Page 17 of The Billionaire Submissive
“Good evening, sir,” the maitre d’ welcomed him. “How can we help you this evening?”
“Your best table in the house please.”
The maitre d’ looked like he was going to burst into tears. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but our best table has already been reserved for the entire evening.”
Actually, Lilly had the table reserved every single Friday evening since Dmitri’s opened, and it wasn’t unusual for her to come in at least once midweek. Okay, maybe two or even three times. When faced with her own mediocre cooking, it was much more tempting to stop by her old friend’s for a delicious reprieve.
Mr. Morgan radiated displeasure, though he didn’t outright scowl. Luckily he didn’t attack the poor man, either, which raised him in both hers and Dmitri’s eyes. Neither one of them had much patience or respect for people who treated those lower than them like trash. “That’s…disappointing. I want this evening to be especially nice. I’m meeting a lady here and everything must be perfect.”
“We have several beautiful tables, sir, and I assure you everything will be perfect for your lady. Perhaps she’s already here? Might I have her name?”
She squeezed Dmitri’s arm and led him into the foyer. “I’m here, Mr. Morgan.”
He turned toward her, a smile beginning to curve his lips. She watched his gaze slide down her body to land on the shoes he’d asked her to wear and his eyes blazed with heat. Inch by inch, he worked his way back up. His face transformed from determined politeness to appreciation to heat to downright hunger. But then he noticed the man with her, and the reserved business mask slipped back into place.
“Miss Harrison, you’re early,” he chided, even while taking her hand and bowing over it to kiss her knuckles. One of the waitresses pretended to swoon. “I wanted to make all the arrangements for you.”
“All the arrangements have already been made, Mr. Morgan. This is the owner, Dmitri Graeme, and my very good friend. Dmitri, this is Donovan Morgan.”
The two men politely shook hands, but Donovan still held himself tightly in control. Jealousy? She couldn’t be sure. He didn’t glare at the other man or even threaten him.
“This way, Mr. Morgan, Miss Harrison.” Dmitri led them to her table and held out the chair for her. Donovan’s face tightened slightly but he seated himself without comment and allowed her friend to push her chair in. “I’ll be serving you personally tonight. If you’d like a different wine, Mr. Morgan, just let me know.”
The wine she’d picked out waited in a chilled bucket, the cork already removed. While Dmitri disappeared into the kitchen, she poured the crisp, sweet moscato into their glasses. “I eat here a lot, so Dmitri already has everything set up for me when I arrive.”
Their table was in a secluded corner near a large fireplace, with a bay window showing off the restaurant’s private garden terrace. Fairy lights hung from the trees and bushes outside. No fire burned in the hearth, not in July, but Dmitri kept an attractive fresh flower arrangement inside the stone. The rest of the restaurant was open and bright, but here, she could sit in the dimmed light and people watch to her heart’s desire.
Donovan took the glass but didn’t drink yet. Watching him, she tried to pinpoint his unease. Because he was uneasy, his fingers restless on the glass. His shoulders were tense beneath the expensive black material. “Dmitri’s very happily married with four kids of his own.”
Donovan’s lips curled but it was more sneer than smile. “Good for him.”
Not jealousy, then. At least not because of the other man. “If you don’t like moscato…”
He deliberately took a large drink of the wine and set his glass down a little too firmly on the table. “It’s fine.”
“I typically start with something light, but I prefer something a bit meatier with my dinner.”
He nodded, obviously trying to make an effort. He looked about the restaurant and fiddled with his salad fork. “I’ve never heard of this place before.”
“It’s the best kept secret in the Twin Cities.”
He gathered all the silverware up and rearranged it. He took another big gulp of wine without even tasting it. Then he started to put all the silverware back into its proper place.
Lilly dropped her hand on his, stilling his restless fingers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She lowered her voice but kept it whip-strong. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Donovan Morgan.”
Startled, he jerked his head up and met her gaze, his eyes wide with surprise but dilated. He liked the firmer side of her voice, even if she didn’t use it very often. “You broughtthemhere. I recognize the restaurant from the pictures.”
She nodded. “I did. As I said, Dmitri’s my friend and I eat here a lot. I’d starve to death if it wasn’t for him.”
A smile hovered on Donovan’s lips and the tension slowly leaked from his shoulders. “You don’t cook?”
“Hardly. I mean, I can nuke something or scramble eggs. Sometimes I can make toast without burning it beyond recognition. I guess I probably wouldn’t starve on my own, but what he makes here is worlds better than anything I can do. Besides, it’s boring to eat alone. I’d rather come here and watch people.” Her explanation took some of the edge off him, but she thought he might appreciate the next part even more. “I have an ulterior motive for bringing new clients here. It’s standard operating safety procedures. I have my car in the employee parking out back. Dmitri’s a great judge of character, and if either of us gets a bad vibe, I head out the back door and make my escape.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t let me pick you up.” Donovan’s eyebrows arched and he turned his hand over to thread his fingers through hers. “Does it happen very often?”
