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“Do you really want to walk all that way?” Victor raised an eyebrow.
“Our reservation’s in thirty minutes,” Danielle replied. “And walking should take us about...maybe twenty? We’d get there just in time.” Victor nodded, and they made their way out of the building together, still comfortably, companionably close.
It was late enough in the afternoon that the evening’s subtle chill had already started to come in, and Danielle almost—but not quite—regretted wearing a sundress as they walked along 20th Street, passing through patches of shade every so often. When they turned onto Cherry Street, Danielle remembered, fleetingly, her concern about being seen with Victor by one of Sam’s friends; but she dismissed the thought. Sam’s friends would all be busy, and it wasn’t their part of town for doing business.
“Why did you pick the Dandelion Pub, if you don’t mind me asking?” Victor pulled her hand into the crook of his elbow, and Danielle smiled. It felt so strangely comforting, the old-fashioned gesture. Some of the older men in the Bey family liked to do a similar move, but they’d always, somehow, skeeved her out when she saw them doing it. With Victor it felt natural. “I was thinking you’d pick a really high-end place.” Danielle snorted.
“You’re too used to being a billionaire,” she said playfully. “I actually purposely picked it because it isn’t super fancy. I want you to think my apartment is nice—and going to some four-star restaurant before that would just disappoint you.” Victor let out a low whistle.
“I finally get to see your place, instead of us ending up at mine,” he said. Danielle blushed.
“I thought it was about time,” she said. “Besides, I’ve only been at your place what—twice now?”
“But we’ve known each other for a month and a half,” Victor pointed out.
“But this is our first actual, official date,” Danielle countered. Victor chuckled.
“I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to invite me over,” he said.
Then they had arrived, and Danielle let Victor get the door for her to let her in. The dinners and lunches he had taken her to—almost all of them at pricier restaurants in Philadelphia—had been wonderful, and the smells had always been heavenly, but there was something about the homey, hearty scents flowing through the dining room at Dandelion Pub that was even more comforting. The pub was certainly not cheap; it wasn’t Qdoba or one of the other fast-casual places, but it was a lot more casual than the other places they’d gone.
The hostess seated them, and as she looked over the menu, Danielle remembered suddenly that she and Sam had eaten at the pub before... It had been a special occasion, when she’d gotten the job she’d left to work with Victor originally. He’s not going to show up, and none of his guys are going to be coming in this time of day, she reminded herself, turning her attention onto the dinner menu.
“I am going to have a hard time deciding,” Victor informed her. “Everything sounds amazing.”
“It does,” Danielle agreed. “Too many choices that are just too good.”
After a few moments consulting back and forth, by the time the waiter arrived, Victor had settled on a Dark and Stormy to drink, while Danielle chose a Pimm’s Cup; they chose deviled eggs and the pickled beetroot jar to start, and Danielle pored over the menu trying to decide which main to get for herself, while Victor took up time for her, discussing different options with the waiter.
“I think I’ll go with a classic and just take the Shepherd’s Pie,” Danielle said finally.
“Excellent choice,” the waiter said, nodding to them both. “I’ll bring out your drinks and have your snacks out in a few.”
“I’m glad you brought me here,” Victor said when the man had left. “It’s good to get out of the usual fine dining rut every now and then.” Danielle chuckled.
“I just remembered that Sam and I came here a while ago—when I got the first big job—and for us it was a special occasion meal,” she told him. Victor grinned.
“Well, now with the money you’re making working for me, this is a pretty affordable meal,” he pointed out. “You could afford to explore restaurants on your own, if you wanted.” Danielle shrugged, thinking about it.
“I guess I could,” she said, thinking about the sum of money she’d set aside, a fairly substantial chunk of her first three paychecks working for Victor. The first deposit in her bank account had been a huge thrill to see; it was more money than she’d made from two weeks of work than ever in her life, and on top of her last paycheck from her other job, it had meant that she had rent for two months paid for, all in one fell swoop.
Even after setting a chunk of money from each paycheck aside, and paying the bills, she’d had more spending money than she was used to having—she still hadn’t adjusted.
“Well, if nothing else, I’m looking forward to exploring them with you,” Victor said, his eyes heating up once more as he met her gaze. “It’s okay to eat alone now and then, but it’s so much better with someone else.” Danielle smiled slightly.
“Why haven’t you gone after anyone?” That was a question that had been humming in the back of her mind the whole time she’d known Victor—or at least since he’d made his proposition to her, the morning after their first night together. “I mean, you’re rich, and good-looking, and smart and funny—you could get any girl you want. Why were you single?”
“At first because having a girlfriend just wasn’t a priority for me,” Victor admitted. “I was building my business, and then getting it fully legitimate, and all that. And then—once I was rich—I didn’t really trust anyone anymore. Not fully. And to date someone, to fall in love with them, you have to trust them to at least some extent.”
Danielle thought about that. Had she trusted the men she’d been in love with in the past? How definitely can you say that you know you were in love with them? The feelings she’d had for those men just weren’t the same as what she found herself feeling for Victor. Not since her first teenage crush, at least—and that she’d only really felt recently.
“So, you’re saying you trust me?” Victor chuckled.
“Well I trust you to spend my money responsibly, funding charities and projects and things,” he pointed out.
“That is a good point,” Danielle agreed. By then their drinks arrived at the table, and their snacks were right behind them, interrupting the conversation. Danielle sampled the deviled eggs, thinking that her mom’s recipe was just a little tangier, and the beetroot—with the olive tapenade and goat cheese that came with it—and clinked her glass against Victor’s to sip her drink.
Any thought of her brother was a million miles away; all Danielle could think of was getting through dinner quickly—while still enjoying it—and bringing Victor back to her apartment to show him how much she appreciated his trust. Whatever else happened between them, she couldn’t help but feel grateful that he felt for her, that he’d inspired such feelings in her. It wasn’t just the great sex; it was something deeper, and even if Danielle wasn’t yet ready to confront what that could be, she was happy to enjoy it.
