Anabella Clayton's POV:
As the lights of Hudsonia Plaza flickered to life, Randolph and I stepped into an authentic Sindarath eatery.
It was one of those hidden gems tucked away in a narrow alley—no gilded moldings here, just an intimate space where guests were expected to kick off their shoes and dine on floor cushions. Randolph looked momentarily derailed. Clearly, the prospect of baring his feet in front of a lady felt like a breach of his social firewall.
"Not your style?" I asked.
"No, it's just... unfamiliar. I rarely eat Sindarath. I assumed you would..."
"Demand some real cuisine? Take your wallet for a ride?" I teased with a grin.
He finally let out a laugh, his features softening. "Well, you must know by now—I'm not exactly struggling for cash."
The perennial furrow in his
