His smile grows exponentially larger. “Darling, I am utterly charmed by your belief in my acting skills.”
That wasn’t a yes.
It also wasn’t a no.
We’re halfway down now.
I lift the champagne bottle and take a gulp of it myself.
Maybe if I’m buzzed, falling the rest of the way down the stairs will hurt less.
“You haven’t answered my question about what you’re serving me for dinner,” he says pleasantly.
We’re on full display for half the people dining on the main floor, plus two couples peering around the hostess stand.
Oh god.
Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
Therethey are.
Mr. and Mrs. Camille.
Jake’s parents.
And—fuck me.
Logan. Logan and a date.
Watching Simon carry me down the stairs of Jake’s restaurant.
I think this is good.
Or possibly bad.
Maybe both.
Simon sways on the steps as he looks at me, waiting for an answer.
“Secret menu,” I blurt.
“Oh, Ms. Best, I amintrigued. Your last secret menu item was—hic!—remarkable.”
Two more steps.
We’re almost there.
He pauses and lurches to one side.
Tank growls and grabs his shoulders again.
“Don’t worry,” Simon says to me. “He won’t quit. The studio pays him too well. Mostly because of my boys, but, alas, also because of me. Tank. Please pay the hostess for our meal. I won’thave anyone saying we didn’t behave honorably in this sordid affair tonight. Charge it to the company card.”
Oh my god.
I think I’ve found a real-life hero.
