He laughed and kept a hold on me as we walked inside.
Le Flambeauwasn’t your basic steakhouse like Ruth’s Chris—it exuded an old-money vibe. Dim lighting cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors. Warm wood paneling wrapped around the room, and faint notes of jazz music floated in the background.
“Ah, Mr. Banks,” the host greeted us warmly. He was an older white man with thin brown hair slicked back into a ponytail. “So happy to have you back. Your usual table is ready.” He clapped his hands together, turning to lead the way.
Cash placed a hand on the small of my back as we followed. Looking around, I noticed the restaurant was completely empty. There were no other guests and no servers moving between tables. Just us.
“Cash, why is no one here?” I whispered.
“Because I rented it out for a private dinner,” he said with a sly grin. “Surprise.”
The host led us to a secluded booth in the back.
“Carlton will be serving you tonight. Enjoy,” he said with a slight bow before leaving.
I turned to Cash. “You booked out the entire restaurant? Why?”
“One because, I knew how good you’d look in that dress—and I’d hate to shoot a motherfucker on our first date,” he said, his gaze lingering on me. “Two, because I can.”
I took a moment to really look at him. It should’ve been illegal for someone to look this good. His black ribbed silk shirt hugged his chest, showing off the tattoos snaking down his arm like art. And his cream slacks were too perfect to be off the rack. The combination of the Patek on his wrist and the thin gold chain around his neck screamed money and power.
“You showing out tonight, huh?” I teased, picking up the menu.
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m tryna show you I’m serious,” Cash said, sliding his hand onto my thigh.
“Serious about what? You don’t even know me for real,” I replied, trying to ignore the heat blooming through me from his touch.
“So, tell me about you then.”
“There’s nothing really to tell,” I chuckled, setting the menu down. “I’m a travel nurse. Been here a few months. This contract ends soon and I haven’t decided if I’m staying or going home.”
“Where’s home? You from up north?” he asked.
I frowned. “Up north?”
“New York,” he clarified.
“Queens, born and raised.”
“I knew I wasn’t trippin’ when I heard that accent.”
Carlton smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Banks. Always a pleasure,” he turned to me. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a glass of the rosé,” I said.
“And your usual, Mr. Banks?” Carlton asked. Cash nodded.
As soon as he stepped away, I couldn’t help myself.
“Your usual, Mr. Banks?” I mimicked in a faux-posh accent. “Damn, how often do you come here? And why does everyone know you? You the unofficial mayor of Atlanta or something?”
Cash smirked. “When shit isn’t hectic, maybe once a month. But yeah—my name rings bells out here.”
“Hm,” I hummed, pretending to look over the menu again.
“Hm, what?” He watched me closely. “Why you acting shy when we both know you got a slick mouth?”
“How freely can I speak?” I raised an eyebrow.
