Chapter 2 The online date

Olivia tugged incessantly at the hem of the red floral dress, feeling the cool draft of the restaurant's air conditioning against her bare back.

Mia had practically forced her into the backless mini, swearing it was time for Olivia to "unleash the goddess," but Olivia just felt exposed. For years, she had mastered the art of hiding her curves under oversized blazers and loose knits, convinced that her body was a map of insecurities better left unread.

She couldn't even recall when Mia had bought this piece; it felt too loud, too daring-a costume for a version of herself she hadn't met yet. As she stepped into the foyer of the restaurant, she tried to pull the fabric down another inch, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

The situation was bordering on the absurd. Her one-year relationship with Casper had imploded only yesterday, yet here she was, standing in a place that smelled of expensive cologne and aged wine.

She hated the traitorous flicker of excitement in her chest, but it had been so long since someone had actually asked for her time.

With Casper, she had been the architect of her own romance, forever arranging surprises and sitting at lonely tables for two while he "forgot" or "got tied up."

This was supposed to be different.

She approached the mahogany podium, her voice small and trembling. "Good evening... I have a reservation under the name David."

She sounded breathless, her emotions a tangled mess of hope and sheer terror.

The receptionist offered a tight, professional smile while her fingers danced over the keyboard.

After a moment, she looked up, her expression softening into pity. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't see a reservation under that name. That reservation has already been canceled"

Olivia felt the heat climb from her neck to her cheeks in a blistering wave. The excitement collapsed, leaving behind a hollow sense of humiliation. "I... I see," she stammered, forcing a smile that felt brittle enough to shatter. " I'll take a seat at the bar, please."

As she walked toward a window table, her mind began to spiral. Throughout their chats the previous night, David had seemed so thoughtful, so attentive.

But as she looked around the opulent room, reality set in. She couldn't afford a glass of water here, let alone a meal, especially with her finances currently in ruins. Was I being played? she wondered, her throat tightening. Is this some kind of cruel joke?

She reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over David's name, when a waitress appeared at her side, looking slightly frantic.

"Excuse me miss-David's reservation?" the waitress whispered. "There was a terrible mix-up at the front desk. We are so sorry for the confusion. Please, follow me. Your VIP table is ready in the private wing."

Olivia froze. VIP? A wave of relief washed over her, so heavy it made her shoulders ache. Maybe David was more than just "thoughtful." Maybe he was the kind of man who moved mountains to make a first impression.

She followed the waitress silently, the rhythmic click-click of her heels on the polished marble sounding like a countdown to something she wasn't prepared for.

They passed through a set of heavy double doors into a room that felt like a different world. It was silent, save for the low hum of the city outside the

floor-to-ceiling windows.

The air was thicker here, scented with sandalwood and power. Standing by the glass was a man, his back to her, speaking into a phone with a voice that was low, steady, and terrifyingly authoritative.

Olivia's steps faltered. This wasn't the "laid-back" vibe she had gotten from David's texts. This man radiated a quiet dominance that made her feel like she was trespassing. She sank into a plush velvet chair, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

The man finished his call, and turned to her."You are here!"

His voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon, but there was a sharp edge underneath that cut through her nerves. Olivia looked up and felt the air leave her lungs.

He wasn't David.

He was someone else entirely. She scrambled to her feet, her face burning. "I'm so sorry! There's been a mistake-the waitress, she told me this was my table. I am so, so sorry, sir."

Her inner voice screamed at her. Of course there wasn't a VIP table for you, Olivia. She felt like a fraud in a red dress, a girl playing dress-up in a world she didn't belong to. She turned to bolt, her hand already reaching for the door handle, when his voice rang out.

"Wait."

The word was a command, heavy and immovable. Olivia stopped as if she'd hit a wall. Her heart sank into her stomach. I'm in trouble, she thought. Slowly, she turned back to face the storm.

"Come here," he said. It wasn't an invitation. It was a requirement.

Olivia hesitated, her eyes wide. She watched as he noticed her reluctance and decided to close the distance himself. He moved with a predatory grace, five long strides that brought him directly into her personal space.

He was towering-at least 6'4-and the sheer heat radiating from him made her dizzy.

Up close, he was devastating. Deep blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, hair as dark as midnight, and a jawline so sharp it looked sculpted from stone.

Three bottoms of his black dress shirt were left unbuttoned , revealing the hollow of his throat and the hint of a powerful chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing forearms that flexed with every movement.

She was so lost in the sight of him that she didn't realize she was staring until his lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk.

"I'm Damian," he said, his gaze unwavering as he intentionally omitted a surname that likely carried too much weight. "Have dinner with me."

"I... please hold on," Olivia whispered, her brain finally catching up. "I think... I think my date is texting."

She reached into her clutch, her hands trembling as she pulled out her phone. She wanted to be polite, to be "good," but the messages on the screen felt like a slap in the face.

David: I'm sorry, I can't make it. Busy.

Then, the message she had missed from ten minutes ago:

David: I didn't bother with a reservation. Just grab a table anywhere. That place is overpriced anyway, so don't order much.

The humiliation was complete. She had spent two hours on her hair, thirty minutes squeezing into a dress that made her hold her breath, and all for a man who couldn't even be bothered to call a restaurant.

Damian didn't look away. He watched the light die in her eyes, reading the disappointment on her face like a familiar book.

"I take it your date isn't coming," he remarked, his tone softening just a fraction.

He already knew who her date was.

"No," she replied, her voice barely audible. "He isn't."

Damian stepped closer, his shadow falling over her, protective and heavy. "That makes two of us. My guest was a no-show, and I find I have a sudden aversion to eating alone. Sit down, gorgeous. Let's not let a good table go to waste."