The candle flickered dramatically between us, casting soft shadows across Dario’s cheekbones like the universe was trying to remind me he was irritating and dangerously hot.
Unfortunately, it worked.
I took another bite of chicken to avoid saying something impulsive like “Do you glare at all your dinner guests like that or am I special?”
He was still watching me, fork untouched. “You didn’t tell me how the date ended.”
I paused, blinked slowly. “Are you asking as my overprotective landlord or my mildly possessive shadow stalker?”
“Both,” he said without missing a beat.
“Well,” I said, sitting up straighter, “we had dessert. I got the chocolate lava cake. Finn picked up the tab. And no, he didn’t kiss me, before you ask. He was a gentleman.”
His fingers twitched slightly on the stem
