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He wiped his mouth with his napkin and frowned slightly. “It was lonely at first. But then I realized the same rules applied there that applied everywhere else—people respect money and confidence. I had both.”

Our server brought out our third course—pan-roasted sea scallops.

“What about you?” he asked, cutting into his scallop. “What’s your story?”

“My story?” I repeated, trying to decide what version of my life I wanted to give him.

“Yeah, tell me about Belle.”

“Well…I didn’t go to any prestigious boarding school. I did a stint in Catholic School when my mom married her second husband,” I said, remembering Howard. I’d liked him. He was kind and very good to me.

“What does your mom do?”

“My mother is a professional wife,” I said. “She’s on her fourth husband—a dentist in Westchester. He’s an older man, disgustingly wealthy. She cosplays the devoted wife, and Walter pretends he doesn’t know she’s only there for the inheritance.”

“Hm.” He studied me for a moment, and I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. It felt like he was reading me. “Does that bother you?”

“It used to,” I admitted. “Now it’s whatever. I’ve learned a lot from her.” I caught myself. “About reading people, I mean.”

“Mmhm.” He didn’t seem to read into my slip up, which I appreciated, because I’d already said too fucking much.

I used the silence to dig into my own food.

“Ohhh,” I moaned, closing my eyes as the scallop melted into my mouth. When I opened them, Cardez was looking at me with that stupid warm expression again that made my stomach flutter.

“You’re staring,” I said.

“I’m appreciating.”

“Yeah, well, appreciate the food in front of you.”

“I’m looking at something better.”

I grabbed my wine because I needed something to do before I was cheesing in this nigga’s face like a teenage girl.

After the third glass of wine, I stopped watching what I said so much. I told him how me and Siani became quick friends at a pole dancing class a few years ago.

“You into all these bendy activities,” he mused, looking at me over his glass.

“I’m thirty-eight, I’m not trying to be a stiff old woman,” I said. “Speaking of which— how old are you?”

“Thirty-nine.”

“Zodiac sign?”

“Oh boy. You into that stuff?” He chuckled. “I’m a Capricorn. My birthday’s January third. You?”

“Scorpio. October thirtieth.”

I was stuffed but couldn’t resist a bite of the dessert when it came. It was an almond pound cake with a scoop of graham cracker ice cream.

“What’s your relationship like with your dad?” I asked, licking my spoon.

His jaw tightened for a second. “Me and my pops have an understanding. We love each other, and there’s deep mutual respect, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“I get it,” I said softly. Me and my mother were similar in that way. That lovey dovey mother-daughter thing? Regina didn’t have that in her.

The chef came out at the end of our meal. He was handsome—tall, dark-skinned with locs neatly pulled up into a bun. He slapped hands and hugged Cardez.