LATER THAT NIGHT, Robbie found himself in the back of an Uber heading downtown to the address Julien had texted him. Earlier, he’d sent off a quick message to Elliot telling him they needed to get together ASAP, and then spent the rest of the day trying to decide what to wear tonight. As he looked down at the magenta coat lying across his lap, he grinned. He’d picked his outfit tonight with one thing in mind: to feel comfortable in his own skin.

He’d already had one asshole in his life try to tone him down, and there was no way he would ever do that again. So if Julien and Priest wanted Robbie Bianchi, then they were about to get him—loud, proud, and fucking fabulous, right down to his matching magenta Oxfords.

It was just closing in on eight when the car pulled up outside a historical building downtown, and Robbie looked out the car window to see a beautiful iron awning that stretched out over the sidewalk. There was no restaurant name visible, or people milling about outside, and the only lights he could see were through the shutters of one of the windows off to the side of the main door.

Robbie looked at the driver and said, “Um, are you sure this is the right place?”

His driver, Dave, looked at his GPS and read back the address, and Robbie checked it against Julien’s text. Yep, this is it. Huh. “Is this a restaurant?” he asked, wondering if Dave had dropped people off there before.

“I’m not sure, man. It looks like there’s people inside, though.”

Robbie looked back out the window and decided he was worrying over nothing. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure they’re inside. I’ve just never been here before.”

“Me neither. It looks new, judging by the fixtures up there and the empty planter pots.”

Robbie looked out to see that there was a cover over the middle of the awning where what appeared to be a name was underneath, and lining the way up to the front door were several large ceramic pots. He let out a relieved sigh. Maybe Julien knew the chef here or something?

Robbie thanked Dave and got out of the car, and as he did, he smoothed his hands down his pants and then wrapped his coat around his shoulders. He walked up the path that was lined with the planters and took a moment to look at the thick wooden beams supporting the awning above.

The place was gorgeous, glamorous in the way only a true classic could be, and when his Oxfords landed on a large mat in front of the revolving glass door, Robbie looked down and saw JULIEN written in white script across the plush black material.

Wait. This place is Julien’s restaurant?

Robbie knew that Julien had restaurants in both New York and L.A. and that they were world class, but he’d had no idea he was planning to open one here. As he realized exactly where he was standing, the door in front of him began to rotate, and coming through it to greet him was none other than Priest.

In pressed black pants and a white dress shirt, on which he’d left the top two buttons open, Priest was the very epitome of casual sophistication, and looked as though he belonged exactly where he was, stepping out of a grand old building. The only thing that would’ve made it perfect was if it was in another time. Maybe when Priest’s pal Sinatra could’ve graced the restaurant and serenaded them all for the night.

Robbie quietly laughed at the thought, wondering when he’d become so fanciful, as Priest stepped out of the door.

Not one to usually care one way or another what someone thought about him, Robbie was surprised to feel a wave of uncertainty wash over him as Priest ran his eyes down his outfit, and then ever so slowly brought them back up to his face.

Robbie was close to demanding that Priest tell him what he thought, but something made him hold his tongue. Maybe the daring look in Priest’s eyes challenging him to speak.

“I see you found the place without any problem,” Priest said, and Robbie looked past his shoulder to the doors with the wooden paneling and golden trim.

“It wasn’t easy without a name.”

“Even with a name, you wouldn’t have found it easier. JULIEN is not yet open to the public.”

So Robbie had been right—this was going to be Julien’s new restaurant. A Chicago location. But if it wasn’t open to the public… “Then why am I here?”

“Because tonight you are not the public.” Priest stepped aside, gesturing for Robbie to walk by, and as he did, he stopped and turned his head to meet Priest eye to eye.

“Then what am I?”

“Tonight, you are ours.”

* * *

PRIEST FOLLOWED ROBBIE through the revolving door of JULIEN and kept his eyes trained on the regal set of his shoulders under the bold coat that was draped over the top of them.

Robbie had dressed to impress tonight. Or he’d dressed thinking that he would embarrass and upset. But if that was his intention, he was out of luck. Priest could barely tear his eyes off Robbie’s long legs, which were wrapped in rose-colored pants, or the fitted cream turtleneck he’d tucked in all perfect and proper, which made Priest want to take him to the closest table, lay him down on it, and mess him the fuck up.

But that wasn’t the plan tonight, and when Robbie stopped in the main entrance to the restaurant, Priest came up behind him and said by his ear, “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” Robbie said as he took in the coffered ceiling of the main dining room and the refined neoclassical architecture surrounding them.

The space would eventually hold up to one hundred and fifty guests. But right now, it was empty, save the two of them, and all that could be seen were round tables, with pristine white linens set to perfection, and wall sconces in small alcoves, giving an intimate glow to the room. Off to the left was the bar area, and to the right was a wall lined with hundreds of bottles of wine—that was where they were going.

Priest placed a hand on the small of Robbie’s back, and when he startled at the touch, Priest said, “May I?”

Robbie swallowed, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the space, no doubt searching out Julien, but then he nodded. “You may. But don’t get too handsy back there.”

Priest gave him a questioning look and then urged Robbie in the direction he wanted him to go. “And what constitutes too handsy?”

Robbie’s feet faltered at the question, and Priest took hold of his arm to steady him.

“Is this too much, would you say?”

As Robbie looked down to where Priest’s hand lay on his arm and bit on his lip—something he did when he was nervous—the sight of his teeth pressing into that soft flesh made Priest want to be the one biting him. Instead, he waited, sensing that as brave as Robbie was trying to be, there was a skittish air to him tonight. Which told Priest that if they moved too fast, Robbie would bolt, and that would be the end of that.

“No,” Robbie said. “I just meant keep it above the waist.”

Priest lowered his eyes to the lone cream button at the waistband of Robbie’s pants. “I can do that.”

Robbie let out a breathless little laugh. “You’re trying to throw me off my game, right?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re being nice, and polite, and for you, that seems like a game.”

Priest regarded Robbie closely and then began to walk again, and Robbie did the same.

“I don’t play games. In fact, neither of us do,” Priest said, as they rounded the dividing wall and stepped into the Lounge, an intimate space with wood-paneled walls, comfortable sofas, low chairs, and a more muted glow that offered a relaxed ambiance for lovers and secret rendezvous. “Julien and I are one hundred percent transparent with anyone we plan to take to our bed.”

Robbie raised his chin, in that telltale sign of courage, and said, “And is that where you plan to take me?”

Priest brought his hand around from his back and tapped that pointy chin. “Some of the times.”

“Some of the—? There’ll be more than one time?”

“We hope so.”

Robbie sucked in a breath and swallowed. “And what about the other times?”

Priest smiled. “I’d hoped you would be like this. Julien said that you were.”

“Like what?”

“Curious. You’re very curious, and I like that. But,” Priest said, and glanced over Robbie’s shoulder, “we’ll talk more about that in a minute. I believe our chef for the evening would like your attention.”

At the mention of Julien, Robbie turned around, and when both of them faced the owner of the building they were standing in, Priest leaned down and whispered in Robbie’s ear, “That expression on his face means that he wants you to come.”

Robbie’s head whipped to the left to face Priest, and it wasn’t lost on Priest that their lips were the closest they’d ever been. It wasn’t lost on Robbie either, judging by the pink shade now flushing his cheeks.

“You better move. Julien’s somewhat temperamental about who comes in his restaurant and when. Don’t want to let this opportunity pass you by.”

* * *

MON DIEU… ROBBIE looked good enough to eat as he stood in front of Priest in an outfit that made Julien think of the sweet cotton candy he used to get at the local fair.

With his hair sweeping off to the side, and his face devoid of all makeup but the natural blush staining his cheeks from whatever Priest had just said, Robbie looked young, fresh, and so fucking sweet that Julien’s teeth ached almost as much as his stiffening dick.

As Robbie and Priest made their way toward him, Julien couldn’t help but note the way his husband was checking out the man between the two of them. Priest’s eyes were on Robbie’s ass, and Julien could only imagine what was going through Priest’s head.

“Bonsoir. You look gorgeous tonight. I see you found my new slice of paradise,” Julien said as he stepped forward to greet Robbie with a kiss to both cheeks. “I hope Priest behaved himself just now.”

When Julien took a step back, Robbie glanced at the silent man beside him. “Surprisingly, he did.”

“Good. Otherwise I’d have to punish him, and it’s much more fun when Priest’s the one doing that.” When Robbie’s eyes widened a fraction, Julien laughed. “Don’t look so worried—he’s really very sweet, deep down inside. The fun part is getting in there and finding it.”

“Thank you, Julien. For such high praise,” Priest said, and the slight tilt to his lips had Julien grinning.

“You’re welcome. I haven’t even started listing your most favorable qualities, mon amour.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Priest said in a tone that suggested otherwise, making Robbie grin.

“Can I take your coat for you?” Julien asked, gesturing to the bright garment around Robbie’s shoulders.

“Oh, yeah,” Robbie said, and took it off. “This place is like something out of a movie. It’s so fancy.”

Julien draped the soft fabric over his arm and nodded as he looked around the restaurant. “Thank you. It’s almost ready for opening.”

“When’s that?” Robbie asked.

“Valentine’s Day. So the middle of next month,” Priest answered.

Robbie looked around again and laughed softly as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe I’m standing in one of your restaurants. Julien Thornton’s restaurant. That’s, like, wow—not gonna lie.”

Julien chuckled. “Well, I’m hoping you’ll do more than just stand in it, princesse.” Robbie’s cheeks turned crimson, and Julien really started to laugh then. “Wherever did your mind just go?”

“Nowhere,” Robbie said, and then looked over at Priest, who was watching the exchange with guarded eyes.

“I told you,” Priest said to Julien. “That’s something we’ll have to work on.”

Robbie screwed his nose up. “What is?”

“Your habit of lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

“No?” Priest said.

“No.”

“Then what were you just thinking that made your face turn the same shade as your coat?”

Robbie’s mouth opened and shut several times, until Julien decided to step in and save the poor man. “Joel, why don’t you go to our table, and Robbie and I will join you shortly.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Priest asked.

“Oui, I am.” Julien then kissed Priest on the cheek to soften the blow.

“Fair enough. I’ll see you both soon.”

Julien inclined his head, and as Priest disappeared around the corner and out of sight, Robbie let out a breath.

“Are you all right?” Julien asked.

“Yeah, he’s just…” Robbie tugged at the neck of his sweater. “Is he always like that?”

“Yes. He is.” Julien regarded Robbie closely. “Would you like a drink?”

“God yes.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go and get you a drink, and we’ll talk.”

* * *

ROBBIE COULDN’T STOP his eyes from hungrily roving over Julien as he weaved them through the tables of the main dining area. He was wearing a pair of white linen pants that sat low on his hips, and a V-neck tee that was tight, black, and outlined every muscle to perfection.

Robbie watched the shift of his shoulder blades as he walked, the trim waist, his spectacular ass, and just…wow. Julien should’ve looked out of place dressed as he was in the opulent setting. But he didn’t. He looked comfortable, at home, and so fucking sexy that Robbie was having a difficult time walking.

As they made their way over to the bar area, Robbie felt as though he’d stepped back in time. This space of the restaurant had an old European charm about it. It was understated and classic, and brought to mind jazz and cultured people sitting about sipping their cocktails. Actually, when he thought about it, it was the perfect blend of the two men he was eating dinner with tonight.

Julien, the sexy, smooth European-American whose smile and charm made Robbie want to do whatever he asked. And Priest, the classic/cultured suit whose serious vibe was starting to turn Robbie on as opposed to irritate the shit out of him.

The two together made Robbie’s entire body feel as though it were connected to an electrical socket, and he was close to positive he’d sell his soul to experience the shock of it, even though he was aware he was playing with something incredibly dangerous. Something he knew he shouldn’t touch.

Julien stepped around the bar and indicated that Robbie should take a seat. So he moved one of the barstools, sat down, and then looked across the counter to the three brightly lit archways where shelves of alcohol were fully stocked and ready to serve.

“And what would you like to drink tonight?” Julien said, his eyes twinkling as he added, “A French Whore, perhaps?”

As Robbie’s words from last night floated in the air between them, he decided it was time to relax. Priest had definitely rattled him a little at first, but it was time to loosen up and be himself—and holding back was so not his style.

Hooking his feet on the rung of the stool, Robbie leaned over the counter and aimed his eyes at Julien’s mouth. “I’d definitely like to taste something French.”

Julien chuckled, and the sound was low and provocative as it wrapped itself around Robbie and went straight to his cock. Then Julien put his hands on the counter and leaned in until his lips were only inches from Robbie’s. “You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you, Mr. Bianchi.”

Breathe, Robbie thought, and willed himself not to hyperventilate. But that wasn’t so easy when he was this close to Julien’s mouth. “You asked me what I wanted.”

“And you want something…French in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” Robbie answered eagerly, and Julien laughed, a wicked, sexy sound that made Robbie squirm on his seat.

“Have you ever had anything French before?”

“A kiss. Want to give me another?” Robbie said, batting his lashes.

“Oh, I want to kiss you, princesse. And if you’re a good boy, I just might.”

“I can be good. God,” Robbie said before he could stop himself. “You’re so fucking hot.”

The smile that curved Julien’s full lips was sex, but on, like, steroids.

“Merci.”

“And that? Fuck me.” Robbie lowered a hand down to press it against his erection. His breathing now more like panting. “That just makes you even hotter.”

Julien took hold of Robbie’s chin and said, “Good. I’ll be sure to speak French whenever I want your cock hard.”

That will never be a problem around you, Robbie thought, as Julien let him go.

“So, what would you like to drink?”

“Huh?” Robbie said, his brain still conjuring up images of French kissing and hard cocks.

“I asked what you’d like to drink.”

“Oh.” Robbie’s eyes went to the shelves of liquor as he tried to think about something other than the ache between his legs. And when he finally had himself under some kind of control, he looked back to Julien and said, “How about Sex on My Face?”

Julien reached for a glass and put it on the counter, and then grabbed a bottle of Malibu and whiskey. “You’re a shameless flirt.”

“As if you’re not. Plus, Priest told me not to lie.”

“That he did,” Julien said, and began to mix the drink.

Robbie watched his every move. Those long fingers, tight around the cocktail shaker. The muscles under his tight black tee, and those lips Robbie wanted to feel on every part of his body? Yeah, he was watching those too.

There was a reason Julien had become the celebrity he had beyond his cooking abilities. It was the overall package. French. Gorgeous. Flirtatious. Add in the fact he could cook like a boss, and both men and women had fallen in love with the temperamental chef.

Julien was sex personified with those full lips and harsh features, until he smiled and that dimple snuck out to play. And right now, he was pushing a drink across to Robbie with a smirk that promised he was in for one hell of a night.

As Robbie picked up his glass, Julien raised the one he’d made for himself, and then lifted his eyes up and over Robbie’s shoulder.

It wasn’t until Robbie turned around to see where Julien was looking that he noticed an upper level of sorts. It wasn’t a balcony. It wasn’t an open floor space. More a room with a view, and standing in that room, watching the two of them, was Priest. He had a glass of wine in his hand and a pensive look on his face, and when he crooked a finger at Robbie, Robbie’s cock got impossibly harder.

“May tonight bring many more opportunities for…sex on your face,” Julien said, and Robbie let out an inelegant snort and grinned as he raised his glass to his lips, because there was no way he wasn’t going to drink to that.