Page 17 of Convenient Vows

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod, hoping I don’t look as breathless as I feel.

He opens the car door himself — not a driver, not a guard. Just him. I slide in, heart racing, barely noticing the smooth leather or the quiet hum of the engine.

The drive is silent, but not awkward. It’s electric.

We pull up outside a five-star restaurant tucked into the side of a luxury hotel — one of those places that doesn’t need a sign because everyone who matters already knows it’s there.

Inside, the maître d’ leads us to a private alcove — dim lighting, rich velvet curtains, a secluded table set for two. No security details, no hovering staff. Just us.

Zasha pulls out my chair with a quiet, assured grace, and we sit.

I clear my throat lightly.

“So… this is unexpected.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“I thought it was important to speak. Without our families.”

His voice is smooth and professional; however, his eyes are sharp and watchful, and he doesn’t miss a thing.

The waiter arrives, placing menus in front of us.

“Have you planned for us to have anything in particular?” I ask, knowing that someone like him would have everything planed to the last detail.

Zasha glances at me. “Order whatever you’d like.”

I scan the options quickly, suppressing a grin.

“The seafood boil platter, please.”

The waiter blinks in surprise but nods.

Zasha lifts a brow.

“Ambitious.”

I smile sweetly.

“I’m hungrier than I look.”

When the dish arrives — a glorious pile of crab legs, shrimp, mussels, and corn dripping with spiced butter — I waste no time rolling up my sleeves. I place the napkin on my lap and don the transparent glove that comes with the meal.

Zasha watches silently as I snap a crab leg with practiced ease, sauce dripping down my covered fingers.

“You’re full of surprises,” he murmurs, amusement flickering at the edge of his mouth.

I glance up, licking butter from my thumb.

“You expected me to pick at a salad?”

“I expected you to pretend to,” he says smoothly.

I laugh softly, warmth bubbling in my chest.

“You have a lot to learn about me, Mr Petrov.”

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