"You took me to his restaurant when I turned fourteen. Yum, and yum."
I wisely don't ask what she means by that.
But dinner. Here.
It's a good plan.
I pull out my phone and make a call.
My bedroom is to one side of the terrace. But since I bring guests up here, if I have guests, there's a sitting room off it, the idea being to go out through that room for more intimate drinks and then into the bedroom. The perfect seduction.
That was how I designed it.
But I don't tell Lola that.
I don't tell her anything because I'm in the hall, and Lyndall's just brought her to me.
She's got her own meal coming her way, and she's going to go down to the kitchen to annoy François.
But he brought two of his best waitstaff.
The reason I can't talk, though, is Lola.
She's a fucking vision.
Her hair is pinned, and the lilac dress is pale and sensual without being overtly sexual. Tendrils of her hair whisper against her neck, and my tongue is stuck to the top of my mouth.
Christ.
Fuck.
"Later," Lyndall says, scampering off.
Lola gives me a wary look.
"You look stunning. I'm sorry about the gifts yesterday."
She sniffs and can't settle her gaze anywhere. "You don't need to be nice to butter me up."
"Me?" I laugh. "That particular brand of so-called charm isn't something I practice."
She grips her hands.
I think about what I just said and realize how that sounds.
"What I mean is I'm not that kind of slick guy. I can hand out all kinds of empty platitudes, but I really don't." Fuck. I'm screwing this up. "I meant it. You look stunning. I... I don't want to screw this up, Lola, I really don't. So, I just told you the truth. And my sister pointed out the stupidity of the gifts."
Pink rushes to her cheeks. "They weren't that bad. They were nice, just..."
"Obvious?"
She half nods. "Just a little jittery, you know? I'm sorry I overreacted."
I nod because, yeah, I think I get it.
She wanted to know if there was an ulterior motive.
I guess there both was and wasn't. But I did want to sweep the past away with flashy gifts.
