After an unnecessarily loud coffee catch-up with Lina, Petula, and Holly in my office while I’d stupidly attempted to take care of actual business, she’d finally settled in and gotten to work creating a priority list of services the library could continue to offer even without a physical location. We’d managed to work surprisingly well together in the shared space. Her energy was infectious, and I found myself tackling my own to-do list with more enthusiasm than usual.
“It better be some place with a drive-thru, because I only packed jeans and sweats,” she said, toeing off her sneakers and stripping her shirt off to reveal a sexy lace camisole that was working valiantly to contain her impressive breasts.
“What are you doing?” I demanded as my mouth went dry. The need to touch her was driving me mad.
“This is what actual humans do when they come home from work.”
I picked up the shirt she’d discarded and folded it. “They strip naked in their foyer?”
“They put on comfy clothes,” she instructed, eyeing my suit with what felt like judgment.
“I’m perfectly comfortable as I am. Besides, it would be a waste of time to change now when I’d just have to change back into a suit for dinner.”
She shook her head, which sent her hair dancing over her shoulder. “Sad. Just plain sad.”
I watched her disappear into the kitchen, wondering what was happening to my face. When I realized it was a smile, I shook it off, loosened my tie, and turned my attention to the mail on the foyer table.
Sloane reappeared, looking suspicious. “Why is there root beer and junk food in here?” She was holding a bottle of soda in one hand and an already open bag of potato chips in the other.
“I just told you we’re going to dinner, and you make yourself a snack?”
She crunched into a chip with enthusiasm. “Dinner’s a whole hour away. And what if the restaurant’s busy or we don’t order an appetizer? That’s serious hangry territory. I’m doing you a favor.”
She was insufferably adorable. Fucking beautiful. And excruciatingly untouchable. My nerves were fraying at an alarming rate now that I had her to myself.
The doorbell rang, and I sprang for it.
“Are you expecting someone?” Sloane asked warily.
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
She muttered something that sounded like “It better not be the astrophysicist.”
I was still smiling stupidly when I opened the door.
Grace, my head of security, strolled inside, pulling a dress rack behind her. “These just arrived. For the record, I’m a fan of the red,” she said.
Sloane looked at me and frowned. “I take it there’s no drive-thru?”
“No drive-thru. But my mother will be there.”
Her eyes widened. “Interesting. Grace, you have impeccable taste. Got any shoes on this magic rack of fashion?”
“If the food here is too snooty, you’re definitely taking me for a burger afterward,” Sloane said as I towed her through the restaurant. It was one of those fine dining venues with muted neutrals and small, artfully arranged portions of gourmet specialties.
More than a few sets of eyes followed us to our table, though I was certain the attention was equally divided between my scowling visage and Sloane, who looked like a breathtaking, curvy goddess in the red dress.
I didn’t like parading her out in public when there was still a threat at large, but it was the most efficient way to spread the word. Sloane Walton was under my protection.
To ensure her safety, I had a security team on-site and a second car parked in the alley. I was taking no chances.
I spied my mother already seated at the table, looking cool and lovely in an ivory cocktail dress.
“Mother,” I said when we arrived. I leaned down to kiss the cheek she offered. “You remember Sloane.”
“Hello, Mrs. Rollins,” Sloane said, offering up her best we-don’t-have-to-acknowledge-the-past smile.
For just a second, I caught a flicker of something on my mother’s face. Dismay? Shame? Embarrassment? But it disappeared just as quickly.
“How lovely to see you again,” she said, offering Sloane a careful smile.
I didn’t get the feeling she meant it. I couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t often she was invited to dinner with the woman who’d personally witnessed her violent attack and landed her husband in jail.
“Please, call me Kayla,” Mom said, recovering her social graces.
I pulled Sloane’s chair out for her and scanned the restaurant as she sat. It was the usual crowd of new and old money, each trying to subtly outdo the other. I suddenly wished we had gone for fast food.
“Sloane and I are seeing each other,” I said, taking my seat.
Mom’s eyes widened. Sloane choked on her water. Loudly.
“It’s serious,” I continued matter-of-factly as I patted Sloane on the back.
“Actually—” Sloane began, but my less-than-gentle grip on her shoulder gave her second thoughts.
“How wonderful,” Mom said, quickly recovering. “Lucian’s never brought a girlfriend to meet me before. And it seems I have a surprise of my own.” She nodded toward a man headed in our direction.
He moved like a shark in a too-shiny suit. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he sized up each table he passed. He carried extra weight around the middle, and his gray hair was distinguished but thinning. A pinkie ring adorned his left hand. I didn’t have to see it up close to know tasteful diamonds spelled out the initials AH.
Anthony Hugo sat down next to my mother with a look of triumph.
“We finally meet in person,” he said to me as he took my mother’s hand with a sense of ownership.
My hands balled into fists under the table.
“Lucian, this is my date, Anthony,” Mom announced breathily.
“Oh, shit,” Sloane murmured. She snatched up her butter knife.
My hand clamped down on her thigh.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Hugo,” I said.
Anthony Hugo, crime boss and bad dresser, was sitting across from me with his arm around my mother.
“Not as much as I’ve heard about you,” he said, showing too many teeth.
“Anthony and I met at a charity auction recently,” Mom said, blushing like a boy-crazy teenager. “He asked for my number, and it’s been a bit of a whirlwind ever since.”
“And who might this lady in red be?” Anthony asked, turning that mean, toothy smile on Sloane.
It was Sloane’s turn to clamp her hand on my leg, and it was the only thing that kept me from vaulting out of my chair and murdering Anthony Hugo with a lobster tail in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
“None of your business,” Lucian said.
My mother giggled awkwardly. “That’s Sloane. My son’s date. It seems they’re childhood sweethearts.”
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure yet,” Anthony said, letting his gaze linger on Sloane’s chest.
“And you never will,” she said sunnily.
My mother gave a dismayed gasp. “Lucian, your date is being horrendously rude.”
“And your date is a homicidal, drug-dealing criminal,” I shot back.
“Come now,” Anthony said. His tone was friendly, but he had the eyes of a sociopath. “We can all still be friends. We’re practically family. I think you know my son, don’t you, Lucian?”
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Mom said.
“Why don’t you and I go to the ladies’ room?” Sloane suggested, reaching for my mother.
I tightened my grip on Sloane to hold her in place. There was no way the biggest crime boss in the Washington/Baltimore areas came here alone.
“Nobody is making a fucking move,” Anthony said, dropping all vestiges of social niceties. “Not until Rollins and I have had a little talk.”
“Can I interest anyone in an appetizer?” The unlucky server chose the wrong break in conversation to return.
“I’ll tell you what. Don’t fuckin’ come back here unless you want to be pickin’ your fuckin’ teeth off the carpet,” Anthony snarled.
Mom gasped and cowered under his grip, a reaction so painfully familiar to both of us.
“There’s no need for violence,” I said, doing my best to sound bored despite the fact that Sloane and I had each other in a stranglehold beneath the table.
“Oh, but I think there is. You and your fuck buddy feds have had your fun. It’s time to put it to rest, or I’ll put everyone you care about in the ground. Starting with these two lovely ladies.”
“Fuck. You,” Sloane said, wielding the butter knife at him.