When we got to the car, he handed me a satin eye mask.
“What’s this for?”
“I don’t want you to know where we’re going till we get there,” he said as he started the ignition.
I pursed my lips, turning it over in my hands. “I think you’re taking this a bit too seriously.”
He shot me a sideways look. “Kitten.”
The way he said it—a soft warning but also heavy with meaning—made me sigh. “Fine.”
He grinned as I slipped the mask over my head.
I leaned back and let the darkness settle in. My other senses immediately heightened now that my vision was gone. Fontaine’s smoky cologne wrapped around me as he turned up the radio. Xavier Omär’s voice filled the car as his hand rested on my thigh, making my breath hitch.
“I think you’re enjoying this more than me,” I said about ten minutes into the ride.
He chuckled under his breath. “Maybe. You don’t like not being in control. I like that you don’t know what’s coming next.”
I did hate not knowing what came next. My life depended on control. I calculated exits as soon as I walked into a room. This kind of trust and vulnerability was alien to me.
“We’re almost there,” he said as if he sensed the question on the tip of my tongue.
When the car finally slowed and came to a stop, Fontaine reached over and pulled the mask off himself, his fingers grazing my cheek in the process.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You can look now.”
I blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted to the light outside. Soft, deep blue light rippled across the pavement as I stepped out. It was like the ocean itself had spilled onto the ground. When I looked up, the glass dome of the Georgia Aquarium glowed beneath the full moon.
Fontaine handed his keys to the valet and joined me on the sidewalk. Other guests moved toward the entrance, their laughter carrying through the air.
“The aquarium?” I asked.
“They do these night events sometimes,” he said as he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “Some of the symphony is performing, there’s an open bar, and you can walk through the aquarium. I know you listen to classical music when you work.”
Him catching that detail surprised me. It was a habit I’d picked up from Sterling—one of the few good ones. “Not you thinking you know me and shit.”
Fontaine grinned. “I know a lot more than you think, Ms. Crawford.”
Inside the usual bright lights of the aquarium were lowered and I could hear the faint sound of strings coming from somewhere deeper inside. Servers milled about with trays of hors d’oeuvres.
“This is beautiful,” I murmured as a jellyfish drifted past in one of the observation tanks.
We moved deeper until we reached the Ocean Voyager exhibit—a full glass tunnel with water stretching above andaround us, making it feel like we were underwater. Stingrays glided overhead like ghostly apparitions.
Fontaine nodded toward a small bar near the manta tank. “Red wine?”
I nodded.
He ordered a Malbec for me and a whiskey neat for himself.
“Not too shabby for a first date, huh?” he asked, handing me the glass.
“You did alright,” I chuckled. “A little over the top but I’m not mad at it.”
We kept walking through the aquarium, taking our time until we reached the open space where the orchestra was set up. Fontaine’s hand stayed in mine, like he was afraid I’d float away. For a rare moment, I let myself wonder what if I let this just be life? Figure out a way to get from under the Order’s thumb and just stay with Fontaine.
About fifteen musicians sat in a semicircle under soft lights. They’d just finished a piece and were flipping their sheet music for the next one.
