Page 31 of Eat Slay Love

In this shared dream, nothing else mattered; no one else existed.

He turned to me, and his green eyes reflected the vibrant colors from the aquarium below. They were a world unto themselves, and I found myself entranced by their depths.

He gestured to our table. “Do you like this?”

“It’s incredible.”

“It is.”

The waitress approached our table with two glasses, tall and elegant, encased in swirling smoke that curled around the rims like a spell being cast.

I sat forward, intrigued, watching the way the light caught the mist, shifting it into soft ribbons of white.

“Good evening.” She set the glasses down in front of us.

I took her in.

She was stunning—deep brown skin, high cheekbones, and a confident smirk that said she’d seen it all. Her sleek black uniform fit like a second skin, and her short, coiled curls framed her face like a halo.

I liked her already.

"This is our first-course pairing, an exclusive cocktail that only exists within these walls." She held her hands out. "It’s called The Golden Mirage. Infused with aged Louis XIII cognac, saffron honey, Tahitian vanilla, and just a hint of smoked cinnamon, it’s meant to awaken the senses—warmth, depth, a little bit of magic."

I blinked. "Did you say Louis XIII?"

She smirked. "Oh yeah. That’s about five grand a bottle. So, don’t waste a drop."

My eyes widened. "Oh, I wasn’t planning on it."

She chuckled. "It also has edible gold flakes, a hint of passionfruit puree, and a little touch of bergamot to round out the experience. Stir it gently before you sip. Let it coat your tongue."

Mr. Lyon nodded. "Very impressive."

She gave him a look. "I know, right? You’re about to drink a car payment."

I laughed, and she winked before giving us both a little nod. "Enjoy, you two."

And with that, she sauntered off, leaving me staring at the ridiculously expensive drink in front of me.

He reached for his first, picking up the stem between two fingers before swirling it lightly. The golden flakes inside caught the candlelight, swirling like tiny stars suspended in amber.

Next, he lifted the glass to his lips, took a slow sip, and then gave a single approving nod. "Impressive."

I lifted my own glass, watching the smoke curl away as I brought it to my lips.

And then. . .

Oh.

Warmth.

Depth.

A perfect balance of rich, golden honey and smooth vanilla, kissed with the faintest whisper of spice.

Damn.

It rolled over my tongue like liquid silk, coating every inch of my mouth in something so decadent, so indulgent, that I nearly moaned.

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