I did not sleep much the night before the dinner.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I was preparing.
I lay in bed replaying scenarios in my mind. Questions they might ask. Weaknesses in the proposal. Areas they would test.
They would test me.
Not Adrian.
Me.
By morning, I felt sharp instead of nervous.
The dress I chose was deliberate. Deep emerald silk. Structured at the shoulders. Clean lines. No softness that suggested hesitation.
When I stepped into the living room, Adrian looked up from his phone.
His gaze moved slowly over me.
“You’re not dressing to impress,” he observed.
“No.”
“What are you dressing for?”
“To be remembered.”
A flicker of something crossed his expression. Approval. Interest.
“Good,” he said.
The private dining room was smaller than the rooftop event
