“Roasted Orkney Scallops with Denhead Farm asparagus, miso hollandaise, and candied lemon.”
The servers gently place the tiny, edible works of art in front of each of us. Elana immediately pulls out her phone and starts snapping pictures. The restaurant is a beautiful mix of browns and blues to represent the earth and sea theme, with big, comfortable suede seats and a massive glass ceiling that shows the Glasgow night sky.
“This is amazing,” Marcus groans, mouth still full. “How many restaurants do you own?”
Lachlan shrugs. “Fifteen of my own, but the clan has over sixty all over Europe. We want to start branching out into Canada and the U.S. next.”
“Marcus could be very helpful with that,” I say after savoring the perfect mouthful of salty scallop, tangy miso, and the bite of lemon. “He was a marketing consultant for the Morrison restaurant chain in Canada before he moved here.”
“Aye?” Lachlan glances at Marcus. “Who are you working with here, then?”
“I’m freelancing,” Marcus explains, “I still consult for the Morrisons, but I’m phasing that out.”
“I’d love to talk to ya’ about Toronto and Montreal,” Lachlan nods. “Let’s set up a time this week.”
I hide my grin in my next bite of scallop. Marcus looks like Lachlan just proposed holy matrimony. He’s crushed on men I’ve dated before, but never one that threatened to murder him. Lachlan’s charm is just that lethal.
Watching my husband talk easily with Zed, relaxed and laughing at my brother’s story makes me pause. Who is this man? He forced his way into my life and even Marcus, who knows the whole story, likes him just as much as Zed and Elana.
Charming bastard,I think with a sigh.
After everyone’s gobbled down the chocolate cremeux with dulce de leche and pecans, the Maître d’ loads us up with boxes filled with all the desserts we didn’t order and Lachlan leads us out the VIP entrance, where two black SUVs are idling.
“I need to borrow my wife for a couple of hours,” he says, sliding his arm around my waist and gripping me tightly. “Gregor can take you home or out to a club if ya’ like.”
Marcus winks at me. “I’m totally invested in attacking these desserts like I’ve been on a fifteen-year diet. Which I have.”
“I’m with Marcus,” Elana agrees.
Zed sighs, ruffling his hair. “I have some calls to make. But if you two eat that raspberry tart without me, there will be retribution.”
Lachlan helps me into the next SUV as I eye him suspiciously. “What do you have planned? And stop eyeing me like a bear ready to maul a juicy salmon.”
The door slams shut behind him and his big, warm hand slides up my thigh. “You only made it to level six at the Inferno.”
“Wh- what?”
He leans closer, imbuing me with his spicy scent. “There’s so much more to show you. Are you my brave girl?” He sucks my earlobe into his mouth and I groan. The movement of his tongue against my skin sends a lightning bolt right down to the center of me.
“Just one more level tonight,” he whispers diabolically. “That’ll be all you can handle. But I promise, you will never come that hard again.”
This is not reassuring, but before I can say anything, his mouth is on mine and all logical thought is gone.
Chapter Eighteen
In which Aria explores the next level of Hell.
Lachlan…
“Are ya’ scared, baby?”
I made Aria walk down all the flights of stairs instead of taking the easy way via the lift. There’s something so powerful about leaving each level behind, descending into darker and darker floors. Her step picks up as we move through Level Six - Heresy but slows down again on the stone steps leading to Level Seven.
“No,” she scoffs, but the tell-tale quiver in her voice makes me painfully hard.
“What is level seven in Dante’s Inferno?” I take her hand, pulling her down the rest of the way.
“It’s-” she clears her throat. “It’s violence.”
