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“How on earth did you manage a reservation? This place is impossible to get into,” she asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.
“Let’s just say it pays to be the producer of the hottest show in town,” I replied with a cheeky grin. “Remarkable what you can get by offering a pair of front row tickets,” I added with a wink.
I gave my name to the hostess, and we followed her over to a table for two near the fireplace. London gazed around the restaurant in awe, and it was impossible not to agree with her. The place was stunning, with chandeliers overhead and rich wood accents everywhere. The round mirror above the fireplace mantel and the tall floor clock against one wall added to the ambiance, making it the perfect setting for a romantic evening.
As we placed our order for the tasting menu with wine pairing, our conversation was infused with a certain je ne sais quoi. We shared tales of our passions and reminisced about our childhoods, discovering new aspects of each other with every passing moment.
“You know, my dear, I’ve always believed that true love is eternal,” I said, taking a sip of my wine.
London’s eyes shone bright, and she leaned in closer, captivated. “And what, pray tell, do you define as true love?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.
“For me, true love is about understanding and embracing each other, imperfections and all,” I replied, my gaze never leaving hers.
“How beautifully put,” she whispered, her hand resting atop mine.
Lost in the moment, we were briefly interrupted as our server presented us with our second course, seared Atlantic sea scallops with a rosemary smoked yellow tomato coulis and a leek fondue.
“Every time I hear leeks, I think of that movie where they had the leek in a boat and made the play on words,” London said with a chuckle.
“I’m not familiar with that one,” I replied, intrigued.
“Oh, it’s hilarious,” she said, laughing. “We’ll have to watch it together one day.”
As we savored each dish, we bonded over our mutual love of British television, passionately discussing the merits of J. R. R. Tolkien versus C. S. Lewis. But when the topic of work came up, I couldn’t help but feel anxious. However, London’s account of standing up for herself against Timothy’s accusations and Darrel’s support in front of everyone brought a sense of comfort and put my worries to rest.
“And what about dessert?” our server asked, whisking away our empty plates.
“Yes, bring it on,” I replied, positively bouncing with excitement.
London raised an eyebrow, amused by my boyish enthusiasm for dessert. “Are you truly looking forward to the chocolate souffle that much, or is it something else that has you all excited?” she asked, with a playful glint in her eye.
I gave her a roguish grin. “Can’t it be both?”
She chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “Of course.”
London gazed out the nearest window, where we could just make out the faint swirl of a light snowfall. “Do you have a specific plan in mind, or are we heading back to the apartment?” she asked.
“I was thinking maybe go to my hotel, if you’re up for it, or are you too tired?” I replied, genuinely curious.
“Not at all,” she answered truthfully. “I enjoy being with you, no matter where we are. And the suite offers certain amenities,” she said with a smile. “Like a jacuzzi and bigger bed.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I whispered. “I have many plans for us back in my room.”
The blush that rose to her cheeks told me she liked the idea, and she reached across the table to take my hand. “Thank you, not just for this romantic evening, but for always being there for me and putting my needs first.”
Her fingers tightened around mine for a moment before she leaned back to allow the server to place our dessert in front of us. Heat smoldered in her eyes as she took a bite of the souffle, making a slow, sensual show of licking her fork clean.
I couldn’t help but curse under my breath. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“And I’m loving every minute of it,” she said with a wicked wink.
As we indulged in the rich chocolate dessert, the atmosphere between us grew even more charged, our desires simmering just below the surface. And as we finished, and I asked for the check, I could feel the heat building between us, ready to ignite into a blazing passion.
Our car was waiting for us as we left the restaurant, a welcome respite from the frigid air. I was grateful to have dressed up for London, but I couldn’t wait to shed as many layers as possible once we were in the privacy of my suite.
As the car pulled up to the hotel, we quickly made our way inside, eager to escape the cold. “Do you want to stop at the bar or go straight to the suite?” I asked.
She shook her head, her eyes blazing with desire. “I can’t wait to be in the bedroom with you,” she said, her voice filled with longing.
