The Billionaire’s Sixty-Day Rule

CHAPTER 5: ONE LAST NIGHT OF FREEDOM

BELLA’S POV

I told myself I was not going because I wanted to see him.

That was the first lie I told myself.

The second was that I was only going because I wanted answers.

The third was that I could leave anytime.

That was how I ended up standing outside a restaurant I would never have chosen on my own, staring at the glass doors and wondering why my feet refused to move.

The place was beautiful.

Not the kind of beautiful that screamed for attention.

The kind that quietly reminded you that you were standing somewhere expensive.

Soft golden lights reflected against polished surfaces. The entrance was calm and private. There were no crowds, no people pushing past each other, no loud conversations competing for attention.

Everything felt controlled.

Everything felt like Adrian.

I looked down at my dress.

It was not borrowed this time.

That somehow made me feel worse.

Because tonight, I had chosen to come.

Nobody had pushed me.

Nobody had forced me.

I had agreed.

One dinner.

That was all.

I repeated the words in my head as I walked inside.

One dinner.

Nothing more.

Adrian was already waiting.

Of course he was.

I was beginning to think the man had never been late for anything in his entire life.

He stood when he saw me.

That small gesture caught me off guard.

I expected arrogance.

I expected the version of Adrian Vale everyone described.

The cold billionaire.

The man who controlled everything.

Instead, I saw someone who looked almost relieved.

Like he had been wondering whether I would actually show up.

"You came."

His voice was quiet.

I sat down across from him.

"I said I would."

"Most people say many things."

I looked at him.

"That sounds like experience talking."

Something changed in his expression.

A small shadow crossed his face.

Then it disappeared.

"Maybe it is."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

And strangely, the silence did not feel uncomfortable.

That surprised me.

Usually silence with someone new felt like pressure.

Like you were supposed to fill it.

With Adrian, it felt different.

Like we were both used to silence.

A waiter came and placed menus in front of us.

I opened mine and immediately regretted it.

The prices were enough to make me close it again.

Adrian noticed.

"You don't like the menu?"

"I like the food."

"Then?"

I looked at him.

"I am just trying to understand how a plate of pasta became a financial decision."

A small smile appeared on his face.

"You are serious."

"Very."

"Most people don't look at prices here."

"Most people are probably not wondering if they can pay rent next month."

The smile disappeared.

Not because he was uncomfortable.

Because he was listening.

Actually listening.

And that was something I was not used to.

"You work two jobs."

I looked at him carefully.

"Are we going to talk about that?"

"If you want."

"You already know."

"I know information."

His eyes stayed on mine.

"I don't know your thoughts."

That answer surprised me.

Because it was the first time Adrian admitted there were things he did not know.

"I work because I have to."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

My voice came out stronger than I expected.

He did not look offended.

"I want to understand."

I looked down.

"I don't like depending on people."

"Why?"

The question was simple.

But the answer was not.

Because depending on people meant trusting them.

And trust had always felt like giving someone permission to hurt you.

"I learned that people leave."

The words were out before I could stop them.

Adrian became quiet.

For a second, I regretted saying anything.

Then he spoke.

"I understand."

I looked up.

"You do?"

He nodded slightly.

"More than you think."

That was the first moment I saw something different.

Not the billionaire.

Not the man everyone feared.

Just Adrian.

A man sitting across from me who understood what it meant to carry things alone.

"You don't trust people either."

It was not a question.

His eyes moved toward the window.

"No."

"Why?"

He was silent for a moment.

Then:

"Because people usually want something."

I looked at him.

"That sounds lonely."

A small laugh escaped him.

Not a happy one.

"Maybe it is."

The answer stayed between us.

Because I understood it.

I had always thought money separated people from loneliness.

But maybe it only changed the reason people came close.

Someone like Adrian never had to wonder if people liked him.

He had to wonder if they liked him or what came with him.

Dinner continued slowly.

Not with dramatic conversations.

Not with perfect romantic moments.

Just two people talking.

We talked about small things.

The kind of things that somehow mattered more.

He asked about my dreams.

I told him about wanting my own marketing company someday.

He did not laugh.

He did not tell me it was unrealistic.

He asked questions.

Real questions.

"You already have a plan?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

I smiled slightly.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know."

I looked at him.

"You are strange."

"I have been called worse."

"I believe that."

For a second, we both laughed.

And that scared me more than anything.

Because I was starting to forget why I came.

I was starting to see him as a person.

Not a billionaire.

Not a danger.

Just Adrian.

When dinner ended, neither of us moved immediately.

The restaurant had become quieter.

The lights seemed softer.

The space between us felt different.

Not empty.

Charged.

I noticed the way his attention stayed on me.

Not aggressively.

Not like he expected something.

Like he was trying to memorize something.

"You are still trying to understand me."

His eyes met mine.

"Yes."

"Why?"

The answer came after a pause.

"Because I don't understand why I want to."

My heartbeat changed.

I looked away.

That was the problem with Adrian.

He said things too honestly.

And honesty was harder to fight than confidence.

"I should go."

He nodded.

"Probably."

But neither of us moved.

For one moment, I felt the strange pull between us.

The kind of attraction that made no sense.

The kind you could not explain.

I hated it.

Because Adrian Vale was exactly the kind of man I promised myself I would avoid.

And yet, standing there, I did not feel afraid.

I felt curious.

When I finally reached home, I tried to convince myself the night meant nothing.

One dinner.

One conversation.

A simple mistake.

But before I could even remove my coat, my phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

My stomach tightened.

I opened the message.

A photograph appeared.

My breath stopped.

It was taken tonight.

Outside the restaurant.

Me and Adrian.

Together.

Below the picture was a message.

"You still think this is just a dinner?"

I stared at the screen.

Then another message arrived.

"Ask Adrian why someone wanted you sitting across from him tonight."