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“My family’s been in the restaurant supply business for over thirty years. We have a few warehouses in the city. And I co-own a restaurant in Harlem with a friend,” I replied, trying to keep it as vague as possible.

The look on Regina’s face was one I recognized. It was the same one Belle had when she was quietly doing mental math on somebody. She was attempting to pin down my net worth by my answers, trying to see exactly how big of a fish her daughter had hooked.

“What restaurant?” Walter asked.

“Maison. It’s New American.”

“Nice, we’ll have to check it out.”

“Restaurant supply, huh,” Regina repeated, swirling her wine. “Well, I guess that’s convenient when you have your own?”

“It is,” I chuckled.

“Mm.” Regina wasn’t satisfied, but she was a shark like her daughter. She’d try to find out more about my money from a different angle.

“Did your father build the company?” She asked.

“No, ma’am, my grandfather did. Passed it onto my father, and I’ve taken over for him for the last few years.”

She nodded. “Legacy.”

“Mama, are you gonna be shaking him down all night? Shouldn’t we be getting ready for dinner?” Belle asked, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth.

“I’m getting to know my future son-in-law, La’Belle. You barely told me anything about this man and everything has happened so quickly.”

“I told you, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind.”

“Uh huh.”

Walter chuckled from his chair. “She’ll keep going all night if you let her, Cardez.”

“I can see that.” I smiled at Regina. “I’m an open book. Ask whatever you want.”

“Dez, don’t encourage her, please,” Belle muttered.

Being around Regina told me more about Belle than anything she’d shared with me. The woman who’d taught her daughter to treat men like investments had built a beautiful life doing exactly that. It may have started off as survival, but she cared for Walter. That much was obvious.

“You haven’t touched your wine,” Regina said to Belle. I glanced over at the still full glass, which was unusual for her.

“Cutting back,” Belle said as she reached for a cracker. “Gotta make sure the dress fits the way it needs to. Wine’s just empty calories.”

Walter clapped his hands. “I think dinner’s just about ready.”

Regina side-eyed her daughter but got up and went to the kitchen with Walter behind her.

“You really cutting back?” I asked her when they were out of earshot.

Belle rolled her eyes. “Yes. Have you seen me drinking at home lately?”

My brows pinched together. “I don’t know, I’m not clocking your drinking like that.”

“Well, I’m not. I want to look good, even if it’ll be like twelve people there.”

Belle wasn’t vain. She knew she was fine as hell and didn’t need to do shit to prove it, especially not to me. I was about to say something else to her when Regina called us to the table.

The dining room was set with the good china—the kind I was sure they reserved for holidays and special occasions. Walter carved up the lamb while Regina brought out the rest of the sides: roasted duck fat potatoes, a green salad with pomegranate seeds, and homemade gravy.

“This looks delicious, Regina,” I said.