in his work. Contrary to many people working in the restaurant industry in the city, he has no aspirations to become an actor.
“Yeah, she’s late and hasn’t been in touch. I’ll give her a few more minutes, then I might head over to the restaurant for a bite to eat since I have the reservation.”
“Why don’t I push it back to nine?” Neal suggests.
“Good idea,” I nod. “I appreciate it.”
The words barely leave my mouth and Neal is already punching on the iPad.
“In the meantime, should I get you another martini, Mr. Berkshire?” he asks when he’s done.
I look down at my empty glass before meeting his gaze. “Not yet, Neal. Thanks.”
“Flag me when you’re ready for another one.”
“I will.”
My eyes shift down to my screen when I see a message appear.
Chelsea. Finally.
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Sorry, I can’t make it.
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Are you okay?
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Oh, I am.
