Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to go,” she admitted. It was true enough.
“I didn’t want to let Priestess Alana pluck my feather for a spell, but alas, we have to suffer for our dreams.”
“But this isn’t my dream.”
“Dining at one of the most buzz-worthy restaurants in the city is absolutely the dream, my darling girl. I’m not at all jealous. Now, chop chop.”
“What are we even going to talk about for an hour and a half?”
“Talk about your hopes and dreams. Your tragic pasts. Your favorite seaweed dish. Or just stare at each other longingly over breadsticks. Isn’t that what the humans do?” He gave her a wink. “Though, I’ll admit, your guy’s a bit … stiff. Like someone carved him from a block of dry salt. So, if all else fails, ask him about his political platform. We both know he can talk for hours about that.”
“True,” she agreed, sucking in a steadying breath. “Do I look okay?”
“No. You look stunning. Now go let the whole city be jealous.”
Not having a choice, Iris walked out of the bathroom and down the hall.
“Wow,” Finn said when he turned at the sound of her heels on the floor.
She liked the look in his eyes a little too much. So she rushed to grab her bag instead of letting herself soak in his admiration.
“We’re late,” she said.
Finn said nothing as he followed her to the door.
“Monty, don’t eat the cat,” she called.
“I’m going out too,” Monty said, waddling out with them. “I can’t help my nature. I would never actually eat him. His fur tastes funny, by the way.”
“Because I started using a perfume spray on him to stop you from putting your beak on him.”
“Rude,” Monty said, fluffing his feathers. “Do I look ready to party?” he asked.
He’d changed into a suit jacket instead. Iris had no idea where he even found clothes to fit him. But he did look pretty adorable all dressed up.
“Absolutely. You’ll be signing autographs in no time.”
“Of course I will,” Monty said, walking out of the elevator.
“Let’s take a cab,” Finn said, throwing a hand up in the air.
He tried to hide how he’d checked his watch again. “I’m always late,” she said, sliding into the back seat of the car. “My mother probably should have told you that.”
“We can still make it there in time.”
The restaurant was only a few blocks away. It was a brick building that had been painted black, with black awnings and a small number of outside seating surrounded by wrought-iron fences.
There were dozens of people standing outside, looking around, likely waiting for tables.
“We have to sell it,” Finn reminded her.
“I remember,” she said as Finn slipped out.
His hand extended to her, and she had to force herself to slip her hand into his.
They made their way through the crowd.
Cameras clicked. Phone screens lit up. A whisper floated by: “That’s the mermaid, right?”
Iris kept her chin lifted and her eyes forward, but it felt like barnacles were attaching to her skin.
It was impossible to tell if the stares were full of curiosity or judgment. Probably both.
“Henry will be pleased,” Finn said as they moved into the restaurant. And at those words, her heart felt like it deflated a bit in her chest. “Those pictures and videos should be circulating any moment now.”
Finn talked to the hostess as Iris turned around, taking in the surroundings.
Henry had been right about the ambiance. The entire inside of the restaurant was bathed in black, with occasional pops of red. Even the abundant overhead chandeliers and tabletop candles did nothing to brighten the cavernous-feeling space.
“Right this way, Mr. Westrock,” the hostess said.
Finn’s hand pressed to the center of her back, and she pretended to ignore the way her skin felt warm at his touch as they moved through the tight space between tables until they reached their own.
“I’m not sure how we’re going to read this,” Iris said after the hostess handed them their menus and moved away.
“You can’t really go wrong with steak.”
“Is steak good for optics?” Iris asked.
To that, Finn’s head tipped to the side, his gaze curious as he looked at her, making her feel suddenly exposed.
Whatever he was about to say, though, fell away as he closed his menu.
“Yes. Research shows that eating meat is popular among humans and most paranormals. So long as I am also willing to be seen at the occasional vegan restaurant as well.”
“Isn’t that exhausting?” she asked.
“What?”
“Always wondering what people think and want from you?”
“That’s the job,” he said, shrugging.
The server interrupted them then, taking their orders, and then pausing when there was an ear-piercing scream from somewhere deep in the building. Around them, several water glasses shattered, making the bussers rush over to clean them up.
“Our chef,” the hostess said with a strained smile. Iris was sure she could see pain behind the woman’s eyes, like she had a headache from the screaming.