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"Helps when you own it," I replied, and her eyes widened.
"Wait, you own this place?" She exclaimed as we stepped inside.
"Yes, my family helped fund it to get it off the ground a few years ago," I explained. My father had been the one to see the potential in this place, and, with a few well-placed investments, it was soon soaring to the top of the most coveted seatings in Vegas. The food really was good, but it was the atmosphere—the low Persian music, the scent of the food in the air—that really sold it for me.
We were guided to a table at the back of the room. It was lit by candles and draped in an immaculate white tablecloth. I pulled her seat out for her, and she sank into it. As she clasped her hands in front of her on the table, I couldn’t help but notice that they were shaking slightly.
"Are you alright?" I asked, concerned. "You’re shaking."
"I’m...I’m fine," she replied. "I’m just not used to places like this, that’s all."
"Places like this?"
"You know, fancy stuff." She waved her hand. "My family...we never really had the money for anything like this. It’s all new to me."
"Well, I look forward to introducing you to it," I replied, smiling at her. She frowned, leaned forward, and lowered her voice.
"Is this a front for something?" She demanded, and my eyebrows shot up.
"I’m sorry, what did you just say?" I cleared my throat, giving her a chance to take it back.
"Is this a front for something? Is this place open so you can launder money through it or something?" She asked me bluntly. I was surprised at how forward she was being, but given what I had invested in her brother’s casino, it shouldn’t have surprised me that much.
"No, it’s not," I stated. "It’s just a restaurant my father invested in before he passed."
As the waiter approached us to pop the champagne and top up our glasses, I eyed her across the table. How did she know about all that, anyway? Had Mark talked to her about it? That would explain why she seemed so intent on avoiding me at the party before she had given in and snuck off with me to the bathroom.
"Did Mark talk to you about my business?" I asked her. If she could be straightforward then I could do the same with her. I wasn’t going to hold back, not if she insisted on being that blunt.
"I got it out of him, yeah," she replied, looking down at the table. "I just...I had a bad feeling. I wanted to find out what he was getting involved in, and he can’t keep anything a secret from me. I know him too well for that."
I trusted Mark to have kept his mouth shut when it came to everyone else, but I supposed Thea had a right to know what was happening with her family business. I reached for my drink and took a sip.
"Something tells me you don’t approve," I remarked, and she shook her head.
"No way," she replied. "I just...I don’t understand how someone could dedicate their whole life to that…business."
I frowned. I knew she wasn’t intentionally putting down my father, but it was hard not to see it that way. Sometimes, I forgot how people on the outside could be, how they could see all of this—the way they judged, right up until the point they were getting something out of it, too.
"My father worked hard to make sure his family was provided for," I replied coolly. "And I’ll do the same thing for my family in the future. Isn’t that just what your parents did, too? With the hotel?"
"Yes, but it’s different," she protested. "They weren’t...I mean, they didn’t hurt anyone in the process..."
"Who’s saying that I’m hurting anyone?" I asked her, and I gestured around the restaurant. "Does anyone here look like they’re suffering?”
She followed my gaze around the place. Almost all the tables were occupied. Couples held hands in the soft glow of the candles between them, and the food and wine was flowing.
"I guess not, but this isn’t the only place, is it?" She pointed out. "There are others—other connections around the city..."
"And yet, you’re sitting right here opposite me," I reminded her. "So it doesn’t seem like you have too much of a problem with it."
She shifted in her seat and reached for her champagne. She had no comeback for that one, and she knew it. Much as she might have wanted to get up on her high horse and pretend she was above all of this, anyone could see how much she liked sitting at a table at the most exclusive restaurant in town.
"I don’t approve of it. I don’t like it," she protested, but her voice didn’t have the same fight in it. Something had shifted, and I could tell.
"So what are you doing here, then? With me?" I asked her, leaning forward, not taking my eyes off of her. I was genuinely interested. Some part of her wanted nothing to do with this, but another part, a more dominant part, had brought her here anyway.
She looked away from me as though the intensity of my gaze was too much for her to take. But I wanted answers, and I wasn’t going to let up until I had them. If she had such a great issue with what I did, and who I was, then why was she here? Why was she sitting right beside me as though it was the most natural thing in the world? Why had she hooked up with me again at the party? I had so many questions, and she must have been able to read at least a few of them on my face.
