I caught her hand where she'd let it rest on the table, offering her fingers a soft squeeze. "Just the mocktail pairing for the appetizer to start, please."
"Right away, sir," Erika said, disappearing behind the bar to get to work.
"Why a mocktail?"
"Because, in the off chance that you're pregnant and we’re not yet aware, I don't want you accidentally over-indulging," I explained, leaning forward to draw her hand to my lips for a soft kiss against her knuckles. “You'd mentioned during negotiations that you appreciated it when your partners took initiative. The door is open for you to choose from the menu if you'd like, but I have pre-selected some dishes for you. Would you like me to point them out?”
Chivalry, in the world of Eva Kent, was not dead. And I wanted to be instrumental in ensuring that continued to be true, for however long I had to do so.
She grinned. Not the carefully calculated smile that I’d seen on the SLCK’d stream, no, this wassomuch more. Her straight white teeth were on display, and the corners of her eyes creased with delight as they met mine.
"That's so thoughtful," she whispered.
Maybe my wants weren’t so crazy after all.
Attraction was clearly there already, the tension in my body mounting as I ran my thumb along the soft skin at the back of her hand.
Would the inside of her thighs feel the same between the gaps of Cameo's cuts? Or was she damp with arousal from the sting?
"Honestly…" Eva said, pulling my mind back to where it should be—above the table. "I don't know what half this is. It all sounds…well…"
"Well?" I prompted, narrowly holding in a laugh at her hesitation.
I'd seen Eva's car; it didn't surprise me that she wasn't the type to pay a few hundred dollars for a single meal. If I had to guess, their bill tonight would likely rival the cost of her grocery budget for a month. But that's what made it special. It wasn't just food; it was an experience.
"It all sounds like pretentious Michelin star-chasing bullshit," she said reluctantly, like she was worried she'd hurt my feelings but didn't have softer words to explain herself. "What the fuck is a morel? Or a cheese velouté?"
Her assessment drew out another laugh. I couldn't remember the last time that someone had spoken to me like that, much less about my Michelin star-achieving bullshit.
In a way, Eva had a point. I'd left simplicity behind a while ago in an effort to not only retain our stars after we'd earned them, but to get even better. Forgoing a bit of the rustic quality that many of the restaurants in the area preferred to cater to a more traditional fine dining experience.
"A morel is a mushroom," I explained. "And a velouté is a type of sauce."
"So," she said, with a shake of her head that I was pretty damn sure hid an eye roll. "It's… mac and cheese. With mushrooms."
"A bit of an oversimplification…" I muttered, but now that she'd said it… well, she wasn'twrong."Essentially, though, yes."
"Then I bet it rocks."
Ah, there was that smile again.
It didn't take long for Erika to return with some bread and our drinks, a fizzy, subtle ginger and lemon Italian soda served with a sphere of ice in a short glass. She didn't linger, something that I appreciated, as I undid the button of my suit jacket to lean forward in my seat.
Eva released my hand in favor of the glass, bringing it close to her eye to look through the sphere, invisible except for the bubbles surrounding it. "This is so cool!"
Pride swelled in my chest. "Thank you, we use directional freezing so that the air doesn't get trapped and cause bubbles. Can I… ask you a personal question?"
"Sure," she said with a shrug, taking a sip with a satisfied little wiggle in her chair. "I'm not an expert or anything, Marcus. But I think the point of a date is for us to get to know each other."
"Bratty little omega wants to be put over my knee, I see," I teased.
Eva choked on her second mouthful, setting the glass down as she coughed.
The smell of strawberries in the air was undeniable, and I decided to tuck away that little piece of information for later.
"Why agree?" I asked, before she'd managed to regain her composure. "To the contract, I mean?"
"Fuck that’s a little spicy… I need the money," she wheezed out, avoiding my eyes. "And it's not like your pack isugly…"
