by Lana Grayson
“Oh, go on,” Simone said. “He doesn’t bite on the first date.”
That was a step too far for Anthony. The disapproving glance aimed for me ricocheted to her. Simone went silent.
That was interesting.
“Coffee?” I asked. “Where?”
Where? That was the question I picked? Not what the hell is this place or are you going to beat that woman next or are you and Simone some sort of weird fetish couple dream team?
“There’s a cafe not far from here.” Anthony didn’t miss a beat as the screams from the mystery woman sang in pleasure. “On the corner of Fifth. Do you know it?”
I sighed. Yeah, I knew it. I almost worked there. I managed to get a job at the one on Eleventh instead, six blocks closer to my apartment.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll be there at seven.”
He was firm, but it wasn’t a question. It also wasn’t a demand. I bit my lip and offered him a nervous smile. Simone’s hand tickled along his bicep. A pang of jealousy ripped through me.
“Okay,” I said.
I didn’t confirm his invitation, but it was a sufficiently diplomatic response. They said nothing else, and I had the distinct impression the conversation was over. Dismissed then ignored. Not exactly polite, but, then again, society checked its morals with its coat when it entered a place like this.
I hurried back to the safety of the bar below, avoiding the curious gazes of those who watched me descend the stairs.
I knew what they thought, and they were right.
Duchess was no place where I belonged.
Oh, but I was so glad I came…
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