Sinful Pleasures

They all headed back outside, and when Penelope and Tempest got into their individual cars and drove off, she figured she and Hunter would do the same. Except he hadn’t yet unlocked his car for her to get inside. Instead, he met her gaze and smiled.

“I’m pretty familiar with this area, and there’s a fantastic Italian restaurant within walking distance if that sounds good?”

“Sure.” Since her stomach was currently behaving, she’d keep her meal light. “Lead the way.”

Reaching out, he grabbed her hand in his and entwined their fingers as if they were a couple, and Elle had to remind themselves that they weren’t. But her body wasn’t listening to that memo. She suddenly felt carefree and happy and excited to be spending a few hours with him, and because she’d had so little of any of that in her life lately, she decided to enjoy the moment and the next hour or so in his company.

They headed down the street, passing other businesses on their way until they arrived at Giando on the Water, which was a fine-dining establishment and was already busy with a Friday-evening crowd. When they reached the hostess stand, Hunter dazzled the young girl behind the podium with a charismatic smile.

“Welcome to Giando on the Water,” Bianca—according to the name tag pinned on her blouse—greeted them. “Do you have reservations for dinner?”

Hunter shook his head. “No—”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Bianca cut him off. “But right now it’s a two-hour wait unless you have a reservation.”

“I understand.” Hunter’s voice was smooth and courteous. “By chance, Is Franco, the manager, working this evening?”

The other girl’s eyes widened, as if realizing that Hunter might be someone important. “Yes, he is.” Bianca spoke into the small device attached to the collar of her blouse, that was also connected to an earpiece. “Franco, can you please come up to the podium? Someone is here to see you.”

A few minutes later, a good-looking man in a pristine black suit appeared, about the same age as Hunter, and as soon as the other man saw Hunter, a wide smile lit up his face.

“Wilder! It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long,” Franco said jovially as their handshake transitioned into one of those man hugs that was accompanied by a firm slap on the back.

“I was in the area and wanted to take my date to the best restaurant in the neighborhood,” Hunter said once they’d separated. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a reservation, but I was hoping you might have an extra table on the VIP level?”

“For you and your beautiful lady, absolutely.” Franco grinned at Elle. “I have the perfect table for the two of you. Follow me.”

They headed down a corridor away from the main dining area that led to an elevator, and once the three of them were inside and making their way up to the second level, Elle asked, “So, how do you two know each other?”

“We grew up in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn,” Franco said before Hunter could reply, though her question hadn’t been directed to either man in particular. “We went to the same high school, played on the same football teams, and I spent a lot of time at his house when I was a teenager, until his parents were . . .” He seemed to catch himself before revealing more than he’d intended. “Well, until they died.”

Elle glanced at Hunter’s face, but his expression gave nothing away. Until his parents were . . . what? She had no idea how his parents had passed, but Elle’s gut told her that something tragic must have happened.

“This way,” Franco said as soon as the double doors slid open.

The second level was much quieter and the atmosphere and setting more intimate, including the big, warm hand that Hunter settled at the small of her back as they trailed behind Franco. Instead of tables out in the open, the small room had a row of tall, private booths facing the windows and the river view beyond. Even though there were a few other guests already up in the VIP area, their conversation was buffered by the high circular partitions surrounding each individual setting.

“Here you go,” Franco finally said as they arrived at their booth, which was smaller than the others and clearly designed for just two people and equally private. The only people who would see them would be the waitstaff when they came around to serve them.

Elle scooted into the booth, and Hunter did the same, leaving a few inches between them, and before Franco left, he placed his hand on Hunter’s shoulder and regarded him solemnly.

“Hey, I heard about your brother getting shot last week,” the other man said, startling Elle with that bit of news. “I’m glad to hear he’s okay.”

“Thanks.” Hunter nodded at Franco. “Me, too.”

When Franco left their table and they were finally alone, Elle stared at Hunter incredulously. “Your brother was shot?”

A grim look passed across Hunter’s features. “Yes. All part of that family emergency that kept me tied up for the past few weeks that I mentioned to you earlier.”

She blinked at him in shock, still trying to digest that scary realization. He’d told her his family was fine, but clearly his brother’s life had been in jeopardy. So many questions ran through her mind. “What happened?”

He sighed and gave her a faint smile. “It’s a long story, so let’s go ahead and order first,” he said as their waiter appeared with menus.

The gentleman took their drink orders, and by the time he arrived back with a premium bourbon for Hunter and a prosecco for her—which Elle hoped would be mild enough for her stom

ach—they’d decided what they wanted to eat.

“I’ll have a bowl of your minestrone soup,” she told the waiter.