Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
The restaurant was not that.
The walls were red, yes.
But there were crystal sconces on them. The tablecloths were bright white. There was a single red rose in a delicate vase on each table, along with votive candles. The waitstaff wore black bowties, pressed white shirts, black pants and long white aprons. The lighting was superb, low and intimate enough to make this the perfect place for a couple’s night out, not so low you couldn’t read the menus or wouldn’t take your mom there for a nice meal.
It did not say This is likely a front for money laundering.
It said Yes, you can propose to your woman here, and you’ll never forget that precious memory.
I should have known we were going to see this because I’d looked up the menu online, and it had beef stroganoff on it, but the beef in their stroganoff was filet mignon.
The very pretty, slender, black-body-con-dress-wearing, blonde hostess looked up to us from her podium as we arrived.
Her eyes widened.
“VIPs,” she said with a distinct Russian accent.
How sweet.
Dimitri told his hostess we were VIPs.
“Please, this way,” she said and gestured to the side with her slim hand tipped with blood red nails.
We walked farther into the restaurant and headed toward a space in the back corner that was on a rise and delineated by intricate latticework dark-wood panels. You could see in, but not quite. It had a huge, round table in it, but there was not a single red rose decorating it. Instead, a massive bouquet sat in the middle, with another rose at each place setting. And there was a large champagne stand with several bottles already chilling and a napkin folded over it resting by the table.
Oh, and Titus was there. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black slacks and a perfectly tailored gray blazer with the fine edge of a black pocket square in it.
He was working it too, but the man was gorgeous. He worked everything.
Last, for some reason, Tex was also there.
As for his apparel, instead of his usual flannel, he wore a jean shirt buttoned up to his throat (you couldn’t see it under his beard, I just knew because that was how Tex wore all his shirts). And that was the only nod he made to being somewhere fancy.
Titus stood when we ascended the three steps to the private-but-not-totally-private room.
Tex was leaned back in his chair with both his arms spread along the ones beside him, and he didn’t get up.
“My babies,” Titus greeted warmly and magnanimously, as was Titus’s way, opening his arms wide, his invitation to line up for hugs, as was also Titus’s way.
Dutifully, the Angels moved in single file, each of us receiving a tight Titus hug.
It wasn’t until Titus helped Gemma into her chair and pushed her under the table when someone brought it up.
And it was Jessie who did it.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Tex.
“I know how this goes,” Tex replied.
“How what goes?” Raye asked.
“Ethnic restaurant relying heavily on the color red for décor,” he didn’t quite answer.
Harlow leaned into the table and explained, “It’s a Rock Chick thing.”
Ahh.
No one asked because no one wanted to know.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Tex decreed.
“Heads up,” Titus murmured.
We all turned to the wide space that led into our VIP section to see Dimitri sauntering our way.
And…hot damn.
Black shirt, open at the throat, under a black suit. Hair perfect. Face perfect. Body perfect.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just keeping good relations with our allies that brought us to the Red Bear. Maybe it was just to get another eye full of Dimitri.
Though, total honesty be damned (on this occasion), I wasn’t going to share that with Knox.
“Ladies,” he greeted when he arrived, dipping his head in the general direction of the table. His attention moved to Titus, “Bratukha.” Then his eyes focused on Tex and he said nothing.
“Dimitri, this is Tex. He’s our boss,” Raye introduced.
Dimitri made no response, Tex made no overtures at greeting, the two men just stared at each other.
I shifted in my seat.
“He’s also kind of an honorary Angel,” Willow added. “He taught us how to break and enter.”
Auspiciously, this worked to break the ice, and all the girls did their version of swooning without actually swooning when a slow, glamorous smile spread across Dimitri’s face.
“Welcome to the Red Bear,” he said to Tex, then to the rest of us, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve set your menu so you can experience the best of our fare. Simply tell your server if there’s something you don’t eat. This evening is on me.”
“Nah, man, it’s on me,” Titus chimed in.
“They’re my girls, it’s on me,” Tex grunted.
It was really hard to be annoyed at how the men thought they could horn in and pay for food we all could afford to pay for ourselves (not to mention, this was something Arthur would totally reimburse us for) when they were being so sweet.