A slimy smile. “That’s between me and your father. But you’d be worth any price.”

“I told you, I’m not for sale.”

The sommelier appeared and showed Antoine the wine. The man poured the red and Antoine tasted it. Harlow tried to get a grip on her out-of-control emotions.

Their server appeared and they ordered their meals.

The sooner this was over, the better.

“So, what do you do, Harlow?”

He was talking like they were out on a date. “I’m an executive assistant.”

Antoine held his wine and swirled the red liquid around the glass. “You like it?”

“I love it.”

“Taking care of other people’s needs?” He sounded dubious.

She sniffed. “I love being organized, efficient, and damn good at my job.” She scanned the restaurant. She’d always wanted to come here, and now Antoine had ruined it for her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a small group enter—three men in suits, and a woman in a sexy, fitted black dress that Harlow had seen in the Chanel collection and coveted.

The woman laughed, a husky sound. She was tall and slender, and the dress was fabulous on her. She smiled at the man beside her.

The man was sauntering through the tables like he owned the place. A liquid way of moving, in complete control of his body.

Harlow froze. She knew that walk.

Easton turned his head, gracing the woman with a smile.

Damn. With everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten his business dinner with the team of lawyers from Peregrine Corp was here. How the hell could she have made this mistake?

The woman looked like she’d be happy to do anything for Easton.

Much like Harlow had on that conference table.

Her hands clenched on her glass. Screw it. She needed a sip of wine to make it through this.

She grabbed the wine glass and gulped. She covertly watched Easton’s party get seated. Not too close, but not as far away from her table as she’d like.

If he saw her…

God, clearly, she was being punished by the universe.

Easton was sitting in profile to her. She slumped a little in her chair.

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t listening to me, lovely Harlow?” Antoine’s voice was a silky drawl.

She glanced back at Antoine. “Because I’m not.”

His cold eyes flashed. “I like a little sass and feistiness, Harlow, but don’t push it.”

A skitter of ice ran down her spine. “Well, I’m not going to ask you what you do. I’ve no interest in criminal activities.”

“I’m a businessman.”

“I work for people in real business. You’re no businessman.”

Antoine sat back in his chair. “I also enjoy art, black-and-white movies, and collecting antique weapons.”

She looked out the window. “This is not a date.”