“That table,” I repeated.
We waited in the foyer. I impatiently checked my watch while Karen made acerbic comments about the townspeople at the debate.
“…And there was one man who called and asked me about alligators in the sewer. Honestly, Hunter. I hope when you’re mayor, you’ll bring some culture to those rednecks.”
“They’re good people,” I said.
What was the maître d’ doing? I was going to miss my window. We had to be in place by six forty-five for my plan to work.
“Your table is ready,” the maître d’ said, returning.
Finally.
“Are you sure you want to sit here?” Karen asked, wrinkling her nose when the maître d’ led us to the table. “It’s so out in the open. Can’t we sit in one of the private rooms?”
“No,” I barked.
“I don’t want to sit with the riffraff.”
“It’s Manhattan. You take whatever table you can get,” I said, pulling out her chair. I made it into my seat, leaning back slightly and sipping my drink, two minutes before showtime.
The table had the perfect view through the restaurant. People walked to their seats like they were on a catwalk. At five ’til seven, Walter Holbrook guided Meg through the restaurant. She was wearing a dress I had bought for her on one of my inconclusive attempts to try to win her back. She had told me she had sold it. But she hadn’t, I was happy to see. It looked just as good on her as I’d known it would. The dress scooped down the back and the front, a gold chain the only thing keeping it from completely sliding off. I’d had visions of her with it on, nothing underneath. I would pull the chain, ripping the fabric… Now Walter had his hand too fucking low on the small of her back.
What if he’s the one ripping it off of her…I released my grip on my scotch glass. I needed to be cool and in control to deal with Walter.
It took Meg a moment to see me, but when she did, oh, she was furious!
“Hunter?” she hissed at me. “Are you fucking stalking me?”
I raised an eyebrow and slowly took a sip of my scotch. “Funny, Deputy Mayor, I was about to ask you the same thing. I was here first, after all.”
The flush of anger that had started at her neck had traveled down her chest. I wanted to run my hands along her skin.
Focus.
“I’m just here on a date,” I explained to Meg. She whirled around. Karen gave her a smug little finger wave.
“This is the hot place to eat in Manhattan, I’m told,” I continued. “Obviously, I don’t live here, so I was just going off of recommendations.”
“You… you… you always do this!” Meg cried then lowered her voice when she realized people were watching. “You try to ruin my life. You ruin any shot at happiness I have.”
“He’s not here for you,” Karen said snidely. “Get over yourself, Meghan. Hunter would never want anyone like you. I mean look at you. That dress is a size too small, and your hair is a mess. No wonder you couldn’t hack it in New York City. Hunter wants an equal,” Karen insisted. “He wants someone who will make him look good. Not a fried-food-addicted harpy.”
Walter put his hand back on Meg’s waist.
Karen was wrong. Meg looked fuckable and fucking hot in that dress. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. I could make out the outline of her nipple…
“Don’t worry about him, Meghan,” Walter practically purred, his thumb rubbing little circles right where her leg met her hip.
I’m the only man who puts his hand there.I forced myself not to stab him with a fork.
“I have a private room reserved just for us. Enjoy your meal,” Walter said to us before leading Meg away.
“Honestly,” Karen said, “the nerve of some people. As if you care what she and Walter are doing. You’re a big important billionaire, and she’s some washed-up thirtysomething making a fool of herself going after an older man.”
Karen was wrong, though. I did care a great deal about Meghan and Walter, which was why I had chosen this table. The door to the private dining room opened as the maître d’ came back out. Meg was seated on the left side of the table. I knew from experience that Walter preferred to see who was coming in the door before they saw him. It was a weird intimidation thing he liked to do. That meant Meg was seated on the side, which, whenever the door opened, gave me a full view of her. And she had a view of me. I caught a glimpse of her annoyed face before the door shut.
“And have you decided what you want to eat?” the server asked.
