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The restaurant was tucked away on a small street where everything moved slower. Candlelight covered the tables, music played low enough for people to talk without raising their voices, and nobody seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

I sat across from Azaria at a small table near the window. She wore a white veil tonight, light enough to fall across her face without taking away from everything else she had on.

I respected the veil. If she wasn’t ready for the world to see her yet, nobody was going to force her.

Everything else about her made it hard not to look.

The dress fit her body the way it was supposed to, diamonds covered her neck and wrist, and the heels she wore were high as hell. She looked expensive enough to fit into my world without anybody questioning why she was beside me.

The waiter came over, and I ordered in French before Azaria had enough time to decide what she wanted. I got steak for myself, then ordered grilled chicken with roasted potatoes and sparkling apple cider for her.

When the waiter walked away, she looked across the table at me.

“You always order for people?”

“Only when they take too long. You looked at that menu upside down.”

“It wasn’t upside down. You’re controlling.”

“Efficient.”

Her sparkling cider arrived, and she took a sip while I put my hand on her leg under the table. I moved it higher along her inner thigh, and she paused with the glass still near her lips.

She didn’t move my hand.

“You see?” she said. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

I moved closer so she could hear me without anybody else listening.

“You complaining?”

Her lips curved behind the veil. “Not yet.”

Our food came a few minutes later, and Azaria ate while watching me as if she had been trying to figure me out the entire day.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

I cut another piece of steak before looking at her.

“Because you’re mine now.”

I wasn’t threatening her. As far as I was concerned, I was telling her what both of our families had already put on paper.

Azaria stared at me before shaking her head. “You really believe that shit too.”

“I signed my name, didn’t I?”

“So did I. That doesn’t mean you own me.”

“I know.”

That answer seemed to surprise her more than arguing would have.

Dinner lasted almost two hours because neither one of us was in a rush. We talked, ate, and spent enough time touching each other under the table for her to stop pretending she hated every second of being around me.

By the time I paid the bill and we stepped outside, Paris had gotten cooler.

I took off my jacket and put it around Azaria before we started walking through the old streets. Music drifted from nearby bars while people moved around us, and for a while, there was nothing to argue about.