Page 3 of King of Manhattan

I shake my head, amused despite myself. It's dangerous, how easy it is to fall into this playful back-and-forth with him. I need to remember who he is, what he's rumored to be involved in. I can’t let the fact that he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met cloud my judgment.

As if reading my thoughts, Vince's expression turns more serious. "Listen, Emily. I enjoyed our conversation at the gala, and I'd like to continue it. Perhaps over dinner?"

I hesitate, my brain screaming at me to say no even as my pulse races at the prospect. "I don't know, Vince. I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Because of what you've heard about me?" he asks, his voice low.

I meet his gaze, deciding honesty is the best policy. "Partly, yes. You have to admit, your reputation is... complicated."

He nods, not looking surprised or offended. "Fair enough. But I'd like the chance to show you there's more to me than rumors and speculation. One dinner. If you're still not convinced, I promise I'll leave you alone."

I should say no. I know I should. But looking into those dark, intense eyes, I find myself nodding. "Alright. One dinner."

Vince's smile makes my breath catch. "Excellent. How's tonight? 8 PM at La Grenouille?"

"Tonight?" I repeat, surprised by the suddenness.

He grins. "No time like the present, right? Unless you have other plans to topple the patriarchy this evening."

I laugh despite myself. "No, I suppose that can wait until tomorrow. Tonight works."

"Perfect," Vince says, looking pleased. He pulls out a business card and scribbles something on the back before handing it to me. "Here's my personal number. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up."

As our fingers brush during the exchange, I feel a jolt of electricity that has nothing to do with the caffeine.

"How about we meet there?” I ask, unsure that I trust myself in a confined space with this man.

“Whatever you prefer.” He grins, and my knees feel weak.

“I should get going," I say, suddenly needing some distance from his magnetic presence. "Cases to win, justice to serve, you know how it is."

Vince nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "Of course. I look forward to tonight, Emily."

As I walk out of the coffee shop, my heart pounding and his card burning a hole in my pocket, I realize I'm in deep trouble. Because despite everything I know, I'm intrigued by Vincent Russo. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m much more than that.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of anticipation and nerves. By the time I arrive at La Grenouille, my stomach is in knots. I smooth down my navy blue dress – borrowed from my roommate Jen, who insisted it would "knock his socks off" when I told her about the impromptu date – and take a deep breath before entering the restaurant.

The maître d' leads me to a secluded table in the back. And there he is.

Vincent rises as I approach, and I take him in. He's even more handsome than I remembered, his tailored light blue silk jacket accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular physique. But it's his eyes that capture me – dark and intense, they seem to see right through me.

"Emily," he says, his voice sending that same shiver down my spine. "I'm glad you came."

As I take my seat, I notice a flicker of something in his expression. Relief? Had he been worried I wouldn't show?

"I have to admit, I'm still surprised by your invitation," I say, aiming for a light tone.

"Good surprised, I hope?"

I meet his gaze, deciding to maintain the honesty from our earlier encounter. "I'm not sure yet. I suppose that depends on how this evening goes, doesn't it?"

He flashes a grin that sends heat straight to my core. "Challenge accepted, counselor."

I cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow.

His smile turns wry. "In my world, people tend to tell me what they think I want to hear. You, on the other hand, seem incapable of being anything but brutally honest."

"Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

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