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The hostess made a tight smile. “Because of the nature of the business that is often conducted here, we must maintain the strictest level of privacy for our customers.”

“Seriously?”

The hostess held out a box, similar to a safe deposit box at the bank. Not that she’d ever used one, but she’d seen enough on TV. Jeannie set her phone inside and closed the lid.

“It’ll be waiting for you when you leave. Follow me.” The hostess guided Jeannie to an empty table by the window. They passed the bar as they walked, and Jeanniedidn’t miss the leer she received from the sleazy bartender. She rolled her eyes. Men were the same everywhere.

Jeannie scanned the room, noticing that all the tables were empty, which seemed a little odd. Maybe the food was terrible. She sighed. This had to be karma for telling Shane she’d had food poisoning. Now she would get it for real.

“Mr. Crawford had an urgent matter come up, but he will be here shortly. He said to start you with this.” The hostess motioned toward a bottle of Dom Perignon.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Jeannie said, laughing. “I’ll wait as long as I need to. But do you think I could get some bread sticks or something?” She’d had dinner ages ago, so she needed something in her stomach to keep from getting drunk. That wasn’t the best look for a job interview.

“Of course.” The hostess turned and walked away.

Jeannie took a sip of the champagne. That was way better than the twelve-dollar bottle she usually bought from the grocery store. As she stared at the bustling city life below, she was reminded of parasailing with Al. Was he engaged yet? She checked her watch. Probably already celebrating.

She slapped a palm across her forehead. Marina had asked her to Facetime the finale. She reached into her pocket and groaned. Right. Her phone was locked up with the hostess. What a stupid rule. Well, maybe it wasn’t stupid, but it sure seemed stupid when she was the only onein the restaurant. Whose secrets was she going to blab? She sighed and poured herself another glass. Maybe she’d take the job so she could drink free champagne. As she downed the second glass, a pleasant buzz filled her body. Where were those breadsticks?

***

“Jeannie! It is so good to see you again.” Victor’s voice boomed through the empty restaurant.

About time he showed up. It was almost ten thirty, add that to the champagne and stress over Al, and she was ready to crawl into her hotel bed and call it a night. Only, she’d be crawling into that bed alone, and Al would be crawling into his with—

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My artist tonight was in the zone, and we never cut a session short when that happens.”

“Oh, of course not. I completely understand.” What she didn’t understand was why this interview couldn’t wait until tomorrow when the sun was shining.

“How’s the champagne?”

“Delicious,” she answered honestly. “But I am a little hungry.” That hostess had never brought her any bread. And she hadn’t seen a waiter either, come to think of it. She would have loved to order an appetizer.

Victor waved a hand to the bartender. “Adam, make Jeannie a Victor special, please.”

“Coming right up boss,” the bartender said.

Victor turned back to Jeannie. “I created a special drink for my female clients. It’s very sweet and fruity. You’ll love it.”

Jeannie scrunched her nose. Sexist, much? The last thing she needed was another drink, especially a misogynistic one, but damn, if she didn’t love a fruity cocktail.

“I’m sure it’ll be great. In fact, I’d love to take a picture. Oh wait, I don’t have my phone,” she teased. At least, she hoped it came across as teasing. Her resting bitch face probably said otherwise. She’d could have gotten through another five levels in Candy Crush while she was waiting for him.

“Now, now. That policy is there for a reason. Imagine what our rival firms would do if they saw a picture of us meeting with one of their clients?”

“Oh, right,” Jeannie said. “I guess you aren’t allowed to poach?”

Victor chuckled. “We most definitely are. It’s how this industry works. But if they find out we are poaching before we ink a deal, they throw all kinds of cash and incentives, and we have to up our offer. You understand, I’m sure.”

“Totally,” Jeannie nodded, taking a sip of the Victor Special that the bartender had dropped off. She didn’tunderstand, though. She’d never stolen a client or had one stolen from her. Or had she? Was that why so many clients had dropped her? Because someone else had poached them? Fire raged through her veins. She needed to get back to Grimm and find out who was stealing her clients. Or maybe not. Maybe it was a sign.

“I spent the last couple of hours learning about Vizier Records. What would you like to know about me?” She was eager to get the interview rolling so she could leave.

Victor smiled. “Oh please, it’s been so long since we last met. Let’s enjoy ourselves before we get to business.” He nodded toward her drink. “Have some more.”

Something in his tone caused Jeannie to pause, and that was the final straw. She’d seen enough. The tour had been great, and it had been fun to imagine a different life for a few hours. But she wasn’t cut out for late night meetings and dinners without food. Or bosses with special drinks.

The drink was delicious, of course. But it was going straight to her head. In fact, damn. What had he put in this thing? Everclear? She blinked as her vision blurred.