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“So did Rafe tell you the news?” he asked, and I froze. I could only think of one kind of news that would involve both Carlton and my brother.
“No,” I said carefully.
He dropped his voice, and I remembered Jane and other reporters were buzzing around. “It’s nearly a done deal. Me joining Perez.”
Could that possibly be true? I was part-owner of the team. Didn’t I get a say in this? And my say was that I didn’t think I wanted Blake Carlton hanging around—and on my payroll.
On the other hand, Rafe had not been having a great season. Objectively I understood why he would want Blake on the team. Hell, it would be a major coup and huge for getting sponsorships alone.
Noting my shocked silence, Blake said, “Look, what are your plans for this evening? I know Flynn has to keep the Russo head honchos occupied tonight, so what would you say to me buying you some dinner? We can talk about my contract and all I can bring to the team.”
No, no, no. But … “A business dinner?”
“Sure.”
“I really shouldn’t. If Devin found out …” Why was Blake always pushing my buttons? I was happy with Devin, and he needed to accept that. He also needed to stop kissing me. But this was just a business dinner …
Carlton exchanged his smirk with a genuine smile, the kind that melts hearts and makes a person agree to stupid things. “You tell him you are having dinner with some friends, then you and I can have a private dinner in a little French restaurant I love in East Montreal. I promise that no one will see us together.”
I bit down on my lower lip in consternation. I knew I should say no. Not only was I lying to Devin, it felt like cheating too. On the other hand, I had things to say to Blake Carlton that couldn’t be said around reporters. And I needed to know what the hell was going on with his plans to join the team. Plus, something about the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel …
“All right, Carlton, give me the time and the location and I’ll be there.”
ChapterSeventeen
Luna
“So where are you going?” Devin asked. He was inspecting his hair. Davide claimed he had spotted some gray, and Devin was determined to find it.
“Dinner with some old university friends. They found out I was in town, and they insisted on getting together,” I said, applying some nude-colored lipstick with just a hint of pink. I’d even splurged on some blush and mascara. Devin side-eyed me but didn’t ask why I was getting all made up. I hated lying to him, but I needed to say some things to Blake in private. And I knew I was playing with fire.
“Lipstick. These must be some special friends. You never put on lipstick for me.”
“I want to impress these friends,” I said, feeling the guilt weigh heavier. “I haven’t seen them in a while. And for the record, I do wear lipstick for you.”
“Where are you meeting these friends? Maybe I could come by later?”
Shit. “The art gallery. I’m not sure where we’re going from there. I could text you. They’re art friends, and I’m sure we will be discussing art all evening.” I was pouring it on thick. Not once had I ever mentioned a love of fine art.
Devin wrinkled his nose. “I think I’ll pass.”
Just as I’d expected. I glanced at my watch. Another momentary pang of guilt. Everything this evening was going to remind me of Devin, right down to my Zone watch. “I have to go. Call me if you decide you want to meet us,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. I looked at him one last time before I walked out the door. He was still inspecting his hair for gray.
I arrived at the restaurant right on time. I was escorted to another room, away from all the other patrons. It was secluded, with dim lighting and a candle on the table. Soft dinner music was playing in the background. I felt a chill run up my spine.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I wanted to turn and leave, run as far away as possible, but something held me back.
“Monsieur Carlton said he would be a few minutes late,” the gentleman said as he showed me to my seat. “May I get you anything?”
“A glass of your best red wine,” I said. Since I was doing something incredibly foolish, going out drinking the best red wine seemed like a good option.
“Yes, of course,” he said and then disappeared.
I tapped my foot nervously as I looked around the room. The paintings on the wall were mostly of scantily clad women, but tastefully done. The room had a few other tables, but they were all empty, likely by Blake’s request.
The waiter returned with my wine, and I sipped it slowly. I had to keep my wits about me, even though I wanted to down the whole glass and order another.
