Chapter 2 Yet to know

Jessica swirling her wine glass dramatically, trying to look like the kind of woman who didn't care about anything. Sophia had told her to be obnoxious, to say something outrageous, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"So," she said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, "do you believe in past lives?"

The man across from her didn't flinch. "No."

"Well, I do." She tapped her finger against the table. "In my past life, I was probably a queen. Or maybe a tiger. Definitely not someone who wastes time on blind dates."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but not into a smile. He set his glass down with quiet precision. "Fascinating."

She panicked. He wasn't reacting the way she wanted. Instead of disgust, he looked... amused? Or worse, interested.

So she doubled down.

"I should warn you," she said brightly, "I snore. Loudly. And I kick in my sleep. Once I even knocked my cousin off the bed."

The man's brows arched. Still no sign of irritation.

"Also," she added quickly, "I collect horror movie dolls. Chucky, Annabelle, all the classics. They sit around my bed and watch me while I sleep."

A beat of silence passed. Then, to her shock, he chuckled. A low, warm sound that did dangerous things to her chest.

"You're... not like what I expected," he said.

Jessica blinked. This was not the plan. He was supposed to bolt, not laugh.

She gulped the rest of her wine in frustration.

Dinner arrived-an artful arrangement of steak and truffle sauce. Jessica eyed it nervously. This was not fried chicken. This was not food you ate with your fingers.

She picked up the silverware awkwardly, then decided to commit to her sabotage. She cut into the steak with exaggerated force, nearly sending it flying off the plate.

"Mmm," she said loudly, chewing with her mouth open. "So good. Almost as good as my favorite chicken feet place. Have you tried it? Sticky, spicy, chewy. You'd love it."

For the first time, the man's calm demeanor cracked. His brow furrowed.

"Chicken feet," he repeated slowly.

"Yes! With extra chili powder. Makes your lips swell." She puckered her lips in demonstration, nearly choking on a laugh.

The waiter passed by, startled by her volume. Jessica waved cheerfully. "Another bottle of wine, please! The expensive one. This guy's paying, right?"

The man's expression darkened-finally! Maybe she was succeeding.

"Do you always drink this much?" he asked.

"Only when I'm nervous," she blurted, then froze. That was too honest. She quickly recovered. "I mean-only when I'm with boring men. Like you."

Silence fell. Her heart thumped painfully. She might have gone too far.

But then, instead of storming out, he leaned back in his chair, studying her with unreadable eyes.

"You're... interesting," he murmured.

"Interesting?" she echoed weakly.

"Different from every woman I've met."

Her stomach flipped. This was all wrong. He was supposed to hate her. Not-whatever this was.

Jessica stuffed another too-large bite of steak into her mouth to avoid answering.

After dinner, they walked through the hotel lobby, marble floors gleaming under golden light. Jessica's heels wobbled dangerously with every step, and she clutched her clutch like a lifeline.

"Miss Sophia," the man said suddenly, his tone sharper now. "Why did you agree to this blind date?"

Her heart seized. For a split second, she forgot she was pretending. She thought of her tiny apartment above the restaurant, of overdue bills, of her life built on hard work and small dreams.

Then she forced a laugh. "Why else? My father insisted, of course. He wants me married off before I turn into an old maid."

The man's gaze flickered, as though testing her words. She avoided his eyes.

At the entrance, his driver pulled up in a sleek black car. The man gestured politely. "Allow me to take you home."

Jessica's panic flared. If he drove her home, he'd see she wasn't Sophia Wilson. He'd see the fried chicken restaurant, her parents, the truth.

"Oh no!" she said quickly. "I-I actually have another date. With someone else. A hotter guy. Much richer, too."

For the first time all evening, the man's mask cracked fully. His eyes narrowed, sharp with something like annoyance.

"Another date," he repeated flatly.

"Yes," Jessica said, nodding furiously. "So you see, this was fun, but... bye!"

She spun on her heel, nearly tripping, and fled into the night, heart pounding like a drum.

Behind her, Ethan Maverick-the man she didn't realize was her company's new president-watched her go, his lips curving into the faintest, most dangerous of smiles.