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I felt my face grow hot from embarrassment. We did some very naughty things in the limo over the past few weeks.
“You’re killing me here.”
Oliver gave me one last kiss on the cheek before he fired up his phone to check some work emails. I looked out the window as we passed through the city streets. We arrived at Kimo Steakhouse in midtown just before six. My stomach started to churn with anticipation.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m fine.”
Vlad pulled up in front of the restaurant and stepped out to open the door for us. Oliver exchanged a few words with him before assisting me out of the car. As we entered the restaurant, a raven-haired waitress in five-inch heels and a form-fitting black dress greeted us and led us to a table at the back. Three men were already seated there, and they stood up as we approached.
"Gentlemen, may I present my fiancée, Ryleigh Stewart," Oliver introduced me with pride.
The first to offer his hand was Ivan Persky, his slight Russian accent adding intrigue to his rugged appearance. He had a scar under his left dark brown eye and short-cropped black hair, neatly styled. I noticed his slightly crooked front teeth and was surprised that a hockey player like him had any teeth left.
Next was Dax Adderly, a tall, almost lanky man with a charming smile and twinkling blue eyes. Instead of shaking my hand, he pulled me into a tight hug, earning a disapproving look from Oliver which made him quickly release me.
Finally, there was Wilmer Hermann, broad-shouldered and bald as a cue ball, with piercing ice-blue eyes. He shook my hand firmly, placing his other hand over mine in a friendly gesture. I instantly warmed to all three men, who were dressed more casually than Oliver in sport jackets, jeans, and dress shirts.
"Wow, you really scored with this one," Dax commented, causing my cheeks to flush with embarrassment.
"Seriously, Dax? Don't be a jerk," Ivan chided him.
"What? She's beautiful," Dax defended himself.
I felt Oliver's reassuring squeeze as he pulled out a chair for me to sit down. Once I was seated, all four men took their places as the waitress arrived to take our drink orders.
"I'll have a glass of red wine, please," I requested.
"Which one?" the waitress inquired.
Feeling a bit unsure, I looked to Oliver for guidance.
"Please bring a bottle of Merlot for the table," Oliver instructed, indicating his choice.
"Thank you," I said gratefully as the waitress left. Oliver's hand found mine under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze, and I smiled appreciatively at him.
“Thank you,” I said after the waitress left. Oliver reached under the table to squeeze my knee.
Dinner was pleasant and my stomach loosened as I was engaged in conversation by all four men. After a meal of filet mignon, sautéed asparagus and fingerling potatoes, a delicious chocolate soufflé was served for dessert. I was full as I sipped my third glass of wine.
We said our goodbyes at the curb, and I felt like I had gained three new friends in Dax, Wilmer and Ivan. On the way home, Oliver turned to me.
“You were a hit,” Oliver said.
I nodded. “They seemed to like me.”
He smiled. “They loved you. Wilmer said you’re perfect for me.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“I think so. No, I know so. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I grasped his hand. “I wanted to make a good impression.”
“You did. They all said you were intelligent and classy.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “When? I didn’t hear them say that.”
