When I walk in, I’m stunned to realize this isn’t just any garage. It’s actually quite luxurious and resembles a Costco warehouse with its high ceiling and corrugated metal walls. But there’s no toilet paper here. Instead, the space is filled with all sorts of designer cars and I gasp when I see a Ferrari and a Lamborghini parked near the entrance.
Gray and Joseph chuckle when they see my reaction.
“Seems like you like sports cars,” Gray says humorously.
I shake my head, eyes wide.
“No, I mean yes because who doesn’t? To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a Ferrari in real life before.”
Joseph chuckles and pulls open the door to a black Lexus sedan.
“Well, I hope this is nice enough for you, sweetheart. Your chariot awaits.”
I slide into the vehicle, and it’s utter heaven. The seats are buttery and soft and I breathe deeply of new leather smell. Joseph gets behind the wheel while Gray squeezes into the back seat.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” I ask the tall man. “Here, we can switch and I’ll sit in the back,” I say, already unbuckling my seatbelt. But the gorgeous Senator merely laughs.
“No, it’s fine,” he says, although I appreciate your concern sweetheart. Just pull your seat up a bit and I’ll be fine.”
With that, we pull out of the garage and onto the streets of Manhattan.
“Just in case you’re wondering, we’re headed to New Jersey,” Joseph growls, reaching over and lacing his fingers with mine. “It’ll get us out of the spotlight and provide a bit more privacy. Plus, I think you’ll enjoy Jolene’s because their food is great.”
I smile up at him. “I’m sure I’ll love it, and it’s the company that counts. But what do they serve?”
Gray grins from the back.
“Italian. Well, Italian-American more accurately. In fact, I think the cuisine is so divorced from real Italian that people in Italy might not even recognize it.”
I giggle.
“How so?”
Gray chuckles deep in his chest.
“Well, I doubt real Italians eat garlic knots but I have to say that’s one of my favorite sides. I also like cheese in my pizza crusts, but I doubt that’s authentic either.”
I merely giggle once more.
“Well, authentic is good but tasty is even better. I can’t wait.”
With that, the drive progresses smoothly and soon, we pull up in front of a fancy-looking restaurant. Jolene’s is located in a huge brick building with a large wraparound porch and fairy lights twinkling along the roof overhang. Windows reflect the setting sun, and blossoming bougainvillea vines create an organic feel without being overwhelming. Everything is warm and inviting, and I know before we even make it inside that this is going to be an amazing night.
I’m right because the restaurant’s elegance inside is astonishing, and I gasp while crossing the threshold. The tables are draped with pristine white cloths, with small tea lights create a romantic ambience. Elegantly clad diners sample what looks to be delicious food, and the host bows upon seeing Gray and Joseph.
“Senators,” he purrs. “So nice to see you again. Please, follow me.”
We’re led to a room in the back that’s clearly set up for VIP guests, and I marvel at the discreet elegance. Candles sparkle all about the room, and in the center is a round table set with three chairs with a bud vase featuring one red rose. Even better, there’s a bottle of my favorite Moscato on ice, ready to be enjoyed.
Gray pulls out a chair for me and I sit gracefully as the two of them surround me on both sides. The sommelier pours some Chardonnay to start us off and then departs, allowing us to enjoy our wine.
“Cheers,” I murmur while lifting my glass. “Thank you for bringing me here. I look forward to a delicious meal.”
Both men smile, their blue eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Joseph rumbles.
“More than you know,” Gray adds, looking incredibly handsome in his dark suit. “You look delicious tonight, honey. Did I tell you that already?”
I giggle, my bosom jiggling a bit which makes both men stare.
“I think you did,” is my coy reply. “But thank you again.”
Both men nod, their huge forms looming in the shadows.
“By the way,” Gray mentions. “You have to try the feta and bacon stuffed chicken. It’s delicious.”
I giggle.
“Is that authentic or inauthentic Italian?”
The big man grins.
“Definitely inauthentic, but you know what I say: the more inauthentic, the better.”
The waiter comes by to take our orders before disappearing discreetly, and when the appetizers come out, I’m entranced by the heavenly aromas. Gray and Joseph have ordered mushroom risotto that is to die for, and my lashes flutter shut as I savor each bite.
“If the appetizer is this good, I can’t wait for the rest,” is my ecstatic moan. Then I open my eyes to find both men staring at me, their gazes hungry.