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I have no idea where I want to go on our date until Tathan decides for me.

He chooses an authentic Brazilian restaurant Fogo De Chao Brazilian Steak House. I’ve never been there, but Casey and Bryan went not too long ago and raved about it for days.

We meet in the hall at the apartments, me in my little black dress that I know he can’t resist.

He’s wearing dark slacks, and a gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The relaxed look really works for him. Did I mention he’s wearing a black tie?

I want to be tied up with it. I want it bound around my wrists while he worships my body before him. Is that too much to ask?

I didn’t think so.

The restaurant is in Scottsdale across town, and it doesn’t take too long to get there. It is, however, the first time I’ve ever been in his car. It’s sleek with black leather that smells amazing.

By his car, how he furnishes his home, and the way he dresses, it is abundantly clear Tathan likes nice things. I don’t blame him on that one. Nice things are, well, nice, and he works hard to afford them.

He pulls up to the door, the lights dancing across the hood of his shiny car. A man dressed in a black suit reaches for the handle of my door, another for his, and we’re both escorted from the car.

Tathan hands the man closer to him the keys and then reaches for my hand.

I take it, being polite. “You’re trying your best, aren’t you?”

“One needs to be confident around you, and it’s my job to protect the pride, right?”

I stifle a laugh.

As we walk inside, we’re greeted by the host. “How may I help you?”

“Reservations for Madsen,” Tathan says, leaning into her. There’s something I’ve never noticed about him which I find endearing. When he talks to you, he leans in, as if you have his full attention. He doesn’t do this to flirt. It’s his way of letting you know he cares.

They seat us near the window. White tablecloths cover the round table for two, and the place settings are already beautifully arranged. It reminds me of Casey’s wedding last night.

“Have you ever been here?” I ask, taking in my surroundings.

He nods. “Yeah, Paul brought my brothers and me here a couple months ago. We all have dinner about once a month.”

“How long have you done that?”

“Since my parents died.” I hate the sad eyes that drift my way. “It was Paul’s way of continuing my dad’s tradition.”

“Your dad took you to dinner once a month?”

He nods again and looks over at the waiter as they deliver a bottle of wine to the table. He thanks them and then turns back to me. “It was something he started when we were little. Kind of like a boys’ night, I guess.”

I sigh.

It’s quite the event they have planned for this type of dining experience. First you get your salad, which is pretty much a meal in itself with fresh vegetables, imported cheese and sides to choose from. Then when you’re finished with your salad, you turn over this coin on your table to green.

Gaucho chefs wearing light blue shirts with red ties come to your table with fire roasted meats and slice you off pieces. Endless amounts too. Anything you want they pretty much have. When you’re done, you flip the coin to the red side.

I’ve never experienced anything like this, and I think Tathan can sense that.

“How’s the Picanha?” Tathan asks, taking a sip of his wine and watching me closely.

I’m impressed he can say that because I can’t. “Mmmm.” I moan around the tines.

“Don’t moan. . . .”

“Oh, but the pussy is delicious.” My hand immediately flies to my mouth, catching myself, but it’s too late. I want to die. Stab myself with this very fork.