The waiter approached, and I ordered in French before she even touched the menu.
Steak for me.
Grilled chicken and roasted potatoes for her. Sparkling apple cider.
The waiter nodded and disappeared.
Yuna leaned back in her chair.
“You always order for people?”
I shrugged.
“Only when they take too long. You looked at that menu upside down.”
She picked up the glass of sparkling cider when it arrived and took a slow sip.
“It wasn’t upside down. You’re controlling.”
I leaned forward slightly.
“Efficient.”
My hand rested on her leg.
Then slid lightly up her inner thigh.
She paused mid-sip.
Didn’t stop me, though.
“You see?” she said. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
I leaned closer so only she could hear me.
“You complaining?”
Her lips curled slightly behind the veil. “Not yet.”
Dinner arrived a few minutes later.
She ate, still watching me like she was trying to read something deeper behind my eyes.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Just cut my steak calmly before I looked up at her.
“Because you’re mine now.”
My words weren’t threatening, just a matter of fact.
She studied me for a moment longer and shook her head slightly.
Dinner stretched into quiet conversation and small touches. Close to two hours later, I was paying the tab.
Eventually, we stepped back outside into the Paris night.
