“I know exactly how I want to repay you.”
Those words sent a warm, nervous flutter right down into my stomach. I figured Dominic was going to drive me to some ultra-fancy, Michelin-star glass box downtown where wealthy people whispered over tiny plates of food and waiters treated us like royalty. Instead, his black car zipped past the shiny downtown skyscrapers, headed into a quiet, leafy neighborhood and pulled up in front of a small hidden restaurant with warm yellow lights glowing behind frosted glass windows.
There were no valets shouting names, no flashing cameras, and no scary board members in sight. Just a quiet door with a brass bell that chimed softly when we walked inside.
"Where are we?" I asked, looking around the cozy dining room, which only had about five tables total.
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