Sinner's Grace

Dinner With a Stranger

The following day, I leave the house much earlier than usual for work. Alina and Hazel are in the living room, their chatter about boys and makeup echoing through the house. It's the perfect excuse to escape.

"Good morning," I greet Brenda as soon as I step inside the restaurant. She's tidying up the counter, her hair tied back into a neat bun.

"Morning," she replies with a warm smile. "You're early."

"I was bored at home," I admit, shrugging.

Her smile softens. "Hope you're doing okay?"

"Yeah," I reply, smiling back. "Thanks for asking."

I head toward the backroom to change into my work uniform. The familiar routine helps calm my nerves and gives me a sense of purpose, something I desperately need right now.

Vickie shows up just past noon, looking unusually tired and frustrated. She disappears into the backroom to change and returns a few minutes later, still looking drained.

"You okay?" I ask, noticing her sluggish demeanor.

"Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed. My mom's not feeling well, so I won't be able to stay too long. You'll have to cover for me."

"What? Double shift? Vickie, I don't know if I can—"

"It's fine," she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. "I talked to Sandy, and she said she's bringing someone to assist you. I just... I need to get home to check on my mom."

"Is she doing better?" I ask, concern lacing my tone.

"She's hanging in there. Thanks for asking, Ivy," she says with a tired smile before walking toward a customer to take his order.

I sigh. Today's going to be the longest day. I can feel it.

Surprisingly, though, the day moves faster than I expected. By the time the clock inches closer to 7:00 p.m., I feel like a sad, worn-out widow. Every muscle in my body aches, and I can't help but lean against the counter for a moment to catch my breath.

I grab the used dishes and cutlery from one of the tables and head toward the kitchen. On my way out, Sonya, the manager, intercepts me, her no-nonsense expression making me pause.

"You're closing at 9:00 p.m. tonight," she states bluntly.

"I can't," I reply, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

"Why not?"

"I just... I can't. I already handled half of Vickie's shift." I hesitate, knowing I can't exactly tell her I have a 7:00 p.m. curfew enforced by my parents. She'd think I was a child.

She narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "It's not debatable, Ivy. You're staying past your closing hour. It's not like you have a choice, do you?" Her tone is sharp as she gives me a once-over before walking away.

I clench my jaw, watching her retreating figure. *What's her problem?*

Sighing, I glance at the clock, the bright numbers mocking me. Two more hours. Two long, miserable hours.

I slump against the counter, ready to sulk in silence. Just as I'm gathering my thoughts, the bell above the door jingles. I look up and there he is—Kade Sterling—walking in like he owns the place, his head held high and his sharp gaze scanning the restaurant until it locks on me.

He strides toward me, utterly unbothered by the curious stares he's drawing.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's 7," he replies matter-of-factly.

"I can't," I protest. "I'm working."

His eyes flick toward Sonya, who is openly watching us with interest from the far end of the diner.

"Your boss?" he asks, tilting his head slightly toward her.

"Manager," I clarify, feeling the heat of her stare.

Kade nods, and without a word, turns on his heel and walks straight to Sonya. I watch, wide-eyed, as she visibly perks up, subtly adjusting her blouse and patting her hair into place.

*What the heck am I witnessing?*

"Hello, welcome to Sandy's Place." Sonya's voice comes out honeyed, a tone I've never heard her use before.

"You need to let Ivy off work," Kade states, his voice low and commanding.

"Uh?" Sonya stammers, clearly taken aback.

"It's 7 p.m.," he continues, his tone firm. "She's supposed to be done by now. Why is she still here?"

There's a pause as Kade fixes her with a look I can't see, but its effect is immediate. Sonya glances at me briefly before turning her attention back to him.

"Sure," she says with an overly bright smile. "Of course, she can leave."

"Good."

Kade doesn't wait for further confirmation. He strides back to the counter, his movements exuding an effortless confidence that draws every gaze in the room.

"You can get your pretty ass out of there," he says casually as he leans against the counter, his gray eyes glinting with mischief.

*Wait. Did he just call me pretty? Or... my ass pretty?*

I nod mutely and step out from behind the counter, hurrying to the backroom to change. The smell of coffee and spices clings to me, and I can't wait to get out of my work uniform.

Just as I'm changing, Sonya's voice startles me.

"So, you're his new toy, huh?"

I whirl around, my heart racing. "Jesus, do you have to do that?"

She smirks, folding her arms. "He's Kade Sterling. You know what he wants, right? It's not rocket science."

I blink at her, trying to process her insinuation. "I am nobody's toy," I snap, my voice firmer than I expected.

Sonya shrugs. "He just wants to—"

"I don't want to hear it," I cut her off, grabbing my bag. "Thanks for letting me leave early." I don't wait for her response as I storm out of the back room.

When I step outside, the cool evening air hits me, but it does little to calm my nerves. Kade is leaning against a sleek black sports car, his usual aura of effortless dominance on full display. The tinted windows and gleaming paintwork scream luxury.

*How many cars does this man have?*

A cigarette dangles between his lips, and he takes a long drag, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. His eyes meet mine, and I feel his gaze slowly rake over me, head to toe, lingering just long enough to make me squirm.

"What?" I blurt out. "I'm grateful you bailed me out, but I really don't want to go on a date with you."

He doesn't respond immediately; instead, he takes another slow drag before exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. Somehow, he makes the act look dangerously attractive, and I hate him for it.

"Are you gonna say something?" I press, shifting uncomfortably under his steady gaze. "I need to leave and go home."

Kade remains silent for another beat, his expression unreadable. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out beneath the heel of his shoe, grinding it into the pavement with an effortless grace.

"You know smoking poses serious health risks, right?" I say, trying to sound casual, though my voice betrays my nervousness.

A faint smirk tugs at his lips. He steps away from the car, moving closer until he's within arm's reach. Without a word, he opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get in.

"I know," he says simply. "Get in."

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"That's correct. You don't."

"I could just run away."

I glance at Kade, who raises an eyebrow and then shifts his gaze to my legs with a smirk that's equal parts infuriating and captivating.

"With those legs?" he drawls, his voice teasing. "I don't think so. Get in."

I groan softly, torn between wanting to argue and knowing he's probably right. Running wouldn't get me far, and his car—sleek and powerful—would catch up to me in seconds.

Reluctantly, I walk toward the car and slip inside, the plush leather seat cool against my back. He shuts the door with a quiet finality before rounding the hood to take his place in the driver's seat.

As he settles in, he glances at my seatbelt, smirking as I buckle it. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than necessary before he ignites the engine.

"Good to know you care about safety," he says with a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"You're the one who should care," I mutter.

Kade reverses out of the parking lot without bothering to check for traffic, and the car lurches forward as he accelerates. The city becomes a blur of lights and shadows as we speed through the streets.

"You're going to get us killed!" I snap, gripping the edge of my seat as he weaves through cars with unnerving ease.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Little Saint," he says, throwing me a wink that makes my stomach flip in ways I wish it wouldn't.

I scowl and turn my gaze to the tinted window, watching the city streak past. The man drives like he owns the road, and for all I know, he might.

Kade pulls up in front of a high-end restaurant, its sleek facade glowing under the city lights. He parks with a precision that's almost as annoying as it is impressive, then turns to look at me, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You look disoriented," he says, clearly amused.

I glare at him, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I'm sorry to announce this, but you need to go back to rehab. Nobody drives like that."

"Or," he counters smoothly, "you could drive us back to your house. If that's what you want."

"What?" I blink, caught off guard.

He grins, unlocking the doors. "You're welcome to try. Why not?"

"You're going to let me drive your car?" I ask skeptically as he steps out, closing the door with a soft click.

"Why not?" he repeats casually.

*This man is ridiculous.*

I step out, glancing at the restaurant. "Italian or French?" I ask, trying to distract myself from his maddening presence.

"You're about to find out," he replies cryptically.

Before I can say anything else, Kade surprises me by taking my hand in his. His grip is firm but not overwhelming, his calloused palm a stark contrast to the softness of mine. I glance at our entwined hands, my heartbeat inexplicably speeding up.

*What is happening to me?*

Kade leads me inside, his commanding presence drawing glances from every corner of the room. I feel self-conscious as I notice the male patrons dressed in crisp suits and the women draped in elegant evening gowns. Compared to them, I look woefully out of place in my plain jeans and hoodie.

Kade, however, doesn't seem to care—or maybe he thrives on the contrast. His dark jeans, ripped jacket, and black T-shirt give him an edge that makes him stand out even more.

"Reservation for Kade Sterling," he tells the hostess at the front desk.

Her expression brightens, her professional smile slipping into something more personal. "Welcome, Mr. Sterling. This way, please."

Her gaze drops to our hands, and her smile falters slightly. I try to pull my hand away, but Kade's grip tightens just enough to keep me from escaping.

He catches my eye and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," I mutter, sighing as he leads me toward a table.

Our reserved table is in a quiet corner, and Kade pulls out a chair for me. I give him a hesitant smile, mumbling a "thank you" as I sit down. He takes the seat across from me, his gray eyes never leaving my face.

I fiddle with the edge of my sleeve, unable to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes feels like too much, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of how plain I must look in this setting.

"Can you stop looking at me like that?" I blurt out, breaking the silence.

"Like what?" he asks, a teasing note in his voice.

"Like that!" I snap, gesturing vaguely toward his face.

Kade leans back, his smirk widening. "Are you nervous? Or just scared?"

I roll my eyes, desperate to regain some semblance of control. "Why are you doing this?"

"You just dodged my question," he says, leaning forward.

I'm spared from answering when a waitress approaches, her bright smile contrasting the tension at the table.

"Hello, I'm Emily, and I'll be your waitress this evening. Can I get you started with something while you decide what to order?"

"What would you like to start with?" Kade asks, his gaze still on me.

"Water," I reply quickly.

"Bottle of wine," he says, turning to the waitress.

Emily nods and leaves, her steps light and professional.

"What would you like to eat?" Kade asks again.

"I'm not hungry," I lie, folding my arms across my chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I insist, but my stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly.

"Oh, God," I mutter, covering my face with my hands.

Kade smirks and shakes his head. "So, you were saying?"

I roll my eyes and pick up the menu. From behind the laminated pages, I can hear him chuckling under his breath, and it takes everything in me not to throw the menu at him. Slowly, I lower it just enough to glare at him.

"You don't have to be a jackass, you know?"

"Yeah," he replies casually, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "So, what are you having?"

"Lasagna is okay."

"Good choice."

I narrow my eyes, deciding to press further. "Are you some sort of celebrity that I'm not aware of?" I glance between the menu and the man sitting across from me, my curiosity growing with each second.

"I'm not a celebrity."

"Yeah? But I see the eyes."

He tilts his head. "What eyes?" His confusion almost feels genuine, but there's no way he doesn't notice the attention he gets wherever he goes.

"You know..." I gesture around the restaurant, dropping the menu to prove my point. Just in time, a woman sitting across from her date steals a glance at Kade. I tilt my head toward her and smirk. "Yup, those eyes."

Kade follows my gaze, catching the woman mid-glance. She blushes furiously and looks away, focusing intently on her food.

He shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I give him a look, my skepticism clear. "You're a terrible liar, but I get it. You probably enjoy the attention."

Before he can respond, the waitress returns with our drinks. She carefully places the wine in front of Kade, her hands lingering as she pours him a nearly full glass. Her smile is almost too wide as she places another glass in front of me, alongside a bottle of water.

"Would you like me to pour yours?" she asks sweetly.

"No, it's fine. I got it," I reply, giving her a polite smile.

The waitress nods and turns back to Kade, her eyes softening. "Would you like to hear our specials?"

"No need." Kade shakes his head, his attention squarely on me. "Get her lasagna."

The waitress hesitates, clearly disappointed, before leaving us alone.

"You're not eating?" I ask, trying to fill the silence.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You should eat something. You need it."

He leans forward slightly, his smirk turning playful. "You could feed me if you're that concerned."

"What?" I laugh, shaking my head. "That's not happening."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not playing mommy," I quip, grabbing the water bottle to hide my embarrassment.

"Cool," he says with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "I'm good watching you eat anyway."

"Now that's just creepy, don't you think?"

"You mean staring at you while you eat? I thought that was romantic," he teases, his grin widening.

"Right," I mutter, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. I bite my bottom lip, trying to suppress the blush threatening to creep onto my face.

The waitress returns moments later, placing a steaming plate of lasagna in front of me.

"Thank you," I say, genuinely grateful.

"You're welcome. Will that be all for now?"

"Yes, thank you," Kade replies before she can turn her attention back to him.

Grabbing my fork, I dive into the lasagna. The first bite melts in my mouth, the flavors rich and comforting. Without meaning to, I let out a small, satisfied moan.

"This is really good," I mutter, savoring the taste.

Looking up, I find Kade watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip for reasons unrelated to hunger. His unwavering gaze feels like a spotlight.

"You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I'm going to think there's something wrong with me," I say, stuffing another bite into my mouth for good measure.

Kade smirks, his voice low and teasing. "You're beautiful. I can't help it."

The compliment catches me off guard. My heart skips a beat, and I nearly choke on my food. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I immediately lower my gaze, reaching for the glass of water.

*No one has called me beautiful in years—except Marcus.* The thought dampens the warmth in my chest.

"Are you okay?" Kade's voice pulls me back to the present.

"Hmm?" I look up, locking eyes with his stormy gray ones.

"I said, are you okay? You look like you're constipated."

"What?" I nearly spit out my water, laughing harder than I have in years.

Kade grins, clearly pleased with himself. "At least that made you laugh."

"Was that your intention?" I ask, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.

"You could say that."

I shake my head, chuckling softly. As I return to my food, I can't help but feel the warmth of Kade's gaze on me. He's not just watching me—he's studying me as if trying to figure out who I really am beneath all the walls I've built.

"You were a nun, right?"

His question feels like a sudden blow, knocking the air out of my lungs. My blood runs cold, and the memories I've worked so hard to bury claw their way to the surface. My grip on the fork tightens as I try to steady my breathing.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say quietly, my voice trembling more than I intended.

Kade doesn't push. He leans back in his chair, watching me with an expression that is neither prying nor judgmental. There's an odd gentleness in his gaze that I hadn't noticed before.

"That's okay," he says simply, raising his glass of wine to his lips.

I stare at him, a little stunned by his restraint. For a man like Kade, I expected him to press harder, to demand answers. But he doesn't.

Still, the tension bubbling under my skin is unbearable. I set my fork down with a sigh. "Can we leave?"

Kade's brows knit together in concern. "Is it because of what I asked?"

"No, not really. I'm just..." My words trail off. How could I explain to him that I feel like I'm balancing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong step away from tumbling into the abyss? That the conversation had struck a nerve so deep it made me want to cry? I swallow the lump in my throat and force a small smile. "It's nothing."

Kade tilts his head slightly, his gray eyes searching mine. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low and sincere.

Before I can respond, he signals for the waitress. She approaches with the bill, her smile more for him than me. Kade doesn't even glance at the total as he pulls out his card and hands it to her. The motion is smooth, confident, and entirely him.

She inserts the card into the machine and then hands it back to him to enter his PIN. He does so with ease, ignoring the receipt she offers as he takes his card back and slips it into his wallet.

"Let's go," he says, standing.

I nod, following his lead as we make our way toward the exit. The cool night air greets us as we step outside, and I finally take a deep breath, letting the tension ease from my shoulders.

The drive back is quiet. Kade doesn't play any music, and I don't feel the need to fill the silence. It's a comfortable sort of quiet, broken only by the hum of the car engine and the occasional sound of passing cars.

When he parks on the same spot down my street as he had the previous day, I hesitate. My hand rests on the seat belt buckle as I turn to look at him. He's already watching me, his gray eyes soft yet unreadable in the dim light.

"Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn't respond, but there's something in the slight nod he gives me that feels like an acknowledgment. He presses a button, and the passenger door opens on its own.

I step out, shutting the door behind me, and glance back just in time to see him drive away, his taillights disappearing into the night.

As I walk to my house, I feel a strange heaviness settle over me, a weight I can't quite explain. Once inside, I go straight to my room, shutting the door behind me.

I sit on the edge of my bed, replaying the events of the evening in my mind. Every look, every word, every quiet moment with Kade Sterling seems to take on a life of its own, filling my head with questions I can't answer.

*What does he want from me?*

I climb into bed, pulling the covers up to