The Beast Within (The Elite Series) - By Jonathan Yanez Page 0,20
chose the veal on Cyril’s recommendation, cooked medium well, and Laren opted for her favorite, a shank of lamb prepared rare. With orders memorized, Cyril disappeared.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re spoiling me; surprise runs in the forest, dinners fit for a king, what’s next—a trip to Europe? A race around the Autobahn?”
“I just want to show you how much I appreciate you and—how much I like you.”
Connor was a bit taken back with her honesty but he decided to do the same. “Laren, can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I feel drawn to you. It’s more than just feelings or lust or passion, it’s—it’s like an instinct. I don’t know. Maybe I should have gathered my thoughts before I said anything. Am I making sense at all?”
Laren smiled, her eyes looking into his and showing a wisdom well beyond her years. “It does, Connor, and I feel the same way. I haven’t been able to figure it out, and well, I’ve been too scared to recognize what it might mean.”
“And what’s that?”
She shifted her eyes down and Connor knew exactly what was running through her mind. “It’s your family, isn’t it?”
“It’s that, but so much more.”
Connor reached across the table and held her slender hand. “Laren, it doesn’t matter. I’ll win over your family. They’ll understand.”
Laren gave him a sad smile. “You’re a great guy, Connor. I don’t want to drag you into this.”
“Is it still considered dragging if I jump in feet first?”
Before they could continue the conversation, Cyril appeared with their first course.
To say the food was delicious that night would be doing it an injustice. The food was phenomenal. The salad was crisp, the soup spiced just right, and the main course was to die for. The night’s conversation turned into laughter and soon the two lost themselves in each other’s company.
Later that night, Connor decided to take a chance and see if Laren would be open to talking more about herself and her family. “So, how are negotiations going with Randolph?”
Laren’s eyes flashed surprise but soon her expression turned into a smile. “So you’re not just a pretty face.” Pausing, she once again chose her words carefully. “The deal is going horribly. He won’t budge and is insistent the land should belong to him.”
Connor nodded; from his limited experience with Randolph, this didn’t surprise him. “So if negotiations fail, what’s the next move?”
“Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but my father has given orders not to waiver in our course, so the ball is really in their court. We hold the land, they won’t negotiate, so it’s their move.”
“Does Randolph also work with his family business?”
She nodded.
While Connor continued to piece things together, Cyril appeared once again, this time carrying a decadent piece of chocolate cake. “I hope it is appropriate. I took the liberty of choosing the dessert for tonight. It is a three-layer cake. The first layer is chocolate peanut butter, the second dark chocolate truffle, and the third is a light milk chocolate. In between the three layers are a French fudge and it is covered in the restaurant’s renowned chocolate syrup.”
Laren’s and Connor’s eyes practically popped out of their heads as they stared at the behemoth of a cake.
“I know, I know. It isn’t the most traditional of French desserts, but I thought you would enjoy it. Please, please don’t be shy,” Cyril insisted as he produced two clean forks.
Not requiring any more of an invitation, both Connor and Laren threw calorie counting to the wind and attacked the chocolate mound of goodness.
“Mmmmm,” was all Laren said.
“I think I can die a happy man,” Connor agreed.
“Ahhh, ha, perfect,” Cyril replied. “Please enjoy.”
He left the two with their task at hand. A few minutes of silence passed between the couple and soon the cake was reduced to crumbs. Cyril appeared again just as the two put down their forks, making Connor wonder if he was just sitting somewhere watching them.
“I am glad the cake was agreeable, yes? Again, Miss Abelardus, it is such a pleasure, please come back soon.” Turning to Connor, he continued, “And you, sir, don’t let this woman out of your sight. She is a keeper.”
“I won’t,” Connor said, looking at Laren.
“Cyril, what about the check? You never brought it,” Laren said with alarm, pulling out her purse.
Cyril looked at her, stunned. “Miss Abelardus, please, this is on the house.”
“Cyril, I’m afraid that is much too kind and I must insist.”