Chapter 47

• KLAUS
• "Alright, what's your favorite color, band, and sexual position?" I scowled at Flinn on the other side of the table from me. We were sipping champagne—real champagne, not prosecco—and nibbling a tasty flatbread with herbs and artichokes and honey poured over it.
• I had ordered steak for an entrée, and he had ordered a chicken salad. This was not a coffee shop by any means. It was a restaurant, and an expensive damn one. There were candles in between us, French ballads softly playing in the background, antique chandeliers.