"Archer," I mutter in disbelief at how he could make such a simple request turn out so beautifully.
"Do you like it?" he asks, his hand still in mine, only now he's cupping mine between his other hand, too, like he's afraid I might slip out of his grasp if he doesn't hold on tight.
"Like it?" I glance over at him, my head tilted upward because even with four-inch heels, he's still significantly taller than me. "I love it."
Archer grins and it might just be the best thing I've ever laid my eyes on. "Good. I'm glad." He motions toward the table. "Want to have a seat?"
We walk over and Archer pulls out my chair for me, every action tonight being more chivalrous than the next. It's hard to believe he's a murderer when he's so damn sweet to me.
He leaves me behind to walk over to a table, where a strange metal thing sits on top. He opens the small door and pulls out a pizza box, returning to our table a moment later, and setting it between us. "You asked for pizza, you get pizza." Archer flicks the top open, revealing a steaming cheese pizza from one of the best pizza shops on the entire East Coast. How he managed to get it here while getting all these lights up and everything else, I'll never know.
I'm sure Archer's endless bank account had something to do with it.
"Champagne?" he asks, pulling a bottle of Dom Perignon out of the bucket.
"Wow, you went all out, didn't you?"
"This is nothing. If you're not going to let me take you out and spoil you, I have to make do with what I can."
"I don't need you to spoil me," I tell him honestly. Sure, I may have grown up with money, but I don't expect it from anyone else, especially a guy. I've lived under the thumb of the cruelest man who ever lived, I don't want to ever do that again.
"I know you don't. I want to. There's a difference there, little tornado." Archer winks at me before uncorking the bottle and pouring us both a glass. He settles into the other seat and takes his glass into his hand.
"What are we cheersing?" I ask him, raising my glass, too.
"The beginning of something beautiful," he responds, my heart skipping a beat again. If he keeps this up, I might need to seek medical attention.
We clink our glasses and take a sip, the taste almost like toasted bread with a hint of vanilla, maybe caramel. I've had Dom in the past, but none of them are as rich and complex as this one.
"This is good," I say while setting the glass down. "Really good."
"I'm pleased you approve." Archer grins, reaching for a slice of pizza and setting it on the plate in front of me, then going back for one for himself."Bon appetit."
"Can you speak French?" I raise an eyebrow at him at having potentially unlocked something about him I didn't already know.
"Oui je peux, petite tornade. Peux-tu?"
I hold out my fingers, pinching them together to signify a small amount."Pas beaucoup."
"What about…J'ai envie de verser ce champagne sur ton corps et de le lécher, goutte à goutte, jusqu'à en obtenir chaque morceau."
My core tightens at hearing the French roll off his tongue so easily, despite having no idea what he's saying. It's sexy either way. "I got theI want toandchampagne, anddrop by drop. What else was it?"
"Maybe you should brush up on your French," he teases and takes a bite of his pizza slice. "Good call on the pizza," he mumbles.
"You have to admit, this is better than going out." I eat some of my pizza, too, the cheese melted perfectly and the sauce has the best balance of sweet and garlicky.
A horn blares in the distance, and the lights of the city pollute our view, and still, I'd rather be here, with him.
"I'm not mad about it," Archer says, his intense stare meeting mine. "So tell me, Miss London, what brings you to New York?"
I smile at him. "Is that what we're doing, pretending we don't know each other?"
"We're on a first date, that's a first-date question."
"Mmm." I swallow the bite in my mouth. "Well, I come here for work. You see, I'm a traveling magician. Gigs all over the country. I'm just passing through, really. Won't be here long."
"A magician, ey?"