Chapter 8
562 Words
Aria's POV
What was I even doing? This was insane. I was a maid going to dinner with... what? A hotel owner? Something more dangerous? The other staff talked about him in hushed tones, but no one ever said exactly what his business was.
I settled on the burgundy dress, my hands shaking as I zipped it up. It hugged my curves without being too revealing, fell just above my knees. Modest but elegant, at least I hoped. I practiced walking in my only pair of heels, checking my reflection obsessively.
The girl staring back at me looked nervous, out of place, like she was playing dress-up in someone else's life.
Twenty minutes early, I paced my small apartment, checking the clock every few seconds. What if the car didn't come? What if this was all some cruel joke? What if he'd forgotten about me entirely?
When the knock came at my door, my heart nearly stopped.
"Miss Aria?" The man in the hallway wore a crisp black suit, his expression professionally neutral. "Mr. Voss sent me."
The ride through the city felt surreal. I pressed myself against the leather seat, watching the buildings blur past tinted windows. Everything about this car screamed money—the smooth ride, the faint scent of expensive leather, the silence that felt like luxury itself.
When we pulled up to the restaurant, my mouth went dry. Valet parking. A doorman. The kind of place I'd only seen in movies.
And there he was, waiting by the entrance.
Adrian stood with easy confidence, his dark suit perfectly tailored, gray eyes scanning the street until they found me. When our gazes met through the car window, something electric shot through my chest.
The door opened, and suddenly he was there, offering his hand to help me out.
"Aria." His voice was low, warm. "You look beautiful."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Thank you."
His hand was warm, steady, as he guided me toward the entrance. I felt every eye in the vicinity tracking our movement, but his attention was entirely focused on me.
"Nervous?" he asked quietly as we approached the host stand.
"Terrified," I admitted before I could stop myself.
His lips curved slightly. "Good." That means this matters to you."
The restaurant was everything I'd expected and more—dim lighting, crystal glasses catching candlelight, the quiet murmur of conversations that spoke of business deals and political connections. I felt completely out of my depth.
Adrian guided me to a corner table, private, intimate. He pulled out my chair, a gesture so natural I suspected he'd done it countless times before, but his attention made it feel like the first time for both of us.
"So," he said once we were seated, his gray eyes studying me across the white tablecloth. "Tell me something I don't know about you."
I twisted my napkin in my lap. "There's not much to tell."
"I doubt that." He leaned back slightly, completely at ease, while I felt like my heart might beat right out of my chest. "What did you want to be when you were little? Before life got in the way?"
The question caught me off guard. Most people asked what I did, not what I'd wanted to do.
"A nurse," I said softly, surprised by my own honesty. "I wanted to help people." Take care of them.
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