Gathering her failing courage, she opened the door and went inside. A young woman dressed in a white blouse and black skirt was at the maître d' stand. "May I help you?"
"Um, yes. I was supposed to meet someone here for dinner. Vane Kattalakis."
The girl looked over her ledger. "I'm sorry, we don't have a reservation for anyone by that name."
Bride's heart sank. "Are you sure?"
The woman turned the ledger to face her. "It's with alright?"
Bride scanned the names. Her stomach tightened even more when she spotted a familiar name.
Taylor Winthrop.
She wanted to die right there in the foyer. Brennan's was her favorite restaurant and Taylor had refused to bring her here. He'd always said it was too pricey for him and that he couldn't see spending that kind of money on a single meal.
What he'd meant was that he didn't want to spend it on her.
She was a fool.
"Thank you," Bride said, stepping away. She balled her hands up in her shawl as she debated what she should do.
All of a sudden, she felt like she was fifteen again, waiting for her prom date to show.
He never had.
He'd found someone else to take and hadn't even bothered to tell her. She'd learned about it the next day from a friend. And when Tabitha had found out, she'd put liquid heat in the guy's jockstrap and a poison-ivy potion in his underwear.
Bride loved Tabitha to this day for that.
But there was no Tabitha here tonight to make it better. Surely Vane wouldn't be so cruel.
Would he?
Had this all been some kind of set-up?
No. He'd be here.
Her stomach in knots, she waited a full ten minutes before the door opened. Bride turned, hoping to see Vane. Instead, it was Taylor with a tall, black-haired woman. She wasn't overly pretty, but the woman had the body of a brick house.
Taylor pulled up short the instant he saw her.
Bride derived a small, evil bit of satisfaction to see that he had a black eye from his earlier encounter with Vane.
He raked her with a sneer. "Meeting your parents here, Bride?"
"No," she said. "I'm waiting for my date."
He leaned over and whispered something in the woman's ear. She looked at Bride and laughed.
At that moment, Bride felt so small that it was all she could do not to run from the restaurant. But she refused to give him the satisfaction.
A male maître d' approached from the back of the restaurant. "May I help you, sir?"
"Yes, we have a reservation for two for Taylor Winthrop. And make sure you give us a romantic, secluded table."
The maître d' checked his name off the list and nodded. "It'll be just a few minutes, Mr. Winthrop."
Taylor passed the man a tip. The maître d' turned to her. "May I help you, madam?"
She felt her face heat up. "There was a mix-up with our reservations. I'm just waiting for my date to arrive."
The man nodded again while Taylor laughed at her.
"That's what happens when you date losers," he said to the woman with him.
Bride's first instinct was to return the insult, but in truth she felt sorry for Taylor's trophy date. The poor woman had no idea what a snake she was dining with.
She just hoped the woman never found out.
Bride pulled her shawl up higher over her shoulders and felt three times more self-conscious. Of course, it didn't help that Taylor and his date kept looking over at her, whispering and then laughing.
She wanted to die.
Just as she was about to leave, the door finally opened and in came Vane.
He was devastating. Dressed in a black Armani suit, he had left his black shirt open at the collar, showing off the powerful tendons of his tanned neck. The ebony color really brought out the green of his eyes. His dark, wavy hair hung loose, and his face was freshly shaved.
He'd never looked more dangerous. More appealing.
Sexier.
Bride heard Taylor's date suck her breath in sharply at the sight of him.
She half-expected Vane to look at the woman. He didn't. He had eyes only for her.
He made his way straight to her side, placing his large warm hands on her shoulders and kissing her lightly on the cheek. She melted instantly as she inhaled the masculine scent of him and his aftershave.
It was all she could do not to purr.
"Why are you waiting at the door?" he asked as he pulled back slightly.
"We don't have reservations."
Vane scowled at her. "I never have reservations. I don't need them." He took her hand and led her over to the counter.
The maître d' appeared instantly. "Mr. Kattalakis," he said, smiling. "It's so good to see you again."
"Hi, Henri," Vane said, placing his arm around Bride's waist. "Is my table ready?"
The smile faded as Henri's gaze went to Bride. He turned instantly contrite. "Oh, I didn't realize she was your date. She said…" He turned to Bride. "Madam, please accept my deepest apologies that you were kept waiting. Was it Tiffany who left you standing here unseated? She's new, but I will have her instantly reprimanded for it."