Page 59 of Their Reckless Thief
I waved the dress. “A date, sweetheart. You know, dinner, conversation, all that. And you’ll look killer in this. So, get moving.”
She looked down at the dress, then back at me. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” I replied, stepping inside like I owned the place, because that’s how I rolled. I brushed past her and plopped down on the couch, making myself comfortable. “Ten minutes. I’m counting.”
Celeste groaned and ran a hand through her hair, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she took the dress from me. “You’re insane,” she muttered as she went to the room.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetheart,” I called after her. I was loving her flustered reaction.
I glanced around her apartment. It was tiny, but it had a certain charm, like everything about Celeste. One thing, however, stood out starkly. Vivian was sitting at the table, eyes fixed on her laptop, clearly pretending I wasn’t even there.
Perfect.
“Hey,” I said with a smile. “How’s it going?”
She didn’t even glance in my direction. “Fine.”
I chuckled and leaned back against the cushions. “Okay then.” I tapped my fingers against the arm of the couch, letting the tension between us hang for a few seconds. “Working on anything interesting?”
Vivian sighed. “Nope. Just... work.” She didn’t add anything more, and that was that.
All right, no small talk with Vivian. Noted.
Luckily, before things could get any more uncomfortable, I heard Celeste’s door open. When I looked up, my breath caught in my throat. The dress I’d picked out fit her like a glove. Her curves, her legs… Every inch of her was perfectly highlighted in that sleek fabric.
I let out a low whistle. “Damn, Celeste.”
She smirked and did a little twirl, the dress swaying around her hips. “Not bad, right?” she teased.
“Not bad at all.” I stood and offered her my arm. “Shall we?”
She arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Where exactly are you taking me?”
I smiled and took her hand, leading her toward the door. “Somewhere special.”
The drive into Manhattan was quiet, the lights of the city growing brighter as we crossed the Hudson. The skyline stretched out like an endless, glittering promise. By the time we reached the restaurant, the city had settled into its nighttime rhythm—late dinners, couples strolling hand in hand, the occasional street performer strumming a guitar.
Amicco Italian Restaurant was nestled in a cozy corner of Greenwich Village, its warm lights spilling out onto the cobblestone street. The aroma of fresh basil and garlic drifted from the entrance, mingling with the crisp autumn air.
Celeste stopped short, tugging on my arm. “You brought mehere?” she whispered in disbelief. “Dorian, this place is impossible to get into. It’s, like, a six-month wait.”
I grinned. “Good thing I don’t wait.”
Inside, the restaurant was a haven of polished marble floors, soft candlelight, and the quiet murmur of conversation. Thehostess greeted us by name, and I guided Celeste to a private table in the corner, away from prying eyes.
She sank into her chair, still eyeing me like I’d pulled off a magic trick. “How did you manage this?”
I shrugged. “Perks of knowing the right people.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes, but I could tell she was impressed. She sipped her wine, and I saw some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
We talked through dinner, the conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine. She told me about growing up in Newark, how the city had shaped her—its grit, its pulse, its sharp edges. She spoke of the nights she’d spent staring at the Manhattan skyline, wondering what life was like on the other side of the river.
“I used to think the city was some kind of dream,” she admitted, twirling the pasta around her fork. “Like, if you could make it there, everything else would fall into place. But the closer you get, the more you realize it’s just another kind of beast.”
“Tell me more about your parents.” I took a sip of wine, hoping the question wouldn’t throw off the steady stream of conversation.
She picked at her pasta for a moment and sighed. “Sometimes I can’t remember much about them. I was young when they left. I remember them kissing me goodbye. They were dressed up and said they were going on a date. We lived next door to a nice, elderly couple, and my parents trusted them to check on me. I had their phone number by the phone.”
