Gosto had reserved the entire restaurant for us every table, every chair, every square inch of itjust for our date. He told me he wanted me to feel safe, comfortable. Some might call it a display of dominance, a way to flex his wealth and power. But I didn’t see it that way. It felt personal. Thoughtful. As if I mattered. As if I was... cherished. That feeling alone was so foreign, I had to resist the urge to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t some elaborate dream.

The restaurant was ...