Page 114 of In Control

God, this feels good. Like it used to be. Like it should always have been.

I’m pretty certain The Star of Asia curry house has never had a limo pull up outside its doors, pink or not. The staff actually gather around the entrance, watching as we all tumble out still laughing after we finally let Gabe take a hold of the microphone. That man cannot sing for shit, yet he wails as if he’s Celine Bloody Dion.

The curry house itself is small and filled with rugby and football teams and groups of students, plus a few groups of older guys like us who still remember that this place serves the best peshwari naan on the planet.

As we settle into cushioned chairs with velvet surfaces that have been rubbed away over the years, I pass Sophia a menu. “Have you ever eaten Indian before?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but it was in a five-star restaurant, wasn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer that, hiding behind the menu instead.

“Need help choosing? How spicy can you handle it?”

She lowers her menu, and peers over the top. “I think you know I can handle my spice, Alpha.”

“Do not get into a dick swinging contest with Liam over spice, pretty little thing. I have plans for you tonight that do not involve a toilet bowl,” Gabe says. Roman prods him with his elbow. “Innocent plans,” Gabe qualifies, then adds in a low voice, “Mostly.”

“Do not worry. I intend to walk out of this restaurant with all my taste buds still intact. I’ve no interest in having my tongue singed off.”

“Want something sweet instead, sweetheart?” Esra asks, and I’m wondering if this is Sophia’s influence because I’ve never seen him so relaxed and … attentive.

“Hmmm.” She scans her eyes over the menu. “Just pick what you want and I’ll have a bit of everything.”

I shake my head, covering my mouth to suppress my chuckle. I can’t catch the eye of the others or I’ll erupt into full-on peals of laughter, but I can hear Gabe sniggering beside me.

“What?” Sophia asks, flattening the menu down on the table and smoothing her palms across it.

“That’s our girl,” is all Gabe will say.

We order every type of curry and rice dish we think Sophia should try as well as the usual poppadoms with pickles, samosas, bhajis and three different types of naan. There’s enough to feed a bloody army but with three alphas around the table we make a pretty decent job at finishing off the food.

Sophia does exactly as promised, spooning a bit of everything onto her plate and umming and ahhing her way through the dishes. Sometimes her face melts into pleasure, sending all the blood in our bodies running south; at other times she screws up her nose and sneezes when the spice is too much. It’s actually fucking adorable and has me wanting to drag her onto my lap.

Finally, we’re defeated. Roman crunches up his napkin and tosses it onto the table.

“I’m done. I can’t eat any more.”

“There’s so much left!” Sophia says.

“We’ll ask for doggy bags.” I signal to the waiter.

“They do that?”

“And here I was thinking you were worldly-wise.”

She settles in her chair. “This was fun. Thank you.”

“Oh jeez, we’re doomed,” Gabe says. “‘Fun’?”

“Fun is good,” Sophia says, before scrunching up her nose, “trust me a lot of dates I’ve been on were not fun.” She dabs her mouth with her napkin. “So where to next?”

“Home,” Esra tells her. A wicked smile forms across her face. “No, we’re taking you back to Rosie’s.”

“I’m not sure she’d appreciate all of you–”

“No,” I clarify, “we’re not coming in.”

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