Page 7 of Rescued By Four Alphas
I cross the room, and she reaches up to straighten my already-straight tie. Her fingers brush against my neck, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine.
"Perfect," she murmurs, then rises on her tiptoes to press a kiss on my lips.
I want to deepen the kiss, to carry her to our bed and forget all about dinner reservations, but I restrain myself. "Are you ready to go?"
"Absolutely. I'm starving."
"The babies are hungry?" I place my hand on her small bump.
"The babies are always hungry." She laughs. "I ate an entire box of crackers while getting ready."
I escort her to the car, hyperaware of our surroundings. There are no suspicious vans, no lurking photographers. So far, so good.
"So, how did you manage to get a reservation at Lumière?"
I shoot her a sideways glance. "I bought the building."
"You did not!" She smacks my arm playfully.
"No, but I did invest in the restaurant. The chef is an old friend."
"Of course he is." She rolls her eyes, but her smile remains. "Is there anyone in this city you don't know?"
"The hot dog vendor on Fifth. We haven't been formally introduced."
Her laughter fills the car, and for a moment, I forget about surveillance and security threats. This is what matters to me… to us. Her happiness, her safety.
The restaurant welcomes us with the appropriate fanfare. The maître d' escorts us to a private alcove with a view of the city lights. I requested this specific table for its privacy and the fact that it puts my back to the wall with clear sightlines to all entrances.
"This is beautiful," Dahlia says as she takes her seat.
"Only the best for you."
Our server appears with water and menus. "Mr. Blackthorn, Dr. Baldwin, welcome to Lumière. Chef Michel has prepared a special tasting menu for you this evening, if you'd like."
"That sounds perfect," I answer before Dahlia can respond. "And a bottle of your best non-alcoholic champagne."
The server nods and disappears.
"A tasting menu?" Dahlia raises an eyebrow. "Are you planning to keep me here all night?"
"That was the plan."
She smiles and reaches across the table to take my hand. "I like this plan."
The first course arrives. It's delicate canapés, arranged like a work of art, and Dahlia's eyes widen with delight.
"These look amazing." She takes a bite and makes a sound that should be illegal in public. "Oh my god, Evan. You have to try this."
I watch as she devours the appetizers with unusual speed. When the server returns to clear our plates, she looks almost embarrassed.
"Sorry," she whispers after he leaves. "The pregnancy has turned me into a human garbage disposal."
"Eat as much as you want. You're feeding five."
"True." She rubs her belly absently. "Though I worry about what will happen when they get bigger. Will I need to eat every hour?"
"We'll hire a full-time chef if necessary."
