44. ADRIANA
ADRIANA
J oey hailed a cab, and we sped through the streets until we reached the Theatre on 44th Street, where Look After Lulu lit up the marquee. “A Broadway show?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.
“Only the best for you,” he said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He stood on the curb, helping me out of the back of the cab.
I pushed aside the nagging thought about how he never bothered to pay the driver, and how the cab driver didn’t even expect it. It was a detail I couldn’t ignore, yet I chose to. I silenced that voice in my head, refusing to see him for anything other than the man standing right in front of me—the one whose presence consumed my every thought.
He led the way into the building, as everyone we passed greeted him like he was some sort of celebrity, as if he were JFK himself. We settled into the plush, front-row seats. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Joey watching me instead of the show.
“Watch the show, Joey,” I whispered, nudging him with my elbow .
“I am,” he replied, his gaze steady on me. Heat crept into my cheeks as I turned my attention back to the performance.
I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the beauty of New York City when I first arrived that night. I was too consumed by fear, too broken to notice much. But tonight, I saw it all—Times Square in all its glitz and glamour. I noticed how people stepped aside as we walked hand in hand. Men tipped their hats to him, and women glanced our way.
In this world, Joey was someone—powerful, untouchable.
But in that moment, with my arm wrapped around his, I felt more powerful than I’d ever felt before.
“Thank you. Tonight has been incredible,” I said, turning to face him as we strolled down the sidewalk. He gave me a soft smile before he stopped in front of a sparkling sign that read, 21 Club .
One of Manhattan’s finest restaurants.
The doorman opened the door for us, and the waitress guided us to our seats without so much as a second glance. He didn’t need to say a word—they knew who he was. And I knew it, too. Joey pulled out my chair for me, and I settled into the plush seat, catching a faint whiff of his aftershave as he leaned close. It made me dizzy. Hungry.
The way the waiter treated him, with such admiration and respect, would’ve made even the Queen of England jealous.
Oh, Joey was a charmer. He could charm the pants off a snake, and I had no doubt that tonight, I’d be his next victim.
“You know if you’re going to pull out all the stops on the first date, you’re setting the bar very high for yourself,” I told him.
He chuckled, his grin widening. “Sweetheart, this is the first date. Not the last.”
I smirked, arching a brow. “Confident, are we?”
Joey leaned in slightly, his fingertips brushing my leg. “Just stating the facts.” His touch burned through the fabric of my dress, lingering and making me lightheaded.
Joey knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of. I searched for signs of the danger I had learned to expect in powerful men, but they didn’t exist in Joey.
At least, not this version of Joey. The one he only revealed to me.