The flight is short, barely enough time to finish our champagne. But each minute stretches with tension. Each accidental brush of our hands, graze of his knee, each shared glance over the rim of our glasses builds something dangerous between us.
When we land, another car is waiting. This one a black Bentley with a driver. Niko ushers me inside, and we drive through Dublin's streets.
The restaurant is tucked away on a quiet street. A stone façade glowing with warm light. Inside, it's all soft lighting and hushed conversations. The maître d' greets Niko by name, ushering us to a secluded table by a window overlooking a small courtyard.
Niko holds my chair as I sit, and then he takes his seat. Two candles flicker between us.
I look around and I'm struck by how carefully Niko orchestrates this. Every move, every detail, planned.
"You've done this before," I say, leaning forward.
He lifts a brow. "What?"
"Impressing women."
"No. I've never met one worth impressing before," he says and leans in. "How am I doing?"
My cheeks flush, and I hate how easily he seems to be able to do that to me.
I glance at the menu. "You know, I only agreed to one drink," I remind him.
"You did." He nods. "Then only order a drink," he counters. "But you'll miss one of the best meals of your life."
I look at him. "You're very good at persuasion."
"I'm good at offering what someone secretly wants," he replies, eyes locked on mine. "The rest is their choice."
It's hard to argue with that when the waiter appears and pours us glasses of something that smells like flowers and fire.
We toast silently.
I take a sip and moan before I can stop myself. "God, that's good. I need a bottle of this."
He watches me like he's just won something.
Now that we're here, I feel myself relaxing a bit. Not 100%, but I feel myself returning to normal around him.
"So…" I say, needing to talk. "I will admit, once I saw you at my father's thing, I've been thinking of my younger days running around Greece in the summer. The last I remember, you were falling on your face trying to learn to windsurf."
He laughs. "Yes. Unfortunately, I remember that too."
"Did you stick with it?"
"I did. I'm pretty good now."
"Is that so?" I ask, taking a sip of the most delicious wine I've ever had.
"Yes. I'll teach you next time you're in Greece."
The waiter comes and Niko orders the chef's recommendations. "How can you not eat what a Michelin star chef recommends?" he said, and I couldn't find a fault in his thinking.
"And you? What do you enjoy?" he asks once the waiter leaves.
"No." I smile behind my glass. "I want to learn more about you."
His eyes narrow and he nods. "Okay. What else?"
"When you're not windsurfing or flying around the world to take women out for drinks, what do you do for fun?"
