Chapter Nine
Julian
“Wait. Wait. Wait. You’re telling me that you spent the day touring sex dungeons while the rest of us punched the clock?”
Dean groaned as he waved the cocktail waitress back over toward us.
“Can I help you?” she crooned, eyeing Dean with blatant interest.
“Yeah.” Dean pointed toward me and I watched the waitress stare back and forth between us, unsure of where she wanted to focus. “This bastard here would like to buy me another beer,” he said, throwing his hand onto my shoulder and squeezing hard.
I rolled my eyes but nodded for her to go ahead with the order.
After a few days of playing phone tag, Dean and I had finally managed to meet up for drinks at the lounge on the first floor of my hotel. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since an old college friend’s wedding, so the least I could do was buy him another beer.
“So any girl in your life? Anyone you can take to the sex dungeon you discovered?” Dean asked with a cheeky smile.
I thought of how much work had dominated my time lately—and then out of nowhere, Josephine popped into my thoughts. I shook my head clear of the memory of her standing in the dark closet, of her laughter as we fled from the apartment as quickly as we could.
I realized Dean was still waiting for an answer.
“Nah, I left them behind in Boston,” I said with a shrug.
A basketball game was playing behind Dean’s head and I snuck a quick glance at the score before meeting his eyes. His skeptical glance told me he didn’t believe my answer.
“Julian fucking Lefray doesn’t have a girl following him around like a horny puppy?” Dean asked, clutching his hand to his chest like he was having a heart attack. “What has the world come to?”
I smiled. “Times have changed.”
He smiled smugly but didn’t challenge my declaration.
“What about you? How’s business?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation as far away from me as possible.
At thirty-two, Dean Harper was a well-known restaurateur in New York City. He’d already opened five successful restaurants, one of which—a burger joint—had turned into a franchise that spanned from Brooklyn to the Upper West Side. He had a gift when it came to creating unique dining experiences. Food was his forte and I knew he was probably hard at work on his next project.
“Business is good,” he nodded. “I have a soft opening for Provisions this weekend.”
“Already? I swear I remember you talking about the idea for that place just last week,” I said.
He smirked—a classic Dean move—and then reclined back in his seat. “Yeah well, the restaurant world moves fast. Seems like as soon as I start working on a project another idea pops up in its place.”
Our waitress returned with our drinks and she bent to hand us each a cold brew. “Can I get you boys anything else?” she asked with a little wink at Dean.
I laughed.
“We’re all set,” I said, saving myself from having to watch Dean flirt with her for the next half hour. He threw her a smile as she walked off and I took the chance to watch another few seconds of the basketball game.
“Anyway,” Dean said, ruffling his blond hair. “This new place is awesome. We tried to make it a little oasis in the heart of the city. There’s a courtyard in the center with a grove of trees. It’ll be where most of the action takes place.”
“Let me guess what the waitstaff will wear,” I chimed in.
He smiled. “We’re in New York, my friend. Skin sells.”
“You know what else sells?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Good food.”
Dean laughed. “Why not both?”
I laughed and took another swig of my drink. We watched the last few minutes of the basketball game as we finished our beers. Dean talked my ear off about his new restaurant and I did my best not to think of Josephine.
“I hate to cut the night short but I’ve got to get up for work in the morning,” I said, finishing off my beer with a long drag.
“Are you serious?” Dean protested. “You work for yourself dude, c’mon. Have one more drink. No one will notice if you’re late in the morning.”
I smiled. “Actually they will.”
“What? You already hired an employee?”
I shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. “Two days ago.”
“Where’d you find him?”
I decided not to correct his pronoun choice.
“On the web.”
“He wasn’t a friend of Lorena’s or something?” he asked.
Why the hell did he care about my employee? I kept my focus on the TV and gave him the shortest possible answer.
“No. She doesn’t know Lorena.”
“She?”
I held my hands up in defense. “It’s the fashion industry, what do you expect? Most of the applicants were women.”
Dean sank back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “I guess I know the real answer to that question from earlier.”
“What?” I stared at him. “What question?”
“Who the almighty Lefray is le-fucking.”
“She’s my employee!” I argued. “I hardly know her.”
“What’d she wear to work today? What color eyes does she have? How many times have you stared at her ass?”
I ignored his questions, threw some cash down on the table to cover our tab, and walked toward the entrance.
“See you at my opening this weekend,” Dean yelled. “Oh and be sure to invite the girl you aren’t sleeping with! I still need a date!”
I flipped him the bird as I walked out of the bar.