Chapter 9
547 Words
Aria's POV
Something shifted in his expression curiosity, maybe approval. "What stopped you?"
"Money. Time. Reality." I shrugged, trying to make light of dreams that still ached when I poked at them. "Life doesn't always cooperate with our plans."
"No," he agreed, his voice thoughtful. "It doesn't." But that doesn't mean the plans are wrong.
I looked up, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since we'd sat down. There was something in his eyes I hadn't expected understanding, maybe even respect.
"What about you?" I found myself asking. "What did you want to be?"
His smile was different now, less controlled. "Free."
The single word hung between us, loaded with meaning I couldn't quite grasp.
The conversation flowed easier after that. He asked about books I loved, places I wanted to travel, small dreams I'd never shared with anyone. I found myself laughing, actually laughing at something he said about the pretentious couple at the next table.
When he reached for his wine glass, his fingers brushed mine on the table. The contact was brief, probably accidental, but it sent sparks racing up my arm. His eyes met mine, and I wondered if he'd felt it too.
By the time our plates were cleared, I realized something had shifted. The careful distance I'd maintained, the wall I'd built to protect myself it was crumbling. And the most terrifying part was that I wanted it to fall.
"Would you like to see something?" Adrian asked as the waiter brought our check.
"What kind of something?" I asked, though part of me already knew I'd say yes to whatever he suggested.
His smile was slow, dangerous. "Trust me?"
I should have said no. Should have asked him to take me home. Should have remembered that I was nobody special, and he was... whatever he was.
Instead, I nodded.
"Yes."
Adrian's POV
Watching her was intoxicating. The way her fingers trembled with the menu, her careful attempts to appear composed—I saw everything. The lip biting, the hesitant glances, the slight pullback when she thought I’d catch her staring.
I’d brought countless women to dinners like this models, heiresses, women trained in charm and deceit. But Aria… she was different. Real. Genuine.
“Order whatever you want,” I said softly, just enough for command to seep into my tone. I wanted her to understand that here, in this moment, she could choose. Yet I’d already made my decision about her.
Her eyes widened at my insistence. Gratitude, fear, vulnerability. I wanted to protect it. Destroy it. Both, depending on my mood.
Questions came naturally her books, her small dreams, the worlds she imagined beyond the walls of the hotel. Each answer peeled back another layer, revealing a life untouched by mine.
Romance novels. Of course, she read about love stories and happy endings. A dangerous man with power. A quiet girl with fire hidden beneath her surface. She embodied that fantasy, yet she was alive. Real. And I was fascinated.
As dessert arrived, my hand brushed hers. Sparks. Unspoken acknowledgment of something neither of us could name yet.
I leaned closer, voice low. “Aria, I want to show you something." After dinner.”
Her breath caught, eyes wide, trembling fingers wrapping around her water glass.
- Writer
