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The VIP room was a world of itself. Opulent and intimate, it exuded an air of exclusivity. Rich mahogany paneling lined the walls, and plush velvet drapes framed the windows, which offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A single table, draped in pristine white linen, was set with glittering crystal and fine china. A bouquet of roses, their petals a deep, velvety red, stood at the center.
Zia tried not to show her excitement, but she couldn’t help the wide smile on her face. Lev hadn’t just booked them a reservation; he’d gotten a VIP for them.
He hadn’t said it yet, but she wondered if it was his apology for ignoring her for two days now. It wasn’t entirely his fault; she’d been wrong, too. She shouldn’t have helped Owen, and she shouldn’t have gotten mad at Lev, either. She’d planned to make him dinner tonight to apologize for the way she acted, but he beat her to it.
Eating in a place like this was an experience she was going to cherish forever. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been homeless, broken-hearted, and struggling to survive. And then she’d met Lev, and he’d changed everything. She was grateful to him.
Lev pulled out a chair for her with a smooth, practiced motion. “After you,” he said, his voice a blend of warmth and excitement.
She’d seen him every day for the last weeks since they’d been married, yet she couldn’t get over how handsome he was. The aura around him and the way he carried himself made him even more captivating.
She also hadn’t expected him to be a romantic, giving her flowers and chocolate, but he did. Butterflies had fluttered in her stomach when he told her he was taking her to dinner, even more when he gave her those flowers. It was a constant struggle to remind herself not to fall in love with him.
And even then, she was losing. Her body reacted to this man in ways she didn’t think it could. Just sitting next to him made every cell in her body tingle, and her mind these days couldn’t think of anything or anyone besides him.
He’d consumed her and imprinted himself in every fiber of her. She couldn’t live without him. She couldn’t imagine herself existing without him.
“Thank you,” Zia replied, settling into the seat. She couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the sheer luxury of it all. This was a far cry from the simple cafes and bistros she was used to.
Another waiter appeared as if by magic, presenting a wine list bound in rich leather. Lev exchanged a few quiet words with him before turning his attention back to Zia.
“I hope you like Bordeaux,” he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.
Zia smiled, slightly embarrassed because she didn’t even have a single idea what that was.
“I’m sure I will,” she replied, feeling her cheeks warm under his gaze. There was something about the way he looked at her—so intense, so focused—that made her feel like she was the only person in the room.
As they waited for their first course, Zia took in the details of the room. The soft strains of a piano drifted through hidden speakers, mingling with the murmur of distant conversation. Everything was designed to create a romantic atmosphere.
“So,” Lev began, leaning forward slightly. “What do you think?”
“It’s… incredible,” Zia said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never been anywhere like this.”
Lev’s smile was genuine, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted tonight to be special. We haven’t had a date or dinner together since we got married.”
“To be frank, I never thought I would ever get a chance to eat in a fancy restaurant,” she admitted. “I’m only able to because of you. Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. You’re my wife. It’s my duty to make you happy.” His expression turned more serious, which slightly bothered Zia. “About the other day, with Owen—”
“No,” she cut in. “I’m sorry about that day. I shouldn’t have done what I did., I don’t want to talk about him. He’s bad news.”
She wondered if she should tell him about Owen’s threats before he left but decided against it. Owen was an idiot who had nothing without the help of his parents. He was no match for Lev. It would be useless bringing him up and ruining the mood.
“If you say so.”
The door opened and a server came in with what he referred to as an amuse-bouche. Lev explained that it simply meant appetizer.
All Zia cared about was that it tasted good. It shredded duck confit mixed with spices and fat, served on crispy crostini and garnished with cornichons.
The first course arrived just as the server was leaving. Lev had ordered smoked salmon carpaccio with dill and lemon, and she’d done the same, trusting his judgment. The waiter placed a plate in front of her, and she gushed at the thinly sliced smoked salmon drizzled with lemon juice and olive oil, topped with capers, fresh dill, and red onion.
She marveled at the artistry of the dishes. They were almost too beautiful to be eaten. Taking out her phone from her purse, she snapped the dishes.
A second waiter walked in with a bucket of ice, a bottle of Bordeaux, and two wine glasses. He opened the bottle, filled the two glasses with wine, and placed what was left in the bucket of ice.
“Enjoy your meal,” the waiters said and left the table.
Lev gestured to the food. “Eat.”
