I smile, unlocking the car. "Tonight's about the two of us. I told them to take the evening off."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, what a gentleman."
I chuckle, opening the car door for her. "I can be more of a gentleman than this... if you'd just give me the chance."
She scoffs but slides into the seat. "Thank you."
"Anytime." I shut the door gently and walk around to the driver's side. Once I'm inside and I start driving, she glances around the interior, her fingers brushing the leather. "This is a really nice car."
"Do you like it?" I glance at her, noting her expression.
She nods. "Yeah. It's a beast. I want something like this one day." I grin.
"If you like it, I'll have one delivered to your apartment tomorrow morning."
She turns to stare at me. "Just because I said I like it?"
"Anything you want, angel," I slow the car slightly at the light. "I can make anything happen at the snap of my fingers. You might've already guessed, but... I have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with you. And I won't stop until we both share the same surname."
"That's not going to happen," she says, turning her face towards the street.
"And why not?" I ask.
"Because, your part of the underworld, and I put people like you behind bars."
I chuckle. She's very funny.
• • •
The valet approaches our car as soon as we pull into the restaurant. I hand him the keys and offer her my arm. She takes it, grudgingly, and we walk in.
Warm light spills over us the moment the doors open. Crystal chandeliers casting soft gold across polished floors, the low clink of glassware and muted conversation floating through the air. Tables sit spaced wide apart beneath crisp white linen cloths, silverware aligned with precision, wine glasses catching the light like small prisms.
The scent of butter, seared meat, and rich wine hangs comfortably in the air and a pianist somewhere near the bar plays just loud enough to not take over the moment.
I brought her here on a recommendation I saw online. Dinner starts off fine, but I want to loosen her up. Get her to laugh. Make her see I'm more than just the dangerous man her client warned her about.
"So," I say, cutting into my steak. "Tell me about yourself. What made you want to become a lawyer?"
She looks up from her plate, her fork pausing mid-air. There's surprise in her eyes, like she wasn't expecting the question. "My mother," she says after a moment.
"Your mother was a lawyer?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"No. But she always said I argued like one." She takes a sip of wine, her guard dropping just slightly. "I was good at it. I was part of the debate team in school and I always won."
I lean back in my chair, watching her. "I can see that. You certainly don't back down from a fight."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she asks, sharply.
"It is," I say simply.
She studies me for a long moment, she's trying to figure out if I'm mocking her. Then she goes back to her food, cutting her steak into small pieces.
I try again. "What kind of law do you practice?"
"Corporate. Contracts mostly," she says without looking up.
"Boring," I say, unable to help myself.
