Page 12 of You'll Be the Death of Me

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, and quickly closed it. He’d flipped it shut so the back cover was on top. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked, oddly, like a textbook.

“Are you studying for a test?” she joked.

He gave her a smile and then changed topic. “How was lunch with Mama de Vil?”

She arched an eyebrow at him with a frown. “Is that supposed to be a play on Cruella de Vil?”

He shrugged. “Needs work.”

Dell sighed. “It was fine, until a small pack of constituents waiting outside the restaurant accosted us with questions.”

“So goes life on the arm of a public figure.”

She smirked at him, but only half-heartedly. She’d had the same thought earlier when she and Tommy escaped the whole scene in their getaway car.

“What’s he doing now?” she asked in an effort not to think about it.

“Still chewing. Op! He just swallowed. Would you like to know when he gets up to go to the bathroom too?”

She softly punched him in the shoulder. “I’m going to go back into the kitchen.”

“You do that. I’ll be here.”

Dell wound her way back through the dining room, doing her best not to side-eye Pierrick Moreau the whole way. Jason was right: He was chewing and occasionally swallowing.

The kitchen only made her more anxious. It felt like everyone was collectively holding their breath. Dell felt the weight of it allsince she hadmade Pierrick Moreau’s dinner. Everyone was depending on her.

She soothed her stress by hiding in the fridge and bingeing a sample of Sasha’s pistachio gelato, which Oscar gave her as remedy. It was indeed damn fine.

“He’s done!” Lauren eventually appeared to breathlessly announce.

Dell guzzled the glass of wine Simon had brought her—he surely would have fainted at her disrespect of it—and took another breath before reentering the dining room. Her heart beat like a drum as she approached Pierrick Moreau’s table.

He used his crisp white napkin to dab his lips, which were stained slightly red from the same wine she’d just downed in angst. He looked up at her with little expression before he said, simply, “Exquisite.”

The urge to throw herself at him in an appreciative hug hit Dell hard. She held back and instead politely nodded.

“Thank you.”

He lifted his near-empty wineglass in salute, and Dell walked away feeling like she’d passed a test.

She had. Another gold star.

She gave Jason a discreet thumbs-up and waited until she was back in the safety of the kitchen before she threw up her arms and announced, “?‘Exquisite!’?”

Her staff erupted in cheers that she bashfully tried to quiet so as not to disturb the dining room or let on just how much Pierrick Moreau had made her night.

By 10:30 p.m., the last table was cleared, and Dell was exhausted. Simon had popped a bottle of champagne, of which she’d had plenty, and it was time to head home. Jason dropped her off, and Tommy greeted her when she walked through the front door.

He lounged on the couch in his pajama pants, watching a late-night show. He immediately sat up when she walked in. “And?” he eagerly asked.

Dell sauntered toward the couch, coyly biting her lip and imagining running her hands all over his bare chest. She quietly hummed a laugh before she said, “?‘Exquisite.’?”

Tommy leaped from the couch and scooped her into a hug. Her feet left the floor as he spun them around.

“Oh, baby, that’s great! I’m so proud of you.” He set her down, and the room kept spinning.

“Thank you,” she said, and took a moment to press her hand into his chest. She suggestively tapped her fingers against his collarbone.