Pauline's POV
"Thank you so much, Praetor Zion!" The words rolled off my tongue with deliberate sweetness as platters of steaming food materialized before us like magic.
Zion's expression shifted to that familiar look of mild irritation mixed with resignation. He'd asked us countless times to drop the formal title, but where was the fun in that? Months ago, the thought of joking around with him would have seemed impossible. Now, thanks to Windsor's influence, his edges had softened considerably.
The restaurant buzzed around us as waiters continued their endless parade of dishes. This wasn't just dinner - it was an invasion of culinary excess. Zion hadn't simply ordered meals for four people. He'd apparently decided to purchase half the menu. Every specialty, every signature dish, every chef's recommendation found its way to our table until the surface disappeared beneath a mountain of plates.
The most beautiful part? His credit card was taking the hit.
