“Opposition research. Every campaign, especially presidential campaigns, runs opposition research. We do it in business, too. So you pretty tight with the Chinese mafia?”
“You worry about us? You might want to look at some of your existing business partners.”
There’s something left unsaid, but I’m not sure what it is.
Eric gives a nervous laugh and looks over at Sierra. “You want dessert?”
“Of course,” Sierra purrs.
Like the scallops over risotto, dessert—a flourless chocolate torte topped with some kind of French cream—is to die for. I didn’t think my stomach had room for more food but I manage to eat every last bite. I feel Tony’s gaze again and glance up. Sure enough, he’s observing me. Blatantly.
The champagne served with dessert is more my style, and I drink that up. Hopefully it will ease my nerves because dinner is over, and that means we’re closer to what I came and auditioned for.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“More tequila?” Eric asks Sierra after we’ve gone downstairs to the den.
“Let’s change it up,” Sierra replies. “How about Sex on the Beach?”
Eric grins. “A staple from my days at U Penn.”
He and Sierra head to the bar. I stall at the threshold, not sure where to plant myself.
Tony indicates the sofa. “Sit.”
I’m glad to have a destination.
“What about you, Tony? There’s even some baijiu if you want.”
“I’ll try that Springbank scotch,” Tony replies as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa from me.
“You want a chaser with that?”
“You have a lime seltzer?”
“Yep.”
To avoid Tony’s gaze, I look out the window at the gorgeous view with the grayish waters of the Pacific rolling toward shore.
“How ’bout you—Virginia, is it?”
“Um...I don’t know...”
Lila and Mo never had alcohol at home. In high school, the kids that drank gravitated towards Bud or Coors.
“I can whip you up a Long Island Iced Tea.”
“Sure...”
“Don’t overdo it,” Tony warns Eric.
“Ahh,” Eric groans. “That takes the fun out of the drink.”
After handing everyone their drinks, Eric plops down on a large leather armchair and pulls Sierra onto his lap.
“You ladies having fun yet?” he asks.
“Omigod, yes,” Sierra replies. “Who wouldn’t be? You’ve got like every drink in existence here and a badass chef. Does he work just for you?”