Blaze
Page 33
“I told you, we’re going for dinner.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Harper wasn’t exactly surprised when Levi stopped the car outside one of the classiest hotels on the Las Vegas strip – a hotel Knox owned, but not one she’d been to before.
Knox often took her to fancy places, not caring that she was only in jeans and a T-shirt and would stick out like a sore thumb. Harper didn’t like to stand out, but the reality was that she’d stand out for the simple reason that she was with Knox Thorne – it wouldn’t matter how she was dressed. So she figured she might as well be wearing comfortable clothes than an elegant get-up she didn’t feel right in.
He kept his hand possessively locked around her wrist as they entered the grand, luxurious hotel and the cool air-conditioned air hit her face. A few of the staff rushed to him; he answered their questions without breaking stride. It was a usual thing, whichever of his hotels they went to. He led her past the elevator doors and toward the casino.
As the automatic doors swished open, the smells of tobacco, perfume, cologne, and air deodorizer surrounded her. They walked along the soft, patterned carpet; passing roulette wheels, card tables, and people who were swearing or cursing at backlit gambling machines. Alarms dinged and players cheered, overriding the music filtering in from another room.
The security guards patrolling the floor nodded at Knox as he led her to the exit, through a boutique store, and over to a restaurant. He swung open the glass door and said, “After you, baby.”
With a thankful smile, she stepped inside. Silverware clinked, ice tinkled in glasses, and diners murmured and laughed softly. The people queuing near the hostess station probably would have snarled at her for skipping the line if she wasn’t with Knox, a guy moving with utter purpose like he had every right to be where he was; muscles flexing and bunching beneath his designer suit.
The hostess practically tripped over herself trying to get to him. “Mr. Thorne,” she purred. “Such a pleasant surprise. I’m Trisha.” The human’s eyes cut to Harper and flickered with perplexity, and she knew what the hostess was thinking: what was such a gorgeous, successful, lethally sensual male doing with a small, average-looking, casually dressed nobody?
Harper had often asked herself the same thing until she’d come to know him and realized that, though he may have enjoyed the company of beautiful women, he wasn’t at all shallow.
The hostess’s attention returned to Knox. “I’m assuming you’d like to be shown to your usual private room?” He merely inclined his head. Grabbing two menus, Trisha said, “Please follow me.”
The restaurant was just as elegant and tasteful as the hotel itself. Low-hanging lights. High-top tables. Soft music. Paintings lining the walls. And as always Harper felt out of place. It didn’t matter that she lived in a home even more opulent than this. It was still hard to be among these people and walk in their world. That was what it often felt like – another world.
The elegant feel of the restaurant continued into the private room. Trisha stood aside while Knox and Harper settled at the tastefully arranged table that could easily seat four people. A middle-aged male entered and bowed slightly to Knox and Harper, quite obviously a demon.
Trisha seemed surprised by the courtly gesture but simply said to Knox, “Charles will be your waiter for the evening. If there are any problems, don’t hesitate to ask for me.” Handing the menus to Knox and Harper, Trisha then added, “Enjoy your meal.”
Pen and pad in hand, Charles came forward. “Would you like to order a drink while you take time to read the menu?”
Knox looked at Harper. “Do you trust me?”
Without lifting her eyes from the menu, she replied, “In other words, will I let you pick the wine since I know nothing about it? Yes.”
“Good.”
Charles scribbled down the order Knox gave and left the room.
Knox then took out his cell phone and switched it off, wanting them to have uninterrupted time alone. “How’s your back?”
“A little stiff,” she replied. “Not as bad as it was this morning.”
“The more natural flying comes to you, the less it will be a strain on your muscles.”
“Can we have another lesson soon?”
“Sure. You impressed me with how hard you tried. I suppose I should have known how persistent you would be.” She was a sphinx, after all. They had the fierceness of a lion. “Ready to order yet?”
She snapped the menu shut. “Yep.”
“You want to skip starters and go straight for a steak,” he guessed.
“You know me so well.”
Moments later, Charles reappeared with the wine. Knox and Harper then placed their orders, and the waiter left. As Knox watched her fidget with the salt and pepper shakers, he said, “Something is bothering you. What is it?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Kellen won’t answer my calls.” She slumped in her chair. “I didn’t think he’d use me as a scapegoat the way Roan has.”
“I don’t think he’s using you as a scapegoat. Nor do I think he blames himself for not helping Carla. He most likely feels guilty.”
“For what?” she asked, smoothing her hands over the incredibly soft table cloth.
Knox picked up his glass and swished the wine. “He expressed to you on several occasions that he doesn’t particularly like Carla. Now she’s gone and she’s quite possibly hurt; he could be feeling guilty for all the things he said about her.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Harper wasn’t exactly surprised when Levi stopped the car outside one of the classiest hotels on the Las Vegas strip – a hotel Knox owned, but not one she’d been to before.
Knox often took her to fancy places, not caring that she was only in jeans and a T-shirt and would stick out like a sore thumb. Harper didn’t like to stand out, but the reality was that she’d stand out for the simple reason that she was with Knox Thorne – it wouldn’t matter how she was dressed. So she figured she might as well be wearing comfortable clothes than an elegant get-up she didn’t feel right in.
He kept his hand possessively locked around her wrist as they entered the grand, luxurious hotel and the cool air-conditioned air hit her face. A few of the staff rushed to him; he answered their questions without breaking stride. It was a usual thing, whichever of his hotels they went to. He led her past the elevator doors and toward the casino.
As the automatic doors swished open, the smells of tobacco, perfume, cologne, and air deodorizer surrounded her. They walked along the soft, patterned carpet; passing roulette wheels, card tables, and people who were swearing or cursing at backlit gambling machines. Alarms dinged and players cheered, overriding the music filtering in from another room.
The security guards patrolling the floor nodded at Knox as he led her to the exit, through a boutique store, and over to a restaurant. He swung open the glass door and said, “After you, baby.”
With a thankful smile, she stepped inside. Silverware clinked, ice tinkled in glasses, and diners murmured and laughed softly. The people queuing near the hostess station probably would have snarled at her for skipping the line if she wasn’t with Knox, a guy moving with utter purpose like he had every right to be where he was; muscles flexing and bunching beneath his designer suit.
The hostess practically tripped over herself trying to get to him. “Mr. Thorne,” she purred. “Such a pleasant surprise. I’m Trisha.” The human’s eyes cut to Harper and flickered with perplexity, and she knew what the hostess was thinking: what was such a gorgeous, successful, lethally sensual male doing with a small, average-looking, casually dressed nobody?
Harper had often asked herself the same thing until she’d come to know him and realized that, though he may have enjoyed the company of beautiful women, he wasn’t at all shallow.
The hostess’s attention returned to Knox. “I’m assuming you’d like to be shown to your usual private room?” He merely inclined his head. Grabbing two menus, Trisha said, “Please follow me.”
The restaurant was just as elegant and tasteful as the hotel itself. Low-hanging lights. High-top tables. Soft music. Paintings lining the walls. And as always Harper felt out of place. It didn’t matter that she lived in a home even more opulent than this. It was still hard to be among these people and walk in their world. That was what it often felt like – another world.
The elegant feel of the restaurant continued into the private room. Trisha stood aside while Knox and Harper settled at the tastefully arranged table that could easily seat four people. A middle-aged male entered and bowed slightly to Knox and Harper, quite obviously a demon.
Trisha seemed surprised by the courtly gesture but simply said to Knox, “Charles will be your waiter for the evening. If there are any problems, don’t hesitate to ask for me.” Handing the menus to Knox and Harper, Trisha then added, “Enjoy your meal.”
Pen and pad in hand, Charles came forward. “Would you like to order a drink while you take time to read the menu?”
Knox looked at Harper. “Do you trust me?”
Without lifting her eyes from the menu, she replied, “In other words, will I let you pick the wine since I know nothing about it? Yes.”
“Good.”
Charles scribbled down the order Knox gave and left the room.
Knox then took out his cell phone and switched it off, wanting them to have uninterrupted time alone. “How’s your back?”
“A little stiff,” she replied. “Not as bad as it was this morning.”
“The more natural flying comes to you, the less it will be a strain on your muscles.”
“Can we have another lesson soon?”
“Sure. You impressed me with how hard you tried. I suppose I should have known how persistent you would be.” She was a sphinx, after all. They had the fierceness of a lion. “Ready to order yet?”
She snapped the menu shut. “Yep.”
“You want to skip starters and go straight for a steak,” he guessed.
“You know me so well.”
Moments later, Charles reappeared with the wine. Knox and Harper then placed their orders, and the waiter left. As Knox watched her fidget with the salt and pepper shakers, he said, “Something is bothering you. What is it?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Kellen won’t answer my calls.” She slumped in her chair. “I didn’t think he’d use me as a scapegoat the way Roan has.”
“I don’t think he’s using you as a scapegoat. Nor do I think he blames himself for not helping Carla. He most likely feels guilty.”
“For what?” she asked, smoothing her hands over the incredibly soft table cloth.
Knox picked up his glass and swished the wine. “He expressed to you on several occasions that he doesn’t particularly like Carla. Now she’s gone and she’s quite possibly hurt; he could be feeling guilty for all the things he said about her.”
