I laugh. “Badass.” Then I look around. “Watch out, little fish, or else we’ll eat you, too.” I grab my glass of champagne and finish it, and it’s quickly refilled by someone waiting in the wings. The man comes out again, this time with two plates, and places them in front of Mark and me. He explains what we are eating and then goes away.

“Where is this food from?” I ask him, and he looks at me. “Is it a secret?”

“My friend, Eric, likes to cook,” he tells me, “so I asked him to cook for us.” The food melts in my mouth. Every single bite is better than the last one, and plate after plate comes out until finally, the dessert comes out.

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had,” I say as I finish off the warm chocolate fondant with smoked chocolate and a marshmallow on top.

“I hope everything was to your liking,” the man says, and I look up. “Chef Eric sends his regards and says next time he hopes you will come in so he can cook for you there.”

“It was amazing as always,” Mark says, and then the man leaves.

“Why do I feel like Chef Eric is a big deal?” I tell him, taking the last sip of my champagne while Markos shrugs. “You aren’t going to tell me?” I watch Mark get up from his chair and come to my side, and my head tilts back to look at him. “What if I’m craving his food?”

One of his hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he bends down so his lips are close to mine. I watch him the whole time, expecting him to kiss me, waiting for him to kiss me, wanting him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he moves his mouth to my ear, and he whispers, “Then you call me, and I’ll take you there.” His breath on my ear makes me shiver.

“You are obsessed with me calling you,” I tell him, and his face comes back to hover over me.

“I’m obsessed with you, Vivienne,” he tells me and then finally kisses me with the taste of chocolate on his lips. The kiss leaves me breathless, making my whole body want his touch, but then he pulls away from my lips. He holds out his hand for me, and I grab it, putting my napkin on the table and picking up my purse. “Let go see the sharks.”

“Or,” I say, “you can take me back to your house and show me that shower again.” His eyes twinkle in the darkness. “I somehow seem to have forgotten about that one. So technically, we only had sex five times.”

He comes close to me now. “I don’t do odd numbers.” He pushes the hair that came loose from my bun behind my ear. “Always even.”