Page 7 of The Contract

And I can tell—hewantsto win it.

The scent of seared steak and warm, whiskey-infused butter fills the space between us, decadent and heavy in the air.

My slow-braised short rib sits before me, glazed in a deep espresso-balsamic reduction that glistens under the low, goldenlight. Beneath it, a truffle-infused parsnip purée spreads across the plate like silk.

Across from me, his meal is just as indulgent—a bone-in, dry-aged Wagyu ribeye, flame-seared, finished with black garlic and whiskey-infused butter, served alongside charred rosemary potatoes.

It’s anartful display of excess.

But none of it matters the second I take my first bite.

The richness coats my tongue instantly—deep, complex, perfectly tender. I can taste every note of the reduction, the way it complements the smoky sear of the beef, the creamy truffle lingering at the edges.

A quiet sound escapes me before I can stop it—a soft, appreciative hum of pleasure.

I close my eyes, letting the flavors settle.

I don’t care that he’s watching me.

I don’t care that I canfeelthe weight of his gaze, the quiet patience with which he observes.

This meal is mine.

And I won’t let a stranger—no matter how devastatingly handsome—ruin my indulgence.

When I finally open my eyes, his smirk is waiting.

“Good?” he asks, though it’s clear he already knows the answer.

I pick up my wineglass, leveling him with a cool look over the rim. “I don’t waste time on anything that isn’t.”

His smirk widens.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

And just like that, our evening shifts.

The conversation flows effortlessly, an endless back-and-forth where neither of us holds back.

Hechallengesme.

And I push right back.

Every comment, every observation, is a test—one neither of us is willing to fail.

Somewhere between the first glass of wine and the second, I forget to be cautious.

Somewhere between his sharp wit and the deep timbre of his voice, I forget to keep my distance.

I can’t recall the exact moment, but at some point—he moved next to me.

Our bodies have turned in toward each other.

The bottle he ordered, sitting between us, was another extravagant choice, the kind of expensive request he threw around without hesitation.

“Did I invite you over here?” I murmur, tilting my head slightly, suddenly aware of his close proximity.

His mouth quirks, his elbow resting on the back of the booth, his body angled more toward mine.

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