Obey Me by Paige Cuccaro Read Free Book Online Page A

the better tables. Those in the loft’s more intimate setting or down here on the main floor right next to the window. The design was such that when I leaned my forehead against the glass, I could see the rocky mountainside all the way to the river. Couldn’t get that from the loft.
    The maitre d’ bowed. “Mr. Perrotte will be with you shortly.” I smiled, nodded, and he turned on his heel, heading back to his post at the door.
    I’m not the sort who can’t sit alone at a restaurant or go to a movie by myself, but sitting there at the center of the huge window wall, I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d been lit by a spotlight. Sideways glances, whispered conversations and not-so-subtle points made me feel as though everyone at Sinners restaurant knew I’d been summoned here tonight. Like they knew there was more behind the invitation Mr. Perrotte had sent than the cocktails and fine dining it offered.
    Or maybe I was just being paranoid. But instinct tickled across my shoulders, fight or flight urges tingling through my thighs. This was a mistake.
    “Sophie.” I flinched when I heard the soft baritone voice behind my shoulder. “You’re not at all what I expected. I’m Octavius Perrotte. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    He wasn’t what I had expected either, though I’m not sure what exactly I had expected. But a twenty-something dark-haired hottie was not it. He was short for a man, maybe five-five, five-six, and stocky like a wrestler. His tan suit fit loosely, as was the style, the jacket buttoning low near his navel. His shirt was the kind that didn’t need a tie, but instead had a stiff banded collar for a clean, finished look.
    I shook the hand he offered and noted how small and frail mine looked engulfed by his. He smiled, and the sentiment lit his blue eyes. The color was startling, so much so it was hard not to stare, the brilliant blue made more intense set against the frame of his jet black hair. He wore his hair trimmed short, longer on top, brushed back from his forehead so the shorter strands spiked, giving him a young-businessman look.
    Our waiter pulled out his chair and Octavius sat, his gaze never leaving me. “Forgive my staring but your hair is so short. I assumed Alexander was too old-world to be attracted to such a modern hairstyle on a woman. In our day, there were few reasons a woman would cut her hair and none of them good.”
    My hand went to finger the fringes of my hair along my neck. “It’s easy to take care of.”
    He shook his head, brows creasing. “No. Of course. I’m sorry. You’re lovely. Really. You’re hair is perfect. I’m just surprised. It seems my old friend has changed more over the years than I realized.”
    The waiter held a menu out to me. I glanced at the single stiff sheet and noticed a small tattoo on the man’s inner wrist when his sleeve hiked up—an “X” like the Roman numeral ten.
    “Thank you.” I took the menu. The writing was the same fancy scroll as on the invitation and artfully covered both sides.
    “May I take your drink orders while you decide?” the waiter said.
    I glanced at Octavius and then to the waiter. “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”
    “Priceless.” Octavius’ smile broadened. He spoke to the waiter though his gaze stayed fixed on me. “Fetch a bottle from my private cellar, Tony. One of the Romanée-Contis. Thank you.”
    A quick bow and Tony scampered off…to fetch .
    “How did you even know that I knew Alex?” I asked. “I mean, I only met him last night.”
    “An employee of mine. He was…running an errand, and he mentioned seeing you. Said you had Alexander’s rapt attention. I must admit,” he said eyeing me as though he could see more than what my skimpy dress revealed, “I can understand why.”
    “Oh. Right.” Awkward . “So…Romanée-Conti, is that good?” Smooth topic switch.
    “It’s French.”
    “Ah.” I nodded like that meant something. What’d I know? Most of the wine