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I wonder what’s happening beyond those. Business dinners. Dates. Something else altogether.
She opens the last one and smiles pleasantly as we walk into the modern black-and-gold lounge.
“I understand you’ll be trying our tasting menu tonight?”
“Yes,” Callum says without my input.
I roll my eyes, unsurprised, but also unbothered. Tasting menu sounds like exactly what I would have wanted to eat in a place like this.
“The first course will arrive in a moment. Afterwards, please do press on your call button when you’re ready for the next. You will have absolute privacy until you let us know we can come back in.”
And I’m back to being red. I guess these rooms are definitely meant for something other than business dinners.
That explains why the seats seem so comfortable—beds, more than sofas.
She’s gone after one last smile.
“I haven’t agreed to fuck you,” I remind him as soon as the door is shut.
Callum’s washing his hands in a small basin that’s far too pretty—I thought it was a plant pot or something—and I imitate him.
“Love, if it was about fucking me, I wouldn’t ask. Now go sit that beautiful ass down before I change my mind and have you for dinner.”
He makes his way to the sofa on the far wall, and I take my place on the other one, even more dumbfounded than before.
I’m about to ask another question for him to ignore when the door opens again, four servers armed with several small dishes coming in.
Each plate contains less than a bite-size serving of things I couldn’t begin to identify. Squares. Fleshy bits. Foam.Air. It all looks dainty and beautiful and nothing like food.
“So,” Callum says, reaching out for a dish on his right.
He takes it between two fingers, bringing it directly to his mouth.
I do the same, and lose all my ability to think for several moments.
Oh. My. God.
Is this what rich people eat? No pasta or pizza or potatoes, just heaven on a plate?
I think I come a little in my panties. I want to cry because it’s already gone.
“Why you. That was your first of many queries, yes?”
It takes me a while to get over what’s in my mouth, but I finally manage to nod.
“Are you sure you wanna know?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. That’s the entire reason I’m here.”
Though if I’d known about the food, I would have come anyway.
How do people even make things like that? With what?
“You have a half-sister.”
My jaw falls as my hand stops, halfway to the next dish.
What?
