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“We’ll see?Psh. The things I want to do to you right now.”
Chuckling, he shook his head, kissed my temple, and whispered, “Watch the movie, Trouble.”
* * *
As the film credits rolled,our uniformed ushers returned and the magnificent lights came back to life.
“Did you enjoy the show?” the first asked as they collected our empty snack boxes, motioning toward the aisle.
“It was perfect,” I said, beaming over my shoulder at a smug-looking Oliver.
“Wonderful. Ready for the next phase of your evening?”
“Next phase?” I balked, turning to see him smirking at his shiny fucking shoes.
Ollie shrugged. “You didn’t think that was it, did you?”
“Kinda,” I squeaked. “Yeah.”
“Follow the gentleman in pinstriped pants, Leigh.”
“You’re bossy tonight.”
“And you like it.”
“How would you know?”
“Because your skin flushes every time I tell you what to do.”
“Oh, itdoes not,” I argued, even as I followed the ushers—limbs buzzing with what was definitely not excitement. (It was totally excitement. Maybe also the second bottle of Coke I’d chugged like a lifeline.)
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Preferably an orgasm or two.”
“Jesus, Leigh.” Grinning, I rushed to keep up with the men in red jackets. They led us through the stunning space to a brass elevator with an old-school control panel. When the doors opened again, we stepped onto the roof.
String lights illuminated a concrete terrace bordered by potted greenery and the building’s brick façade. Beyond that—twinkling city skyline. All to the gentle serenade of a live string quartet playingMoondance.
“Ollie,” I whispered, shaking my head. “This is way too much.”
“Do you know me at all?” he asked in mock offense. “I’mjustgetting started.”
“Don’t say that—I might keel over.”
“You look just fine to me,” he said with a smirk that could melt concrete.
The ushers led us to a sleek bistro table. One of them helped Ollie out of his jacket while the other pulled out my chair and scooted me in like I was royalty. White gloves. Gold name tags. I’d grown up on an island without traffic lights—this wasnotmy normal.
He’d gone all out. No wonder he was so cocky about needing only one night. Some deeply masochistic part of me wanted to know what the hell Carly had been thinking, letting a man like this slip through her fingers. Real men didn’t do this. This was fiction shit.
Maybe that was why she was so bitter. She’d lost a man who made Disney princes look like underachievers and was now making it everybody’s problem.
Before I could ask for a menu, two silver trays were delivered—each topped with a domed lid that was lifted with theatrical precision to reveal...street tacos.
An artfully arranged pile of them. With ramekins full of lime wedges and what had to be hot sauce.
I burst out laughing as Ollie leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. The music shifted again, the opening notes striking a familiar chord, and my spine straightened as my mouth dropped open.