The city lights glimmered like a million tiny promises as I navigated through the bustling streets.
House of the Hearts. A high-end restaurant tucked away from the chaos—elegant, exclusive, and the perfect setting for this long-awaited meeting.
When I arrived, the valet greeted me with a polite nod. I handed over my keys, the rhythmic click of my stilettos echoing against the pavement as I stepped toward the softly lit entrance. The hostess recognized me immediately—of course, she did—and with a practiced smile, she led me to my reserved private room.
The interior was stunning—chandeliers casting a warm glow, muted conversations blending with the soft melody of a grand piano—but none of it held my attention.
I sat down and checked my phone. No messages. Of course. My "friend" was punctual to a fault.
The minutes ticked by, and just as the clock struck four, the door opened.
She walked in with effortless confidence, dressed in boyfriend jeans, white sneakers, and a plain white T-shirt. A baseball cap hid half of her chiseled features, but nothing could dull the sharp intensity in her eyes. Tasia. She scanned the room quickly, her gaze landing on me within seconds.
There she was—the person who once dragged me out of my darkest moments, shoving me back into the light with nothing but cold words and brutal honesty. And, as expected, she still looked as indifferent as ever.
My lips curled into a small smile. "Tasia, my friend, you're late by thirty seconds."
She raised an eyebrow as she sat across from me, setting her phone face-down on the table and pulling off her cap. "Blame the traffic," she replied, her tone dry, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
I leaned back, studying her. Time hadn't changed her much. If I were a man, I'd probably date her. Classic beauty, sharp features, an air of composure that never cracked.
"So," she started, crossing her legs elegantly, "you're really back."
"Back and busier than ever," I sighed, swirling the wine the server had just poured. "It's like the world paused when I left and then decided to bombard me the moment I returned."
A knock on the door interrupted our moment. The waiter entered, a young man in his early twenties with a polite smile. My breath hitched slightly when I took in his face—handsome.
"Good evening, ladies. Are you ready to order?" he asked, his gaze flickering briefly to Tasia before settling on me.
I glanced at Tasia, but she was already looking at me.
Flashing a smile, I said, "I'll have the seared salmon with asparagus and a side of truffle mashed potatoes. And a glass of Chardonnay to pair with it."
The waiter nodded, jotting it down before turning to Tasia, who merely raised an eyebrow.
"Grilled ribeye, medium rare. No sides," she said curtly.
He hesitated. "Uh, would you like anything to drink with that, ma'am?"
Tasia glanced at me, her expression unreadable, then turned back to him. "Water. No ice."
"Of course." He gave me one last look before leaving. I returned it with a wink, watching in amusement as his face turned slightly red before he hurried out and closed the door behind him.
A quiet "Ahem" pulled my attention back.
I blinked and turned to find Tasia watching me, her face unreadable.
I set my glass down, resting my chin on my laced fingers. "When are you leaving?" I asked, breaking the silence.
She didn't meet my eyes, instead smoothing the napkin in her lap with slow, deliberate movements. "I don't know."
I raised an eyebrow. "You don't know... or you don't want to?" My lips curved into a slight smile, knowing full well she wouldn't take the bait.
Her hands paused, the napkin now perfectly folded in her grip. She tilted her head just enough to glance at me. "Does it matter?"
I chuckled under my breath. "I thought you were just here for a patient and the money, then you'd go back." I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "According to my resources, there's someone making you reluctant to return."
Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. Gotcha.
"Do the resources start with the letter L?" she asked, voice devoid of emotion.
I couldn't quite decipher her expression. "Does it matter?" I said, mimicking her tone.
She shook her head. I smiled, leaning back just as a knock signaled the arrival of our food.
The servers placed the plates down carefully. "Thank you," I murmured before they left.
I leaned toward Tasia conspiratorially. "Hey."
She continued eating, ignoring me entirely.
"Ouch." I clutched my chest dramatically. "Is food more important to you than me?"
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn't respond.
I pouted, watching her eat with infuriating grace. Every move measured, elegant, as if she were at a royal banquet instead of a casual dinner. I sighed dramatically, but it didn't faze her.
"Stop looking at me," she muttered, setting down her utensils to take a sip of water. She dabbed her lips with a napkin before finally meeting my gaze, her sharp eyes cutting through me like a blade.
I forced my fingers to still where they had been fidgeting with my fork.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice steady and direct.
I blinked, momentarily thrown off. "What do you mean?" I asked, feigning innocence as I picked up my fork and toyed with my food.
Tasia sighed quietly, picking up her utensils again. "You know what I'm talking about." Her voice was measured, almost gentle, as she began eating once more, as if the matter wasn't up for debate.
Her words struck a nerve, but I masked it with a playful smile. "You know, this reminds me of that one dinner we had years ago—our first mission. Remember? That tiny Italian place downtown? Hera ordered some ridiculous dish no one could pronounce."
Tasia raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
I nodded. "Yes, and do you remember how Azrael tried to—"
"You're changing the subject." Her voice cut clean through my words. "You're wavering... hesitant. And that's not the Beatrice I know."
I set my fork down delicately and leaned forward, holding her gaze. "Can you help me tell that person that I want to stay here for a while? Just a year."
Her expression didn't shift. "No."
I blinked. "Ten months?"
"No."
"Eight?"
"Still no."
"Seven?"
Silence. Then—
"Six?"
She tilted her head, watching me carefully. "Hmm."
A triumphant grin spread across my face. "Three?"
Her brow arched. "Okay."
"Wait, no! Six. Six it is!" I laughed, shaking my head.
Tasia smirked, but her gaze held something deeper. I frowned. "What?"
Her voice was quiet but deliberate. "You came back because of him, didn't you?"
My smile faltered. "No."
Her gaze sharpened, and she leaned back, crossing her arms. "You're forgetting, Zephyrine," she said, her voice quiet but pointed. "I'm good at reading people—even their micro-expressions. And I can tell when someone lying. Even you who was good at deception."
"You said before he wasn't your type. Why now?" She paused, her eyes sharp. "I heard he's getting engaged to one of the Silva's daughters."
My heart lurched, and she caught the flicker in my eyes. She leaned back, her gaze settling on me with a mix of scrutiny and realization. "You came back, despite the danger to your life, because you heard he was getting engaged, right?" Her tone wasn't a question—it was a statement.
I sighed, feeling the weight of it all, knowing there was no reason to hide it anymore. "Yes." The word slipped from my lips, heavier than I anticipated.
She held my gaze for a long moment, her silence almost suffocating. "Why now? You let him go before."
The words lingered, pulling at a thread I thought I'd buried deep. My chest tightened as my mind drifted, and then, as if called by the silence, a familiar face surfaced in my thoughts.
To be continued...