Chapter 4 Not more than once

Rae's POV

The message came at noon the next day, simple and direct, like everything about him.

Unknown Number: Change of plans. No room tonight. Meet me at The Crystal Veil Restaurant, top floor of the Elysium Hotel in Aurelia. 8 p.m.

Wear whatever makes you feel beautiful. I want to see you smile across a table first.

I stared at the screen for a full minute, heart doing that ridiculous flutter again. No club. No dim lights and bass. Just... dinner. In public. With him.

I spent the afternoon in a happy panic, trying on three different dresses before settling on a soft emerald-green one that skimmed my knees and made my eyes look brighter. Nothing too revealing-just something that felt like me, only a little braver.

I left my hair loose and added the tiny star pendant Zara had insisted on. When I stepped out of the cab in front of the Elysium Hotel at 7:55, the city of Aurelia sparkled below me like a sea of stars.

The hotel itself rose in graceful glass curves, and the restaurant was perched at the very top, known for its floating lanterns and views that made the whole world feel possible.

The hostess smiled like she'd been expecting me. "Riley Summers? Your table is ready."

She led me through a softly lit space where crystal lanterns drifted overhead on invisible wires, casting warm golden pools on white tablecloths. Tiny white flowers floated in glass bowls. The hum of quiet conversation blended with soft piano music. And there he was.

Seated at a corner table right beside the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing a crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled once, looking like he belonged in every romantic movie I'd ever secretly loved.

When he saw me, he stood slowly-hands at his sides, never reaching out-but his smile was so genuine it stole the breath right out of my lungs.

"Riley," he said, voice low and warm, the same velvet that had kept me awake half the night. "You look... radiant."

I slid into my chair across from him, the wide table keeping us safely apart, just like the invisible rule we were still following. "Thank you. This place is magical."

"It is," he agreed, settling back down. His blue eyes caught the lantern light and held mine. "I thought we could use a different kind of room tonight. One with actual food and a view that doesn't hide anything."

A waiter appeared with menus and sparkling water. We ordered-seared scallops for him, herb-crusted salmon for me-and then the space between us filled with something even better than silence.

Conversation.

Real conversation.

He leaned forward just enough that the lantern glow painted gold across his jaw, but his hands stayed on his own side of the table. "Tell me something true about you," he said quietly. "Not the version you think I want to hear. The real one."

I laughed nervously, twisting the napkin in my lap. "That's a dangerous question."

"I like dangerous when it's honest." His gaze never wavered. "I already know you're brave enough to walk into a place like Club Obsidian. Now I want to know what makes you laugh when no one's watching. What you dream about when you're alone."

So I told him.

I told him about the terrible poetry I wrote in high school and hid in a shoebox. About how I secretly wanted to illustrate children's books someday, full of whimsical forests and brave little girls who saved themselves.

I told him about the Caleb disaster-not the embarrassing details, but how it had left me feeling small and unsure, like maybe I wasn't worth the patience.

He listened as every word mattered. His jaw softened. His eyes crinkled at the corners when I described my dream of a tiny studio with paint splatters on the floor.

He never interrupted, never looked away, never made me feel silly.

When it was his turn, he surprised me.

"I'm not here because I need a new girl every week," he said softly, spinning his water glass slowly. "I come to the club when life feels... loud. My days are spent fixing broken things for other people-restoring old buildings, actually. Old theaters, forgotten libraries. I like giving them a second chance. But sometimes I forget how to give that to myself."

I felt my chest tighten in the best way. "That's beautiful. And a little sad."

He smiled, small and real. "It is. But last night, talking to you... I remembered what it feels like to want something slowly. Carefully. Like it matters." His voice dropped.

"You matter, Riley. Even if we only ever have these nights. You matter."

The words settled over me like the softest blanket. My eyes stung, but I smiled through it. "No one's ever said that to me before."

"Then I'm glad I'm the first."

We talked for hours.

About favorite books, he loved old poetry, and I loved fantasy with happy endings. About the ridiculous fear of heights we both secretly shared.

About the time, he rebuilt an entire carousel in an abandoned park just because a little girl had written a letter to the city asking for it back.

I laughed until my sides hurt when he described the painted horses coming to life under his hands. He grinned-wide and boyish-when I told him about the time I accidentally dyed my hair purple for a week and had to hide from my mom.

The lanterns above us swayed gently. The city lights twinkled far below. And through every story, every shared laugh, the space between us crackled with something deeper than want. It was a connection.

It was safety. It was the sweet, heart-melting realization that he saw me-not just the nervous girl in the short skirt, but the whole messy, hopeful version.

Dessert came-shared chocolate torte with two forks, though neither of us reached across the table.

We simply took turns describing how perfect each bite tasted, eyes locked, smiles growing.

When the bill was paid, he insisted, with a quiet "Let me", we stood at the same time. The restaurant had emptied around us without me noticing. Only a few lanterns still glowed.

He walked beside me toward the elevator-close enough that I could feel his warmth, far enough that our arms never brushed.

In the elevator, descending through glass walls with the city sparkling around us, he finally spoke again.

"Tonight was... more than I expected," he said softly. "I came here thinking I'd keep the distance. But talking to you made me want to break every rule I set for myself."

My heart slammed against my ribs. "I felt the same."

The doors opened to the quiet lobby. We stepped out into the cool night air just outside the hotel entrance, under a canopy of string lights that looked like captured stars. No one else was around.

He turned to face me, hands still at his sides, but his eyes were everything.

"Riley," he whispered, voice rough with everything he hadn't let himself say all night. "Can I kiss you goodnight? Just once. Just soft. No more than that."

I nodded, barely able to breathe. "Yes."

He stepped in slowly-giving me every chance to change my mind-until only inches remained. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine.

It wasn't the hungry kiss from the club.

It was gentle. Sweet. Heart-stoppingly tender.

His mouth moved against mine like a promise, warm and careful, tasting faintly of chocolate and starlight. One perfect second. Two. Three. Long enough for me to feel the quiet thunder of his heartbeat, long enough for my eyes to flutter closed and the whole world to shrink to this single, beautiful point of contact.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine for the briefest moment-no hands, just breath and closeness-and he smiled like a man who had just found something precious.

"I want more nights like this," he murmured. "More talks. More lanterns. More of you telling me your dreams while I fall a little harder every time."

I whispered back, voice shaky with happiness, "Then let's have them."

He stepped away, eyes shining. "Tomorrow.At the same time. I'll choose the place. Somewhere even better."

I watched him walk into the night, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight, until he disappeared around the corner.

My lips still tingled. My heart felt too big for my chest.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't nervous about what came next.

I was excited.

Because whatever tomorrow brought-whether it was another restaurant, another conversation, or finally the moment we stopped holding back-I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I was already falling.

And I couldn't wait to see where we landed.