“That’s the one,” I agree. “I want to see them, but—”
“I’ve got you covered, Mr. Cirillo,” he says confidently before looking down at the tablet in his hands and tapping away for a few seconds. “Please follow me. A glass of our best whisky is already on its way to your table.”
My only response is to nod, not that he sees it, as I follow him inside, my eyes scanning the restaurant. With all the dividers and thoughtfully placed plants to allow guests privacy as they enjoy their insanely priced meals, it’s hard to see much, but as Raoul leads me to a secluded table, another appears before me through a tall, spiky potted designer plant.
“How is this for you, sir?” he asks politely as another member of staff lowers a crystal glass to the table filled with a generous measure of the whisky I was promised.
“Couldn’t be better, Raoul,” I state, keeping my expression neutral as I pass him a fifty for his trouble.
I know an ally when I see one, and I fully intend on keeping as many as I can.
“Will you be eating with us tonight, sir?” He offers me the menu, and after a couple of awkward seconds while I study Brianna through the plant, he finally places it on the table.
“The steak tonight is especially exquisite, sir.”
“I’ll have that then, please,” I say, still refusing to avert my eyes.
“Fantastic. Rare?”
“You’ve got it.”
He melts away from my table, leaving me to slouch low in my seat, slide my glass from the table and take a sip.
An appreciative moan rumbles in my throat as nostalgia of better times slams into me like a truck.
This whisky was Dad’s favourite.
Pain slices through me, threatening to rip my heart out from inside my chest right here, and it’s only made worse when Brad the bellend reaches out and tucks a lock of Brianna’s hair behind her ear as she sips on a glass of champagne.
It hurts to suck in a breath as she smiles back at him, her eyes soft and full of want.
My jaw tics with irritation and I throw back the whisky, fighting the grief and darkness that threatens to consume me from the taste alone.
Their starters come and go while I’m lost, just staring at her like a fucking creep. But eventually, Brad excuses himself from their table and leaves her alone.
The second he’s gone, Brianna reaches for her handbag and pulls her phone out.
And I do exactly the same, more than ready to start messing with her.
After selecting a small snapshot I had pulled from the CCTV in the library, I upload it to our chat and hit send before I lower my phone to the table to watch her reaction.
I know the second the notification pops up on her screen, because her eyes widen and her jaw pops with frustration.
I can’t help but smirk, watching as my name alone affects her.
You’re so fucked, Siren. Probably more than I am, because I’m the one in control here.
The second she opens the message and finds the video, her chin drops in shock and she lowers her phone beneath the table. Filthy little whore that she is though, she doesn’t close it. Instead, she watches as I lick and suck her nipples and thrust my fingers into her tight pussy while she writhes around on the table in our little private room.
Her hand lifts and she bites down on her finger as she continues watching.
I. Am. Hard. As. Fuck.
Movement in my periphery makes me rips my eyes from my siren, and a smirk covers my face as her dickhead date returns to his seat. She startles, and I’m pretty sure an actual shriek passes her lips when he lays a hand on her shoulder.
The second reality hits her, she stuffs her phone under the table so the bellend can’t see it, and after dropping a kiss to her cheek that makes me want to rip his lips clean from his face, he lowers his arse back to his chair.
Not two seconds later, their mains arrive, quickly followed by mine.