Chapter 20

Marc drove, escorting Sinead down to the parking structure under his loft building and opening the car door for her. She was wearing her leather jacket over the dress, which he was happy to see worked as he’d suspected and looked stylish. Getting her a whole new coat or jacket to go with the dress seemed overkill.

Sinead seemed nervous and quiet during the ride - not in a timid way, but in a focused one. Her dress rode up a little sitting in the passenger seat, exposing a good deal of her thighs, but Marc limited himself to a couple of glances. He pulled right up to George and got out, coming around the car as the valet opened the door for Sinead. He got there in time to offer the redhead his arm to help her stand, and she took it. Dropping the keys with the valet, along with the twenty as a pre-tip for the service, he escorted Sinead into the restaurant. They were met at the front by Sophie, the maitre d’ who had arranged his last-minute reservation, and he noticed that she raised an eyebrow seeing him accompanied by someone other than Felicity.

Still, she began leading Marc and his ‘date’ towards his usual preferred table but he hesitated to follow as Sinead put a hand on his arm.

“We need to sit over there,” Sinead whispered, nodding towards the far end of the restaurant.

“Sophie,” Marc called quietly. “Would it be possible to move to the east side of the dining room?”

Sophie came back to the host stand, checking the reservations quickly. “That can be arranged, Monsieur Fornier.” Marc could tell by the gleam in her eye that Sophie was definitely intrigued by the changes to Marc’s usual desires. He certainly didn’t patronize George on a weekly or bi-weekly basis, but once every month or two was certainly enough that the highly trained staff knew of his usual wants and needs.

“Thank you,” Sinead whispered quietly to Marc as they followed Sophie through the restaurant. It was the middle of their service time, so the place was about two-thirds full and likely to reach capacity within the next half hour.

“Merci, Sophie,” Marc said as she presented them with a table. He quickly palmed a twenty into her hand as he shook it with both of his and then stepped around to pull out a chair for Sinead. She sat, and Marc slipped into the seat across from her. “Have I mentioned that you look radiant, Sinead?” he asked. “Comme le soleil qui perce à travers les nuages.”

Sinead gave a little grimace of a smile as her eyes flicked to the table next to theirs where three men were sitting. “You know I’m not fluent,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re saying when you speak that quickly.”

Marc smiled to himself. “I suspected,” he said. “But that makes complimenting you all the more fun.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at the other table again.

“Is that?” Marc asked, trying not to draw attention while keeping his voice at a normal speaking level.

The Detective nodded.

Marc took his own surreptitious glance. Of the three men, one was white and the other two were darker skinned. The white man seemed to be in his mid-thirties, with what Marc judged to be an Eastern European look to him, maybe from somewhere in the Balkans. He wore a decent suit, though it could use a little tailoring to fit him properly, and had the beginnings of a widow’s peak forming that Marc had a feeling the man would fight as long as he could. The two other men were both black, one wearing his hair in dreadlocks arranged into a neat tail, while the other was bald with his scalp polished until it reflected the light. From the sound of their accents, they were from the Caribbean, maybe Jamaica.

“So a good table, then?” Marc asked with a grin.

“Very,” Sinead said and shot him a thankful look.

The sommelier approached, and Marc smiled as he greeted the man, then glanced across at Sinead again. “Do you mind if I order for us, Sinead? I think I have a good sense of what you might enjoy.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Surprise me,” she agreed.

Marc smiled and turned, ordering in French.