Page 186 of Manhattan Bossholes

I pulled back, pouting at her playfully.

“Just tell me this one thing,” she said, getting to her feet. “Is the Cocktail King’s cocktail really as good as they say?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I laughed as Jennifer flopped back down, taking me by the shoulders as if she could shake the answer out of me.

“Help a girl out. You know I’m in a dry spell. Let me live a little vicariously.”

I could feel my entire face flushing as I nodded. “It’s better.”

“As in ‘bigger is better’?” she asked, flashing me a wicked grin.

“Bigger is definitely better, but he never had any problems on that front,” I said. “And he knows what to do with it now. Not to mention with his tongue.”

Jennifer groaned like a wild beast in heat. “God, I need to find myself a Cocktail King.” She lay down beside me. “If only for the stress relief.”

“Maybe you’ll bump into someone tonight if you go out,” I suggested. It was her night off from the restaurant. “You could find a nice guy to have a little fun with.”

“No chance,” she said, yawning as she rubbed the space between her eyes. “I’m so looking forward to staying in. I want to rest and recharge.”

“You mean eat your weight in pizza and cookie dough?”

“Exactly. And I sure as hell don’t want to go back to work tomorrow.”

“Is it really that bad?” I asked, genuinely worried. When had work become something that weighed on her this much?

“I’m dreading it,” she said. “But that’s a tomorrow problem. Tonight, I’m going to watch K-dramas until my eyes bug out of my head and send you off in style. Speaking of which, you never answered my question. What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know.” I sat up. “I’m not even sure where we’re going.”

“You didn’t ask him?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. I think he wants it to be a surprise.”

Jennifer clicked her tongue, dissatisfied. “You’re giving me literally nothing to work with here.”

“I know!”

“Okay, well, if I were a billionaire,” Jennifer said, walking to my tiny closet, “taking someone out to dinner in Manhattan, I’d go somewhere nice. Somewhere really nice. Like Eleven Madison Park or maybe the Modern.” She pulled a sparkling black halter dress from my closet. It had a plunging neckline. “Put this on.”

I worried my lip. “I’m not sure that’s the one.”

“This is the one,” Jennifer said. “Trust me.”

“You look amazing,” Aiden said. “Have I told you that yet?”

“Yes…” I smiled softly at him across the small, square table. His thumb brushed over my knuckles where he held my hand. “Only about five or six times.”

“Let’s make it seven then,” he said as his gaze flicked up and down, his stare heated. “That dress…”

He’d hardly been able to take his eyes off me since the moment he’d picked me up. Jennifer was right. This was the dress—plunging neckline, slit up the side. His gaze was like a caress, goosebumps prickling up and down my arms as Aiden tugged on the collar of his dress shirt.

“This place is amazing,” I said, trying to distract myself from the way he was making me feel. He’d taken me to Velour & Vine, the fanciest restaurant I’d ever set foot in ensconced in a club I could never hope to be a member of. We’d promptly been escorted across the restaurant to a semi-private table for two. It was an intimate space with soft lighting.

Our position allowed us a view of the elegant decor and bustling restaurant activity without being too close to the other diners. The staff were attentive but unobtrusive, often anticipating our needs before Aiden or I could even voice them. A sommelier came and went, offering tailored wine pairings to go with the special dishes curated by the head chef himself. He’d come out to greet us at the start of the meal, shaking Aiden’s hand in a way that made it clear they were old friends. Each course of the tasting menu had been utterly divine so far, and I couldn’t wait to give Jennifer the rundown. If anyone could appreciate meticulously crafted seafood, it was her.

A gently seared scallop was set down in front of me.

“…served with brown butter dashi, seaweed, and mushrooms,” the server was saying. He disappeared quickly, leaving us to enjoy the dish.