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“Thank you. Come on in.”
“Did your friends buy your story about not feeling well?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I grabbed my small purse.
We took the elevator down to Ocean Prime, a well-known, very expensive steakhouse.
“How did you get a reservation for this place on such short notice?” I asked as the hostess seated us.
“The hotel knows me. I can get in anywhere.” A smirk crossed his lips.
“Oh.” I opened my menu.
The waiter walked over and took our drink order.
“I’ll have a dirty martini with vodka, wet and shaken, extra vermouth, and olive brine.” I smiled.
“And I’ll have a bourbon, neat,” Miles said. “A girl who knows how to order a martini exactly the way she wants it.”
“Sometimes, they can get it wrong.”
“Where are you from, Stella?” he asked.
“New York. Well, I’m really from Florida. I moved to New York a couple of years ago.”
* * *
Miles
She lived in New York. Shit.
“Where about in New York?” I asked.
“I share an apartment with my friend, Jordyn, in Hell’s Kitchen. Ever heard of it?”
“Yes, of course.” I smiled.
The waiter set our drinks down and took our dinner order. I picked up my glass and tipped it to my lips. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her I also lived in New York. I didn’t want to run the risk of her stalking me once we left Vegas, so I quickly changed the subject.
“How’s your martini?” I asked.
“It’s perfect.” A beautiful smile graced her face.
“I assume since you’re having dinner with me, there isn’t a boyfriend back home? Or maybe there is, and you’re being naughty.” A smirk crossed my lips.
“Funny you should mention that.” She sipped her drink.
“Why is that?” I grabbed a piece of bread from the basket.
“My ex-boyfriend is here in Vegas for the bachelor party. We broke up a month ago.”
“You or him?”
“Him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s obvious he’s a fool.”
“That he is.” She smiled, setting down her drink. “He met someone else. Whatever. I’m over it.”
