my pay raise and bonus.”
The pieces clicked together, and I realized were I recognized him from. He’d been the emcee at the warehouse, and I’d made a throwaway comment about how he deserved more money for amping up the crowd.
I had no idea Maximo would actually do it.
“You did a good job drumming up last-minute bets,” I said.
Waving away my praise, Serrano shook his head. “Those rich assholes are all too happy to throw their money away.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “But if you want to tell Maximo I deserve an extra week of vacation and a company car, that’d work.”
“You have a company car,” Maximo pointed out.
“It’s almost two years old. Practically a Flintstones car.” He shot me a wink before going serious as he gave Maximo his attention. “Anything else you can think of?”
“No, we should be set. Call if there’s any issues.”
“There’s always issues.”
“Call for the big ones.” Maximo turned toward Ash. “All good?”
Ash lifted his chin. “Quiet day. You get my message?”
“I’ll make plans,” he said ambiguously before checking his watch. “Go eat and we’ll meet at Supermoon in two hours.”
With their orders, Ash, Marco, and Cole took off to the right, Miles went to the left, and Serrano walked down the way I’d come.
Turning me in his hold so I was facing him, Maximo tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’m so tempted to bring you up to the room, spank your ass until you can’t sit, and then fuck you until neither of us can move.”
I was right, talk was code for spank.
“But we need to eat. The rest will wait until later.” He studied me for a moment as he skimmed his fingers down my neck. “Glad you like that idea, too.”
I didn’t bother denying it. Because even if I swore the pain sounded horrendous, the coil of need that tightened low in my belly said otherwise.
“I set reservations at the French restaurant, but we can switch to Asian or— “
“French is good,” I answered instantly, my mind on bread.
Putting his palm to my lower back, Maximo steered me to a glass elevator. We rode it to the second floor and got off.
Like the downstairs, the long path was lined with stores and drink stands. We kept going until we reached a set of etched doors. Maximo opened one, holding it so I could enter first.
The interior of the restaurant was much different than the exterior, with brick walls, exposed wood beams, matching tables, and red chairs. Only a few subtle moons and wrought iron details tied in the Moonlight theme.
It was reminiscent of a French bistro—or what TV and movies portrayed one to be.
Bypassing the long line of people waiting, we approached the podium.
“Mr. Black,” a woman in a sleek suit greeted, already standing at the ready with two menus in hand. “Right this way.”
We followed her to a table against the floor to ceiling window. It overlooked a courtyard filled with palm trees and twinkle lights. Once we sat, she handed us the menus emblazoned with the name Parisian Crescent. “Liz will be right with you.”
She wasn’t kidding because no sooner had she stepped away did the server take her place.
Wide-eyed and terrified, her voice shook. “Good evening, I’m Liz. May I start you off with something to drink?”
“Just water for me, please,” I said with a smile I hoped was reassuring.
“Club soda with lime, please,” Maximo said, not looking up from his menu.
She nodded and rushed away like someone had lit a fire under her ass.
I watched her go, surprised she didn’t just continue out the door to get away from Maximo. “Do you always inspire terror?”
“If I have my way.”
Which meant yes because he always had his way.
“Isn’t there some saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar?” I asked.
“I don’t want to catch flies. I want competent employees who do shit my way. Call me a bastard, an asshole, or even,” his lips tipped, “a control freak. Their terror means I’ve made the expectations and consequences clear.”
Thinking about the consequence I had coming my way later, I shifted in my chair.
Maximo didn’t miss it. “Do I inspire terror in you, little dove?”
Swallowing hard, I admitted, “Sometimes.”
“Smart girl,” he rumbled, his eyes going hooded as he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip.
I was beginning to recognize that was his tell.
And it told me he was thinking very naughty thoughts.
Before I could ask what they were, Liz approached with our drinks. “Have you decided what