Page 67 of The Merciless Don's Bride

“I like you better this way.”

“Well, considering we’re about to walk into a restaurant with God knows how many people, I’d rather not look like you just fucked me in here.”

His lips grow heated, “That wasn’t me fucking you, Cassie. That was just an appetizer. I’m not sure how much you remember, but I’ll make sure you never forget again.”

I never forgot, how could I? But I don’t tell him, I look forward to his threat.

“Also the restaurant isn’t filled with anyone,” he says.

My brows furrow, just as the elevator doors finally open. I’d give him an A-plus for the distraction tactics. I completely forgot all the claustrophobia I was feeling as soon as his fingers were inside of me. He’s good at what he does.

“What does that mean?” I ask, linking my hand through his arm when he offers.

“I mean, sweetheart,” he drawls, leading me into the beautiful, tastefully decorated empty restaurant, “I rented the entire place out.”

I roll my eyes. I think one flaw of his is that he likes unnecessary ostentatious displays of wealth. For example offered to fly me out to Cabo for our honeymoon after our wedding. And now this. It’s attractively arrogant if that’s even a thing.

We’re welcomed into the restaurant by only the staff who take the time to apologize again for the incident in the elevator. I’m too busy taking in the grand piano tucked into one corner ofthe restaurant, tables draped in white linen gleam with crystal glasses and polished silver. Everything is soft candlelight and velvet shadows, quiet and warm and impossibly elegant.

It’s perfect.

Damien pulls out my chair for me at the table in the center of the room. My stomach does a little flutter as I sit on the plush chair cushion. A bottle of red wine waits in a silver bucket beside the table, already uncorked. Damien lifts it and pours for the both of us with practiced ease.

“I would have ordered us some whiskey but I figured this is more appropriate,” he teases.

My eyes narrow, “You have got to let that go.”

He chuckles shortly before raising his glass for a toast, “You’ll like the wine.”

I clink our glasses together before taking a sip. It’s smooth and smoky, dry enough to make my lips part slightly in surprise.

“Good?” he asks watching me.

“Very,” I agree.

A waiter appears out of nowhere, offering menus. Another places a tiny plate of amuse-bouche between us. it’s an artful tower of avocado, shrimp and mango on a porcelain spoon. We place our orders and are left alone. Damien leans back slightly in his chair, swirling his wine.

“So, what do we do now?” he asks.

I can’t help a smile at that, “You sound unsure like you’ve never taken a woman on a date before.”

“Most of the women I’ve been with were never important enough to me. Never important enough for this.”

I feel a quick flare of jealous at the thought of him being with other women but I tamp it down.

“Ah, and how many women are we talking about?” I question, meeting his gaze.

He smiles, “You don’t want the answer to that question,mi vida.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Damien,” I retort.

Amusement gleans in his eyes, “Don’t talk back.”

“Don’t be a controlling asshole,” I snap back.

“You just keep adding on to the list of things I’ll be punishing you for after,” he threatens, heat in his tone.

My stomach flutters. Damn butterflies.

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