4
761 Words
The pasta place was warm and crowded, the air thick with garlic and wine and the low hum of voices layered over clinking silverware.
Ramsi felt it the moment she stepped inside.
Eyes. Weight. Space shifting.
She chose a table near the window, not with her back to it—but angled just enough to see the reflection in the glass. A compromise she didn’t love.
Sage noticed. Of course she did.
“You’re doing the thing,” Sage said, sliding into her chair.
“I’m sitting.”
“You’re anticipating.”
Ramsi ignored her, scanning the room once more before the server arrived.
Wine appeared. Sage accepted eagerly. Ramsi let her glass sit untouched.
“So,” Sage said lightly, twirling pasta. “Tall, dark, terrifyingly calm.”
“We’re not discussing him.”
Sage smiled. “You noticed him twice.”
Ramsi lifted her fork. “Because he wanted to be noticed.”
Across the city, Dominic sat at a quieter restaurant, fingers loosely folded, espresso cooling in front of him.
“She chose the pasta place,” Enzo said.
Dominic nodded. “Predictable.”
“And still you’re thinking about her.”
Dominic didn’t answer.
Back at the pasta place, the door opened.
Ramsi didn’t turn—but her spine straightened, breath slowing by instinct alone.
Sage’s eyes flicked up. Her grin widened.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Well. That didn’t take long.”
Ramsi lifted her gaze.
Dominic stood just inside the doorway, jacket dark against the warm lights. His eyes found her immediately, like he’d never lost the thread. The look that crossed his face wasn’t surprise—it was recognition.
Something like satisfaction.
Their eyes held across the room.
Longer than polite. Shorter than safe.
Ramsi broke it first, reaching for her wine and taking a slow sip she didn’t need.
Sage leaned closer. “You feel that, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Dominic crossed the room with unhurried confidence. Enzo followed, quieter, sharper, already reading Ramsi’s posture, the way her fingers rested near her bag.
Dominic stopped beside the table—not crowding, not retreating.
“Good evening,” he said.
Ramsi tilted her head slightly, studying him in return. “You again.”
“Seems that way.”
Sage popped another bite of pasta into her mouth, delighted.
Dominic’s gaze dropped briefly—just once—to Ramsi’s mouth, then back to her eyes.
The heat was instant. Controlled. Mutual.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked.
Ramsi considered him for a beat too long. Then: “Briefly.”
He took the chair opposite her, posture relaxed but coiled, like a man who never forgot where his hands were.
Enzo remained standing, a silent presence.
“You handle attention well,” Dominic said.
Ramsi’s lips curved faintly. “I don’t seek it.”
“No,” he agreed. “You command it.”
Her brow lifted. Not offended. Intrigued.
Sage leaned back, eyes flicking between them. “Wow. Is this foreplay or a job interview?”
Ramsi didn’t look away from Dominic. “Ignore her.”
Dominic smiled. “I’m finding that difficult.”
Enzo cleared his throat softly. “She noticed us immediately.”
Ramsi met his gaze briefly. “You wanted to be noticed.”
Dominic’s smile deepened. “By you.”
A beat. Electric.
The server passed. Laughter bubbled from another table. None of it touched them.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ramsi said quietly.
“Neither should you,” Dominic replied just as softly.
Their voices dropped instinctively, drawing closer without leaning in.
Sage sighed dreamily. “I love this restaurant.”
Ramsi finally leaned back, breaking the spell. “You’ve had your moment.”
Dominic rose smoothly, unoffended. “For now.”
He hesitated, just long enough to let his gaze linger again—unapologetic this time.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he said. “You look like someone who forgets to.”
Her breath hitched before she could stop it.
Enzo inclined his head. “We’ll be seeing you.”
They turned to leave.
Sage waited until the door shut before whispering, “You are absolutely going to see him again.”
Ramsi stared at her wine, pulse betraying her calm. “You’re banned from speaking.”
Sage grinned. “Worth it.”
Across the street, Dominic paused, glancing back through the window.
This time, Ramsi didn’t look away.
And the look they shared—through glass, distance, and restraint—felt like a promise neither of them had made… yet.
- Writer
