Aria's POV
The car finally stopped in front of an elegant townhouse, all warm lighting and ivy-covered walls.
"We're here," Damian said, his voice still rougher than usual.
I practically threw myself out of the car the moment the driver opened the door.
Damian followed more slowly, adjusting his jacket in a way that made it very obvious he was trying to hide his arousal.
"This is La Maison," Damian said as we approached. "I've reserved it for the evening."
The entire restaurant. Of course he had.
We were led through an intimate dining room to a private terrace overlooking a garden lit with string lights. Beautiful. Romantic, even — which made this feel less like a business negotiation and more like—
"You're thinking too much," Damian said, pulling out my chair.
