Jason had closed billion-dollar deals in less time than it took Gigi Jasmine to answer his invitation.
He waited all evening, his phone within reach, pretending to focus on the reports spread across his desk. Every vibration made his chest tighten, only to deflate when it wasn’t her. By eight o’clock, irritation had started to gnaw at him.
Then, at 8:17, a single text appeared.
“Bellamy Bistro. Nine.”
No flourish. No emoji. No explanation. Just her, setting the terms like she owned the moment. Jason couldn’t help but grin.
The Bellamy Bistro wasn’t the kind of place Jason usually dined in. It was small, tucked into a cobblestone corner near the gallery, candlelit with soft jazz spilling through its windows. The walls were lined with old photographs of Bellamy Square from decades ago,
