But for now, I’ll leave thoughts on the stalker to another time.
I’d survived war and attacks from criminals by following my instincts. But, around Zola, my gut had been off. Far away on vacation somewhere. And it was all because I’d been letting my sexual desire for her fog my head.
I won’t wait anymore. I’ve got to have more.
24
L’excellence
Zola
Hunter brought me to L’excellence—my favorite restaurant.
What? No way.
Shocked out of my mind, I looked at him as he opened the door for me. “How did you know?”
“It’s my job to know.” He took my hand, and together we entered.
“You’re good. I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“Three weeks to be exact.”
“How did you know that?”
“I had Stark do an assessment on you while I was showering. He analyzed all of your credit card bills and which restaurant you spent the most time at.”
“So…you had someone hack into my statements to discover my likes?”
“Too much preparation?”
“A smidgen.” I grinned. “But thank you so much. I really love L’excellence.”
He laughed. “Good. And lucky for you, French cuisine is my favorite.”
“No surprise. You’re that type of guy. You like the best.”
“French gastronomy has long been considered the pinnacle of culinary excellence in the West.”
“True. I’ve also found the best bakeries in a city tend to be French.”
“I don’t know about that. I think you’re too into the culture to think clearly.”
“Touché.”
Beautiful smells greeted us. The first thing people noticed at L’excellence was that there were no printed menus. Every dish was scrawled across chalkboards on the back wall, just as it was done in France. The typical selection featured everything from salted meats to fresh fish and scallops, to a tantalizing steak tartare, perfect with ultra-crusty bread.
The front part of the place had an even-toned balance of Art Nouveau and industrial design. There was exposed brick and concrete pillars right next to tables covered in French lace and crystal chandeliers dangling above. The narrow corridor at the back of the main dining room opened up to a massive, sophisticated room.
We walked inside the back dining area where all the décor shifted. The space was small and dark, lit only by candles in gold candelabras. Warm light reflected in gold-framed wall mirrors. Dark red stain coated the walls. The chairs and tables were plush white. In the far corner, a trio consisting of a piano, guitar, and saxophone played a relaxing groove, setting the mood for romance. Seduction dripped and throbbed in the air.
Shocked, no one sat inside. Only a few waiters stood by.
“I didn’t want anybody around.” Hunter squeezed my hand. “With others here, I would be too busy guarding you.”
“How did you empty out the whole restaurant?”
“There was a decent-sized price tag to go with my request.” He led me to the table and pulled out my chair.
“Thank you.” I sat down.
“I had the chef do a tasting menu of everything. I need to know why this is your favorite place to eat.”
“You’re in for a treat. Everything is excellent here.”
“It better be with that name.” He gestured to the sommelier.
The slim built man brought over a list of wines and walked us through our experience. We would have special pairings with each dish and pretty much eat like a king and queen. The first waiter arrived with a large plate of fresh, hot bread piled with caviar. Champagne appeared next on a plated wine-cooler beside their table. Hunter poured us two full glasses. Later, L’excellence’s signature pâté arrived with crisp French bread and thick squares of yellow butter.
Groaning, I feasted on the pâté. Everything melted in my mouth. “I needed this.”
“Good.”
Our dinner date began perfectly. Hunter kept filling our glasses. We ate like kings and chatted away. Hunter talked about how successful his security company had become.
“Did you ever give it a name?” I asked.
“No. I’ve found that no name has worked out for us nicely. At this point, if someone comes to us, then they’re highly connected.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you love modeling?” he asked.
“It pays well.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I sighed. “The job isn’t difficult. There’s things that come with it, but every job is like that—”
“Again…that’s not an answer, Zola.”
I took a sip of my champagne. “Okay. Fine. I’ve been having a ‘crisis of identity’ ever since the stalker has come around.”
“The stalker didn’t just do that. York has mentioned that you’ve seemed unhappy these past years.”
“I haven’t really been depressed.”
“But you’re not that social.”
“Because my job is super social. I need a break. I’ve always been happier sitting and reading a book while it’s raining outside. I was never the girl that wanted to run in the sun and rush out to the all-night party on the beach during the summer. And those things were fun too, but…I like chilling.”
“That’s fair.” He took my hand across the table. “I like chilling too.”