Hold Me (Finding Free #5) - A.M. Arthur Page 0,111
blue tie with narrow stripes of light blue. And a pair of shiny shoes.
The shop let him wear his purchases out, and he was on-time pulling up at the Jenks house at five-thirty. Rebel was meeting Symon there, and Karson was hanging out to have dinner with his family. Several faces gaped from the front windows as the driver opened the back door and allowed Symon and Rebel inside.
“What’s going on, dude?” Symon asked as he settled on the plush seats. “I’ve never even stood by a limo, much less ridden in one.”
“Spending my credit.” Hyatt handed him a flute of champagne. “Cheers.”
“I thought you were nervous about it being taken away?”
“Not anymore.” He gulped his own glass. The sharp bubbles tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze. Then he tapped on the privacy window, and the driver headed toward their next destination.
“You bought a suit?” Rebel asked. He glanced down at his own simple outfit of slacks and a pressed blue shirt. “Am I underdressed?”
“Probably, but this place has jackets and ties you can borrow.”
“Where are we eating?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Hyatt settled in with his champagne, and he was not disappointed by his brothers’ reactions when the limo pulled up outside the famous Bartoga Bistro, one of the most prestigious restaurants in the province. The place required reservations but Hyatt had taken great joy in dropping Monte Porter’s name as a family friend, and by some miracle he’d gotten a table. He’d been prepared to mention Dorian, too, but the Fowler name hadn’t reclaimed its reputation yet.
Dorian was working on that though. Maybe one day he wouldn’t be as ashamed of his surname anymore.
Inside the entrance, a polite beta host helped Symon and Rebel select jackets and ties so they met the restaurant’s dress code. The décor was understated, nothing ostentatious or screaming of wealth, with the tables a comfortable distance apart. Live plants here and there, soft lighting, and gentle background music to help keep private conversations private. Their trio definitely stuck out among the older men seated all around them.
The host led them to a table near the rear, and Hyatt had never seen so many forks or spoons in one place setting before. Fuck it, if he did it wrong, he did it wrong. This was about treating himself and his brothers to things they never would have indulged in before. The way Dorian had indulged Hyatt during their first date.
They offered a set menu, so Hyatt perused the offerings on the table card in front of him. But he didn’t have any food allergies. Symon had developed a slight allergy to shellfish—or he’d discovered he had one, as he’d tried more kinds of food since living in the Jenks house—so he asked for the soup course to be substituted for a vegetable consommé.
Rebel’s eyes threatened to pop out of his head. “I’ve never heard of half this stuff,” he said.
“That’s why this is so special,” Hyatt replied. He’d also pre-ordered a bottle of expensive wine, which their server promptly brought over and began to pour. Symon stared, transfixed by the sight, and Hyatt internally cheered. His brothers deserved this and more.
Once the server left to collect their first course, Symon asked, “Okay, so what you said in the limo about knowing the credit won’t be revoked. How do you know? Because you sounded absolutely certain. Like, bet your life sure.”
“I am certain.” Hyatt swirled his wine in the glass like he’d seen on TV, but he wasn’t entirely sure what that did. But it looked fancy. “The transfers came from Dorian.”
Rebel nearly knocked his own glass over, expression going from bewildered to openly suspicious. “Why? To buy your affection and our trust?”
“No, the transfers happened before the fundraiser where Dorian and I realized we were bonded. He said it was a gesture from his family to us, to try and make up for all the horrible things we’ve lived through, and I believe him. But I was angry and upset that he’d kept it a secret for so long, instead of telling me the truth, especially after we agreed to mate. I haven’t spoken to him since this morning when he told me.”
“So all that money is really ours?” Symon asked. “I could go out and buy a house for me and—for myself?”
Hyatt didn’t miss the slip. “For me and? You and who, young man?”
The tops of Symon’s cheeks flushed. The server bought him some time by delivering their first course and describing some