“They have,” Tobias said smoothly. “Sage is our mate. Now, you’ll have to forgive us. I’ve just seen Michael, and we need to say hello.”
Michael was a raffish-looking beta with wild hair and wilder eyes, even as he wore a very nice, slightly retro brown suit.
“Beau, mate…” He threw his hands wide and then approached us. “You made it! And you brought the whole crew.” He nodded to the rest of the pack before his smile widened when he caught sight of me. “Who’s this?”
“Sage.” I was drawn closer, my back pressed against Beau’s chest as his arms settled down across my body, holding me close. I twitched when I felt his lips graze against my neck for just a second before he continued, “Our mate.”
“You found her?” All of a sudden, that friendly smile became something else. Michael’s gaze seemed to sharpen exponentially as he looked me over with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
“Yeah, we have.”
It was the slightly vulnerable note in Beau’s voice that seemed to seal the deal for Michael. His smile seemed much softer this time, almost inviting.
“Well, come the fuck in! Stuff this line thing. We need a drink to celebrate!”
“Mike, mate, this is your opening—” Beau started to say.
“And you’ve found the one! Come in, come in.”
We were marched past the considerable line, people watching us with interest to see why we were being given the VIP treatment, and some seemed to get why. I noticed people turn to their companions and engage in some furtive conversations as we passed by, but before I could worry about that, we were escorted inside.
“We’re going to need about thirty minutes—” said a flustered-looking man in a severe black uniform as soon as we appeared.
“You got it. These are my very good friends. Beau was one of the major backers.” The man’s eyes fluttered a little at that, and so did mine. “I’m just treating them to a pre-drink before the scrum starts.”
“Of course,” the man said. “Joseph!”
He clicked his fingers to get the attention of a barman, who was working hard pouring out a series of cocktails that evidently were to be offered to patrons when they walked in the door. Michael drew us closer, taking a seat on one of the polished stools before turning to us.
“What can I get you?” As I perched myself up on my own seat, he waved a hand at the walls.
There were shelves upon shelves of bottles everywhere—so many, it had almost become part of the décor, including those directly behind the bar. With all of the dark wood shelving, brown walls, and handblown glass pendant mood lighting, it looked like a very expensive, exclusive, but modernised men’s club. I expected the guys to rattle off some swanky concoction and I’d just say ‘same,’ intending to nurse the drink if I wasn’t digging it, but the pack stayed standing, clustering in closer to me.
“Sage?” Beau prompted.
“Ahh…” I didn’t recognise any of the bottles behind the bar. “Rum and—”
“Please don’t say Coke. For the love of god, don’t say Coke,” Michael said with an intensity that had me almost flinching. “Joe, grab the bottle of 23rd Street rum and some ice for me, will ya?”
Joe moved arse doing just that, setting it down on the bar with six glasses and a bucket of ice before moving back to his prep work.
“Try this on the rocks.” I sucked in a breath, about to tell him I wasn’t going to be able to do that. We’d done shots of Bundy rum when I was a teenager and all power spewed into Nikki’s mum’s garden beds. It had killed off one of her favourite rose bushes. “Just give it a go.”
Michael used tongs to deposit two ice cubes in each glass, cracking the bottle’s seal with practised ease before taking a whiff. He let out a little happy noise before pouring out a nip into each glass, taking one for himself and then handing me the other.
“Take a whiff first,” he said as I raised the glass to my mouth. “Tell me what you smell?”
Not Bundaberg rum, that was for sure. Rather than the usual harsh blast, this was…
“Smooth,” I said, my brows wrinkling. “It smells like…caramel?”
“Sticky date pudding,” he prompted, and I nodded. That was totally it. It smelled rich, dark, and sweet, just like the dessert, luring me in closer. “Give the glass a little swirl and wrap your hand around it.” He went to show me how, but Beau shot him a freezing look. “It’ll warm the rum, help release some of the flavours. Then take a sip.”
I very cautiously did as he said, but when I’d been expected harsh, choking, cheap rum, I got something smooth with a fiery kick that came from behind. I still let out a little cough, my free hand shooting to my mouth to try and cover that.
“Takes a little getting used to, but you’ll get there,” Michael said with a grin, then pushed the bottle of rum towards the other guys. “I have to get out there and keep schmoozing people as they wait so they don’t scarper off to somewhere else, but…” He looked around his restaurant then, as if seeing it for the first time. “We did it, mate. We fucking did it. Like, I wouldn’t have been able to without your backing, but—”
“Bullshit.” Beau’s reply was sharp and stopped Michael mid babble, but he softened that with his brilliant smile. “You’re fucking brilliant, Mike. You know that.”