Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I got mine,” Kingsley replied.
“And no, I didn’t tell him that in those words,” I added. “I said I had dinner plans tonight but that I’d try to make it sometime next week.”
To this day, I didn’t understand how Noa and I had formed our friendship. As with the others, it was new. I was new to their kinky world. Everything was new. And there he was, Noa Hayles, approximately five feet tall, some twenty-five years younger than me, very much devoted to not only his Daddy Dom but also his Master and a boyfriend, and… I couldn’t describe it, but I enjoyed our banter very much. We flirted innocently—with permission from his indecently handsome Owners, of course. He just…made me smile a whole lot.
I’d never been accused of being funny before he and I had started joking around in our online community.
Kingsley addressed his boy. “I was thinking we could go on Wednesday.”
Day before Thanksgiving. It would be the last day of the punk rock festival Noa’s band was participating in. They had a gig every evening, starting tonight.
“Wednesday works for me,” Tate answered. “You, Franklin?”
Thank you.
I didn’t want to assume they’d want me to go with them. “I’d love to.”
It was settled. In Kingsley’s words, “It’s a date.” I’d attend a punk rock show on Wednesday with my new kinky friends.
How my life had changed.
2
I understood Tate’s comment about Ocean Prime as I arrived in Penn Quarter and my driver pulled up outside the restaurant. To prepare myself, I’d Googled a bit on the way, and I couldn’t decide if the establishment was intimate or merely upscale. According to TripAdvisor, they had several dining rooms, some larger meant for bigger parties, some smaller with tables for two. The dim lighting in the pictures caused most of the confusion.
I’d never hosted a business lunch in a restaurant with the lighting set to romance, that was for certain.
Jack had texted to let me know he was at our table, so I buttoned my suit and headed in, informing the hostess my company had been seated under the name Dune.
Jackson Dune.
Definitely a swanky place, to use Tate’s word. Everyone was dressed up. Many were clearly here on a date. Others belonged to larger parties, and the din consisted of laughter, chatting, and glasses clinking.
I spotted him right as I was guided into another section, another dining area, and the nerves made a swift return. He sat alone at a table somewhere in the middle, and he was exchanging words with a server—and that charming smile of his. I bet it could disarm anyone.
He was holding the wine list.
“Here we are, sir,” the hostess in front of me said. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.” I smiled politely, first at the hostess, then at Jack as he lifted his gaze to me.
It was in his eyes. The “it factor.” His deep blue-gray eyes caught everything. The charisma was a filter on top of it all, and that was how he could capture the attention of everyone around him. Along with two faint dimples that appeared when he smiled.
“Uncle Franklin.” He rose from his seat, all sleekness and grace.
He shared a thing or two with Tate, actually. They both had polished exteriors; only Jack wore tailored suits rather than chinos and cashmere found on sale.
“It’s good to see you, son.” I shook his hand firmly and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. “You understand your mother’s given me a spiel on how to convince you to make it home for the holiday.”
He let out a soft laugh and sat down again. “I’m shocked.”
I smiled and sat down across from him. “Work’s keeping you busy, I presume. Will you be in DC the whole week?”
He smirked faintly and handed me the wine list. “I’ll be here for as long as it takes.”
No need to push. I was sure he had some company to scout out. Considering the server was waiting patiently, I ordered a drink, a Vieux Carré, so I could take my time with the rest of my order.
Jack ordered a gin with ice, and I remembered he was a gin guy. Samantha and I had visited him in New York a few years ago, and he’d had an impressive collection.
“It’s strange seeing you without Aunt Samantha,” he said.
Ah. He was diving right in on the divorce talk.
I distracted myself by opening the dinner menu. A small knot of unease had built up in my stomach since the moment I’d arrived, but to be honest, I’d thought it would’ve been worse.
“She was…disgruntled…to hear I’d get to see you and she wouldn’t,” I admitted.
I was still going with the scallops. As much as I loved a good steak—and they seemed to know what they were doing at this place—I couldn’t eat seafood at home. The mere smell turned Lily’s stomach.