Bastian
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, as I watched Alara enter the restaurant. The minute she stepped inside, her eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. Her bright smile—calculated and false—was enough to make me smirk. She played the game well, I had to give her that. But today, she was walking into a trap she didn’t even realize had been set.
Alara walked over, her high heels clicking against the marble floor, and sat down opposite me, still wearing that overly cheerful expression. “Bastian,” she greeted, her tone warm, almost too warm. “Always a pleasure. It’s been a while.”
I nodded in response, not bothering to mirror her forced friendliness. The waiter came by, and we ordered our meals. I didn’t care what I ate, the food wasn’t why I was here. Once the waiter le
