Descent (Black Heart Romance)

I flash him a smile. “Very.”

I expect Calvin to be in the car, but when Hollis lets me in, I’m alone. He tells me Calvin had to finish up work and he’ll meet me at the restaurant.

Hollis pulls up to the curb and shoots off a quick text as he walks around the car. When he opens the door for me, he tells me to go on in; Calvin is waiting.

The icy hostess seems annoyed with me for existing, but I give her Calvin’s name and tell her he’s waiting for me. She grabs two menus and wordlessly makes her way through the busy steakhouse with me right on her heels. I expect her to lead me to an empty table down here, but instead she walks me over to a winding staircase with red carpet cascading down the shiny onyx steps. The doorway is roped off, but she unlatches the red velvet barrier and lets me pass before securing it again behind us.

Nothing explicitly says it’s a VIP area, but it must be.

I suppose I should have expected Calvin would reserve a table in the VIP section.

As soon as we step into the upper dining room, everything feels more relaxed. There are fewer tables up here, more spaced out to allow for more privacy. She leads me to a booth in the corner where Calvin is already seated and looking at his phone with one hand wrapped around a glass of amber liquid. He looks up when he registers movement coming toward him. His gaze lands on me and he smiles, looking me over briefly before meeting my gaze.

He looks genuinely happy to see me.

He also immediately puts his phone away so he can give me his undivided attention.

I smile back.

It might be simple politeness, especially since we have a frosty hostess for an audience. But it might also be because it’s so drastically different from dates like the one I went on with Lance where the guy can hardly be bothered to ask a question about me.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Calvin says standing, and leaning in to kiss me. “How was your day?”

My insides feel warmer than they should. “Good,” I answer as I slide into the seat across from his.

The hostess passes us each a menu, then walks away to retrieve a pitcher of water. There are two empty goblets on the table. She fills them, then tells us our server’s name is Celeste and she will be over with our appetizer in just a moment.

I don’t know if the “hello sweetheart” was also because we had an audience or he really meant it, but I feel a bit bashful, like I really am on a date. I don’t know what to do or say, and I don’t know why I feel so awkward.

“How was your day?” I ask, since he asked how mine was.

“Fine. I wasn’t as productive as I meant to be.”

“No? Neither was I.”

His lips quirk. “Oh, I’d say you were pretty productive.” His gaze warms and hints at mischief. “It’s your fault I didn’t get much done.”

“Was I running through your mind all day?” I joke.

“Yes,” he says, not joking.

“Oh.” I look down, adjusting the napkin on my lap. Looking back up, I ignore the blush I can feel starting on my cheeks. “Is it because I sent you racy pictures?”

“That’s why I didn’t get anything done,” he says, amused. “I’m glad you liked the shoes. I’ll take thank yous like that as often as you want to send them.”

“I love the shoes,” I say, leaning back so I can look at them under the table. Still pretty. I smile faintly at them, then look back at Calvin and my smile ebbs. “I didn’t send them as a thank you, though.”

“No?” he returns as a matter of routine, but I can tell by the look on his face he already knows exactly why I sent them.

I shake my head. “No. I need my phone back. And see, you like when I have my phone. We both win if you just let me have it.”

The corners of his lips lift a bit, but his gaze drops. I feel like he’s displeased that I’m asking for my phone back, and I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. “Do you remember what I said about how much I enjoy when you try to manipulate and control the situation?”

I press my lips together in feigned consideration. “I believe it was something like, ‘only I’m allowed to do that.’”

He nods. “So you do remember.”

“I do. Do you remember how I mentioned this relationship has a power imbalance that’s really uncomfortable for me? Demands like that only deepen the divide.”

Something I’ve said clicks, I see it in his eyes. His faint irritation is wiped away, replaced with a sort of patience, like I’m a child not understanding a simple lesson. “This shouldn’t be comfortable, Hallie. Not right now. It’s brand-new, a dynamic you’re totally unfamiliar with. Of course you’re not comfortable right now. Stop expecting to be. Do it even though you’re not comfortable. I am not a comfortable man, but I believe you can adjust to me. You can become very comfortable, but only if you stop resisting and trying to control everything. I won’t let you, so until you do, we’ll be locked in a power struggle that won’t be much fun for either of us. You have to let go and trust me.”