I slid into the backseat, and he closed the door behind me. I exhaled and melted. DaVinci had been here recently, and his scent made my thoughts scatter. It lingered and stayed wherever he went, and I loved that shit. I loved a confident man who smelled good, left an impression, and he did this shit with minimal effort.
“Where are we going?” I asked as Langston pulled away from the curb.
“You’ll see,” he said, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. “But I think you’ll like it.”
I settled back into the seat and watched the city pass by outside the window. I decided I wouldn’t ask any more questions so I wouldn’t ruin the surprise. My phone buzzed again.
My One and Only:I can’t wait to see you.
Me:Langston just picked me up, and you saw me two days ago.
My One and Only:Two days too long.
Me:You’re doing a lot, you know that?
My One and Only:You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.
The car slowed, and I looked up to see where we were. It wasn’t hard to tell we were downtown Silverrun. This was the part of the city where restaurants were expensive and people dressed to impress.
And then I saw the sign.
Ignite.
But above the entrance, strung in elegant lights, was another sign:A Special Date for an Angel.
My heart did that stupid flutter thing again.
“He didn’t,” I whispered.
“He did,” Langston confirmed, pulling up to the curb. “And that’s not even the best part.”
He came around, opened my door, and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. The restaurant was dark except for the warm glow coming frominside. A “Private Event” sign hung on the door, and through the windows, I could see candles flickering.
The door opened before I could reach for it.
DaVinci stood there, and the first thing I noticed was his sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off those tattoos on his forearms. Everything else—the all-black fit, the gold gleaming at his waist and neck, that fresh fade—just confirmed what I already knew. This man came to make an impression, even down to the Versace loafers. I liked that he could do it all. Suits,
He didn't say anything at first.
Just looked at me.
His hand came up to rub across his mouth like he needed a second to get himself together.
“Damn girl,” he said quietly, then louder issued the command I didn’t realize I wanted, “Come.”
My body moved before my brain caught up, walking toward him in these heels felt like I was being pulled by a string. When I got close enough, he reached out and took my hand. Hand in hand, he guided me inside and closed the door behind us. The lock clicked, letting me know the night had begun.
“Hi,” I managed.
“Hi.” His voice was lower than usual, rougher. He still hadn’t let go of my hand. “You know you wrong for wearing this dress, right?”
“What’s wrong with my dress?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.” His eyes traveled down slowly—throat, chest, hips, legs—then back up. “You look incredible. I knew you would, but damn, Angel.”
Heat crept up my neck. “You clean up nice yourself.”
“Yeah?” He turned me slowly, a complete circle, his hand steady on mine. When I faced him again, something had shifted in his expression. “Take off your coat. Let me see you.”
