Bound by fate

Chapter 2

Bryan's pov

I look up to investigate the source of the commotion and I spot her. For a moment, I think that I'm dreaming. The woman I never quite forgot, whose memory crept in uninvited during quiet moments. Her hair is different and shorter than I recall but her eyes; those wide, expressive eyes are unforgettable.

"Well, I'll be damned," I murmur before I can stop myself from saying it. A gentle laugh escapes my lips and I use both hands to rub my face as I attempt to comprehend the unexpected surge of awareness coursing through me.

She's here.

I stand as she approaches, her steps unsteady but determined. She reaches the table and sits down across from me, her movements tense, almost guarded.

"I'll go and bring the menus. Would you like anything to drink?" the waiter interrupts, breaking the silence between us.

"Two glasses of white wine," I say, with my face still fixed on her.

The waiter nods and disappears, leaving us in an uneasy silence that stretches on for eternity.

"I didn't expect to see you here." I finally say, my voice still low and incredulous

Her hands are clasped tightly on her lap, her knuckles white. "Neither did I," she replies in a voice barely audible above a whisper.

I lean back in my chair, studying her. She looks different; older and more guarded but there's still an elegance to her that I can't ignore. It was what drew me to her that night.

"Five years," I say, letting the words hang in the air between us.

Something I couldn't quite read flickers in her eyes; sorrow or perhaps guilt. "It's been a long time," she agrees softly.

The waiter returns with the wine, and I use the moment to collect myself. As he places the glasses on the table, I notice her fingers trembling slightly when she reaches for hers.

I noticed that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring and I wondered what family event Caresha was referring to on the exhibition night.

I reach for my glass and she watches as I gulp my wine, following my every move.

"I never knew you were an artist and You've been busy," I say, my tone casual but pointed. "Your artwork is impressive. The gallery owner couldn't stop singing your praises and I had to pay an exorbitant price for it because I wasn't the only person enthralled by it."

Matilda gives a small, polite smile. "Thank you. It's been a journey to get to this point."

I tilt my head, swirling the wine in my glass. "You've certainly come a long way since that night."

Her gaze snaps to mine, and I see the blush rising on her cheeks. Bingo.

"Please, this isn't the time to talk about that," she retorts, looking away.

"Maybe not," I admit, though the amusement in my voice is hard to hide. "But it's hard not to remember. That night was... memorable, I think of it now and then."

Her fingers clutch the stem of her glass as if it were a lifeline as she moves uneasily. She immediately shifts the topic and asks, "Why did you want to meet me?"

I let her redirect, sensing she was tired of my jabs. "Because your work stood out," I say honestly. "It's raw, powerful, and exactly the kind of thing I want to hang on the walls of my company."

Her brow furrows. "I'm not sure I'm following."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. "I've been looking for the perfect artwork to line the new headquarters—artwork that reflects resilience, creativity, and progress. Your pieces fit that vision perfectly. I'd like to commission you to create a collection for us."

Matilda's lips parted in surprise. "You want me to... paint for your company?"

"Exactly." I smile, watching her reaction. "A full series. You'd have complete creative control, and of course, the compensation would reflect the scale of the project."

She blinks, processing the offer. "That's... unexpected."

"Life has a humorous way of taking us by surprise right?" I say, my tone deepens with meaning.

Her eyes meet mine again, and for a moment, the air feels charged, heavy with words left unsaid. She opens her mouth to respond, but the waiter reappears, interrupting us to ask us if we're ready to order.

As Matilda glances at the menu, her cheeks showing that she's not immune to my charm, I sit back with a faint smile. This meeting was supposed to be about business, but now, with her sitting across from me, I can't help but wonder if it could be something more.

As the waiter walks away, Matilda finally sets the menu down, her composure returning, though her hands were still twitching.

"I'll have to think about it," she says, her voice steady but cautious.

"Of course," I reply, leaning back in my chair. "Take your time. But I'll warn you opportunities like this don't come around often."

Her eyes dart down to her wine glass as she smiles tightly at me. For a moment, the silence between us feels almost unbearable, thick with all the things we aren't saying.

Suddenly, her phone buzzes loudly on the table, abruptly breaking the tension. She glances at the screen worriedly then picks up her phone to answer the call.

"Excuse me," she says politely, standing up to go to a more private area to receive the call.

I take another sip of my wine, my mind already racing.

She returns a few minutes later and hurriedly begins packing up her things. "Here's my portfolio and contact details. We can finish this meeting another day. I need to leave, something urgent just came up."

"Matilda—" I begin, but she's already walking away, her phone pressed to her ear as she murmurs something too low for me to hear.

I watch her disappear through the restaurant doors, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Picking up her portfolio, I began to examine the pieces she brought. They all make me have the same sensation of rawness, intensity, and depth.

I'm captivated by her talent, and deeply impressed by her ability to convey so much through her work. Yet, more than anything, I'm struck by the strangeness of it all. The universe had brought her back and placed her right in front of me. I'd be a fool to let such an opportunity slip away.