“They’ll survive.”
“You’re very confident about that.”
“I married the woman who runs this place.”
I laugh and rest my head lightly against his shoulder as we start to sway to the music.
“You clean up well, by the way,” I tell him.
“You say that every time I wear a suit.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
His mouth curves slightly.
“You’re biased.”
“Extremely.”
The restaurant blurs around us as we dance. For a moment it feels like the entire room fades away until it’s just the two of us moving slowly under the soft lights.
“I have a car waiting,” Nico murmurs near my ear.
I groan. “You’re kidnapping me again?”
“Weekend at the beach.”
“That I can handle,” I say. “I’d feel guilty leaving the restaurant for longer.”
“I know,” he replies. “That’s why I didn’t spirit you away to Thailand.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love it.”
“Yeah,” I sigh theatrically. “I do.”
His hand reaches for a glass on a nearby tray. He offers it to me.
“Champagne?”
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
His brows lift immediately. “Since when do you refuse champagne?”
I smile slowly. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Understanding hits him like lightning.
“Isabella,” he calls, throwing his head back in curiosity.
“Our sixth,” I say quietly. “Another girl.”
For a second he just stares at me.
Then he laughs—a deep, startled sound I don’t hear nearly enough.
He spins me in the air. I squeal, but it’s mostly delight. I never feel unsafe with Nico. Not even when he literally makes me fly.
