“You’re being very good.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Terrifying.”
“You haven’t pointed out my caffeine intake once. Or asked what I had for breakfast.”
His gaze flicked to my empty plate. “I can see what you had for dinner.”
“Vince.”
He exhaled. “We’ll do the checklist after dessert. I’m trying not to interrogate you before we get to the romantic portion.”
“You think telling me there’s a scheduled interrogation later helps.”
“It’s honest. And you agreed to honesty, baby.”
Dom logic. Annoying and weirdly comforting.
I set my fork down. “You know you don’t have to… do all of this, right?”
“All of what.”
“The candles. The plates. The…date.” I gestured vaguely around us. “You don’t have to perform normal with me. I know what I signed up for.”
His jaw flexed. “You signed up for me.”
“Exactly. And you live in war rooms and boardrooms and clubs that smell like spilled vodka. You don’t date.”
His eyes held mine for a second too long.
There it was. That little hit of guilt.
“I don’t. I never wanted to.” His thumb ran along the edge of his glass. “And then some brat decided to kneel in my shower and tell me she liked when I told her what to do, and suddenly I’m Googling ‘how to cook something that isn’t steak’ at three in the morning.”
My face went hot. “Vince.”
“I can’t take you out. Not the way you deserve. Can’t do restaurants or theatres or whatever the hell normal people do. I have enemies. You have dynasties. Paparazzi exist. If anyone sees us together before I’m ready to nail my intentions to the wall, they’re going to aim at you first. So you get this instead. Four walls and my security system and me hoping it’s enough.”
The words landed heavier than I expected.
He wasn’t wrong.
We both knew what dynasties did when they smelled leverage. Me on his arm in public was a political act, not a romance montage. His enemies? They’d go straight for the girl he’d made soft and obedient. It was whatIwould do, looking at him from outside.
I sat there, candlelight flickering between us, and realised, he wasn’t just nervous about the date. He was guilty he couldn’t do it “right.”
“Vince. Look at me.”
He did. His frown deepened.
“This is enough. More than enough. It’s… perfect, actually. No one has to pretend not to see us. I don’t have to hold my shoulders at the exact angle that looks powerful but not threatening. I can eat. You can obsess. It’s very on brand.”
A reluctant huff escaped him. “You deserve people seeing you with someone who’s proud of you.”
“I have that. You just hide it under all the growling.”
His mouth curved despite himself. “You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re overthinking. I don’t care about restaurants. I care about you being here when I step out of the elevator. That you tried. That you…” My gaze drifted to the candles. “That you did this even though it makes you uncomfortable.”
