The Emperor Heir

Chapter 4: A Date That Wasn't a Date

Sophia spent most of the night telling herself she wasn't thinking about Adrian. The harder she tried not to, the more he showed up anyway — standing by the door after the coffee spill, laughing easier than a stranger had any right to, making her feel comfortable in a way that didn't make sense.

He belonged to a world she knew nothing about — expensive clothes, an expensive car, a family name that carried weight hers never would. She had a small bedroom, a tired café, and a family that counted every dollar. Men like Adrian didn't usually notice women like her.

She pulled the blanket higher. "This is ridiculous," she muttered to the dark. She'd known him for a matter of days. There was no good reason to still be awake thinking about him.

She arrived at the café the next morning determined to put it out of her mind. That lasted until nine-thirty, when the door opened and he walked in like he belonged there.

"You look disappointed," he said, smiling.

"I don't."

"You do."

"I was hoping for a quiet morning."

"Sorry to ruin it."

"You are." He laughed and took his usual seat by the window. She brought the menu over anyway. "You're becoming a regular."

"I suppose I am."

"Regulars eventually try something besides black coffee."

"I thought you liked my order."

"I do. I'm just trying to improve you as a customer."

He scanned the menu. "What do you recommend?"

"Blueberry pancakes."

"Then that's what I'll have."

She turned to go put the order in. "Wait," he said. She looked back. "Sit with me."

"I have work."

"You have five minutes."

"I don't have five minutes."

"You've been watching the clock since I walked in."

"I have not."

She checked. It was almost ten. He raised an eyebrow, and she scowled and pulled out the chair across from him anyway. "Five minutes."

"Deal."

Neither of them said anything for a second, and she laughed. "This is awkward."

"You're the one who sat down."

"You asked."

"And you said yes."

"Do you always argue this much?"

"Only when I'm enjoying the conversation." She looked away before he could catch her smiling, though from the look on his face, he already had.

"Eat your pancakes," she said, and went back to the counter, aware of him watching her work while he ate. The café wasn't much to look at — old furniture, a counter that had seen better decades — but there was something honest about it, and he thought he understood, a little better now, why she loved it.

When he finished, he came to pay. She told him the total; he handed her a bill that covered several breakfasts.

"Adrian. This is too much."

"It's a tip."

"It's an insult."

"How is a tip an insult?"

"Because it's more than the meal costs."

"Then keep it."

"No." She pushed it back across the counter. He studied her for a second.

"You really don't like taking money from me."

"I don't like being treated differently because you're rich."

Something in his face eased. "That's not why I'm giving it to you."

"Then why?"

"I enjoyed breakfast."

"That's not how tips work."

"Maybe I'm making my own rules."

She laughed despite herself. "You're spoiled."

"So I've been told." He took the money back, and for a moment she genuinely forgot he was heir to one of the wealthiest families in the region — he was just a man who argued with her over pancakes.

At the door, he turned. "Are you free tonight?"

"What?"

"Dinner."

"Like a date?"

"If you want to call it that."

"No." The word came out fast. "We barely know each other."

"That can be fixed."

"Besides, I work."

"You work every day."

"Exactly."

He stepped closer. "Then let me take you somewhere after you finish."

"Why?"

"Because I want to spend time with you." It was a simple answer. Too simple, maybe, for how much weight it carried. She looked away, unsure what to do with the warmth spreading through her chest.

"Adrian—"

"You don't have to decide now." He opened the door. "I'll come back this evening."

He left before she could argue further, and she stood there staring at the closed door, already knowing she should say no and already fairly sure she wouldn't.

That evening she spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear before settling on a dark blue dress she'd bought months ago and barely touched since. She looked at herself in the mirror. "This isn't a date," she told her reflection. She didn't believe it.

Adrian arrived at seven, waiting by his car. When he saw her, he stopped for a second before his eyes moved back to her face. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Her cheeks warmed as she said it.

He opened the passenger door. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet."

"That sounds suspicious."

"You'll survive."

The drive was quiet as Hammondsport thinned out behind them. "You still haven't told me where we're going," she said.

"You'll find out."

"You like keeping secrets."

"Not with you." He glanced over. "It means I'm still figuring out how much of my life I want you to know."

She didn't fully understand that, but before she could ask, the road curved toward a lakeside overlook and he pulled over. She got out, and the view took the question right out of her head — the lake spread out under the last orange light of evening, still enough to look painted.

"You brought me here?"

"I thought you'd like it."

"I do." They stood there without needing to fill the silence, which was new for both of them.

"Why me?" she asked eventually.

He looked at her. "Because when I'm with you, I don't feel like Adrian Emperor."

"Then who do you feel like?"

"Just Adrian."

Neither of them said anything else for a moment. Whatever this was, it had stopped being a stranger and a barista somewhere between the coffee spill and this overlook, and the silence between them said more than either of them was ready to say out loud.

Then his phone rang. His whole expression changed the second he saw the name on the screen.

"Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer right away — just stared at the screen for a few seconds before picking up. "Father."

Whatever warmth had been in his face a moment ago was gone, replaced by something colder. He listened, said little, and his eyes found Sophia's before he spoke again.

"I'm coming home." He ended the call.

"What happened?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "My father knows I'm with you."

And from the way he said it — flat, careful, bracing for something — Sophia understood that the Emperor family wasn't going to be nearly as easy about this as Adrian was.