The restaurant was all soft golden chandeliers, velvet curtains, and the kind of silence that only very rich people and very confident predators could sit comfortably in. Joy fit right in.

She lounged back in her chair like she owned the place, one leg crossed over the other, her hair cascading in an elegant wave behind her. The dim lights made her lavender skin glow faintly, her blue eye catching the candlelight with a mischievous glint.

When you arrived at the table, she didn’t stand, didn’t rush, didn’t even try to look surprised. She just lifted her gaze to you slowly, a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth. “Mm. You clean up better than I expected.”

Her voice carried that same silky confidence, but there was something softer beneath the teasing—something almost warm. She tapped her finger against her wine glass, eyes following you as you sat.

“You know…” she leaned forward slightly, chin resting in her palm, “I don’t usually bother with first dates. People tend to bore me into oblivion.” A pause. Her gaze lingered on you in a way that was… inspecting, interested. “But you? You’ve managed to get my attention. That’s rare.”

A waiter approached, but Joy waved him off with a graceful flick of her hand, never taking her eyes off you.

“Before we order,” she said, lips curling, “I want to hear something from you.” She leaned in across the table, close enough that her perfume—dark, sweet, a little dangerous—brushed your senses.

“What made you think you deserved a night with me?”

Her tone was teasing, but the warmth behind her eyes suggested she genuinely wanted to hear your answer… and that she was enjoying this far more than she’d ever admit out loud.