“Any allergies or culinary hatreds?”
“I have beef with olives. Other than that, no. I do not respect picky eaters unless they are children, and even then, it’s likegrow up, you know?”
Wes’s lips curved. “Perfect. Your position, although severe, is helpful for my executive capacities.”
I snorted.
When the waiter returned, Wes ordered for us as if it were the easiest thing in the world, listing off several small plates and an entrée we would share.
Why had that turned me on? My brain was a frightening place.
“Did you bring your completed assignment?” Wes asked.
His previous humor melded effortlessly into a cool mask of authority that made my spine straighten an inch. His head tilted slightly as he assessed me likeIwas his next meal.
I glanced around the restaurant. Never in my life had I given a fuck what random people in this city heard me say. Until now, apparently.
“Yes,” I said softly. I glanced at my bag, where I’d recorded notes analogue style for the first time in ages.
“Relax,” Wes said in a commanding, even tone. “We’re not going over it now.” He leaned forward, reaching for my hand.
He made my hand look small in his broad palm. There was something aesthetically pleasing about my bare skin against his tattooed flesh, something aesthetically pleasing about every inch of Wes in general.
In an instant, Wes had transformed into something I feared, something I yearned for and lusted after more than anything. With his intense, authoritative gaze on me, the confusion and dissatisfaction with my life and my career and my purpose in this world slipped away. I was already exactly what I needed to be, a reflection of the certainty in Wes’s firm grasp.
His next words were spoken low, firm, for only me to hear. “I want you to?—”
The spell shattered as a voice loudly interrupted him.
“Look who we’ve found.”
31
NOVA
Wes and I exchanged a confused look before turning our attention to the source of the voice.
Archer, hand in hand with Jayne. And several others behind them, crowding the cramped space.
“Apologies for the interruption,” Jayne said. She rubbed her heart, as if astonished. “What a strange serendipity that our paths have intertwined this evening. The Universe’s algorithm strikes again… Were we not just talking about this? When we’re on the right path, the world is animated by such profound magic and synchronicities.”
A few of the others responded with awestruck faces, as if Jayne were the messiah herself.
“Please join us,” Archer said. “We have a private room upstairs.”
Jayne placed a hand on Archer’s shoulder. “Babe, they’re?—”
Before Jayne could save us, Archer was giving orders to the waitress, who’d been assessing why the hell this group of people was blocking restaurant flow.
Wes’s Dom energy hadn’t relaxed an inch; now, it was muddled with ripe irritation as he unabashedly glared at Archer.
Jayne appeared slightly startled, which was perhaps the first time I’d seen such an emotion written on her beautiful features. She watched Archer bulldoze the situation with her brows drawn in a silent question.
But as soon as she met my eyes, she wiped the expression from her face and became her easy, spiritually-attuned self again. After all, she wouldn’t want us to catch her in hermasculineenergy.
“The more the merrier,” she said. “It’s going to be a lovely night, and we’ve been wanting to catch up with the two of you.”
Archer stared at us, unflinching. My conscientiousness was being pushed to its absolute limit, watching in horror as servers and patrons waited on either side of The Circle’s inconvenient blockage.
