HARLEM
He leads me to his Rolls Royce and I get in. We drive silently to a restaurant I wouldn't have touched with a ten-foot pole with my former financial situation and I realize I'm not exactly dressed according to the number of stars rated on that restaurant.
"Uhh, maybe my outfit isn't the perfect choice… for this restaurant." I say as a chauffeur walks over to open the door and park the car.
Ezra's eyes slowly trail from my eyes to my feet. SLOWLY. Heat cascades down my entire being and it's just so silly how my body reacts to such a… heated look. I squirm slightly and he tears his eyes away and looks into my eyes.
"You look perfect, Harlem. Always." He says and I instantly believe him. Yup, I'm doomed.
I bite my lip and look away as my door is opened by the bowing chauffeur. Talk about a whole new level.
