The waiter placed the dessert menus between us, but I barely glanced at mine.
Lawrence's gaze was still on me, steady and deliberate, as if weighing his next move.
I could feel it—the shift in the air, the quiet unraveling of whatever wall I thought I had put up.
"Would you like something sweet?" he asked, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper.
I tilted my head slightly. "Are you offering me dessert or something else entirely?"
His lips twitched, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he picked up the menu, skimming through it leisurely.
"The Valrhona chocolate soufflé is a classic," he mused. "Decadent, rich… unforgettable."
My heart gave an unexpected thud. Was it just me, or was he describing more than just dessert?
I reached for my glass, taking a slow sip to cover the heat creeping up my neck. "I prefer something lighter."
His eyes flickered with amusement. "Afraid of indulgence?"
"Afraid of excess." I set my glass down. "Too much of anything can be dangerous."
He nodded, as if considering my words, then turned to the waiter.
"We'll have the soufflé," he said smoothly.
I raised a brow. "You didn't ask me what I wanted."
He met my gaze, unbothered. "I already knew."
A quiet challenge.
I exhaled softly, leaning back into my chair. "You assume a lot about me, Mr. Winston."
"Only what I can already see," he murmured.
The soufflé arrived minutes later, perfectly risen, served with a side of vanilla bean ice cream and a delicate drizzle of raspberry coulis.
Lawrence took the first bite, his expression giving nothing away. Then, he slid the spoon across the table toward me.
"Try it."
It wasn't a request.
I hesitated for half a second before taking the spoon, dipping it into the warm, molten center. The richness of the chocolate melted onto my tongue, balanced by the cool, creamy contrast of the ice cream.
A small hum of appreciation left my lips.
His gaze sharpened. "See? Not all indulgence is dangerous."
I swallowed, setting the spoon down carefully. "That depends on what you're indulging in."
For the first time tonight, silence stretched between us—not awkward, not tense, just… waiting.
I could feel the weight of it, pressing, lingering, unraveling.
I wasn't sure if it was the wine, the heat from the soufflé, or just the way he was looking at me…
But something told me this night was far from over.