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Dominic
Allison, the hostess at the entrance of Dalian, recognizes me. “Your table is ready, Mr. Crawford. Please follow me.”
“Must be nice,” Gabby quips under her breath.
“It has its perks,” I agree. We reach our table and I dismiss the hostess with a smile of thanks. Pulling her chair out, I wait for Gabby to sit before taking my place opposite her.
Carter takes a seat to her right. His eyes scan the restaurant. “It’s busy tonight.”
That’s an understatement. The restaurant is packed. I recognize three Oscar-nominated directors, a Hollywood power couple, two Senators, and that’s in a cursory sweep. We were lucky to hire Chef Jie. We paid her a fortune to lure her from her Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago a bid to establish Atlantic City as a culinary destination that will give Vegas a run for its money. As tonight demonstrates, the gamble has paid off.
Gabby looks around too, and her mouth falls open. “Is that—” She shakes her head. “Wow. You should have warned me what a big deal this was. I would have spent an hour on my makeup and hair.”
Carter grins. “Given what we spent our time on instead, I’m glad he didn’t.”
She laughs. “Fair enough. I can’t complain either. I’m not too under-dressed, am I?”
She’s wearing a sleeveless floaty blue dress with giant abstract flowers on it. Her hair hangs in loose waves down her shoulders. “You look beautiful,” I tell her honestly. “Like a summer day brought to life. Warm and sunny and perfect.”
“You’re secretly a poet.” She beams at me. “Who knew?”
I smile back at her, a sense of well-being filling me. Gabriella wants to date us. She can work remotely, which means she’ll be able to spend a lot of time in Atlantic City. Carter is finally working through his issues with Ed. Their first mediation meeting wasn’t exactly smooth sailing, but they both had agreed to another session, which is what matters. Things are looking pretty damn good.
The waiter comes over with a wine list. “Good evening, Mr. Crawford.”
“How are you, Jamal?” The Grand River employs a lot of people, but, like my parents before me, I try hard to remember their names. Jamal’s wife gave birth to twins nine months ago, I think. Gloria, who heads up Human Resources, sent them a gift basket of some kind. I’m fairly sure I signed a card. “How are the babies?”
“They’re finally sleeping through the night. It’s a relief.” He nods at Carter. “Our sommelier has prepared a wine pairing for the tasting menu, but if you prefer something else?”
I give Gabriella a questioning look. “I’ll do the wine pairing, please,” she responds.
“Me too,” Carter says.
“That’s what we’ll do.” I hand the wine list back to Jamal. “Thank you.”
Once we’re alone, Gabby rubs her palms together. “I’m starving,” she says. “I could eat a horse.”
“Horses aren’t on the menu,” Carter quips. “But you’re in for a treat. Jessie brought up samples for the staff as she developed the menu.” He shakes his head in appreciation. “I never realized how little I knew about Chinese food.”
“We’re not eating kung pao chicken then?” Her face lights up with anticipation. “I can’t wait.” She sits up. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Something weird happened. Vittoria Vitale called me on Saturday and invited me to brunch.”
“Mitchell’s wife?” Carter’s tone sharpens. “Why?”
“I think she was just being friendly. She sounded a little lonely.”
“Interesting.” His eyes are narrowed. “I’ll look into it.”
Our first course arrives just then on three small plates. “Yellow croaker fish dumpling with leeks,” Jamal announces. “Paired with the Bisol Cartizze Prosecco.”
Gabby pops the dumping into her mouth. Her eyes go wide. She chews, a blissed -out expression on her face, and then takes a sip of Prosecco. “Oh wow,” she says. “That was so good. I could eat two dozen of those dumplings.”
“It’s a fifteen-course menu.” I lace her fingers in mine and kiss the tips. “You won’t go hungry.”
“You haven’t seen me eat.” She looks behind me, and her smile vanishes. “Oh crap. It’s Leo Norris. Ugh. Incoming asshole alert.”
A man walks up to our table. Correction: he stumbles up to our table. His hip hits the edge, and I grab my wine glass before it tips over. “Gabriella,” he slurs. “A sight for sore eyes.”
“Leo,” she says, her voice flat. “What a surprise seeing you here.”
