The restaurant glittered like a secret breathed in crystal.. Soft light, velvet chairs, a jazz violin played somewhere behind crystal and candle flame. The kind of place men like him didn’t need reservations for —they were the reservation. He didn’t touch me when we walked in, he also didn’t have to.
His presence traced down my spine like gloved fingers — ownership without contact, awareness disguised as air pressure. He ordered for us just like every other time. Not to control — to curate. And I'd always let him. My father once said a powerful man shows his love by tending your world, not just your body. Ahmir tended me, like a man trained to conquer.
The table was wide — but it felt like he sat in my space anyway. He didn’t look at the menu. He watched me, as if he was memorizing micro
