The hum of the jet engine was the only sound in the spacious cabin as we touched down in Velmora just past seven in the morning. I stared out the window, watching the familiar skyline stretch in the soft morning light. Everything felt familiar, but different. Like returning to a house after rearranging all the furniture.
Blake sat across from me, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't asleep—just quiet. That silence between us was no longer uncomfortable. If anything, it was warm. Charged. The dinner last night had changed something, subtly but permanently.
He'd made me laugh. He'd listened. And for a moment—several, actually—I had forgotten we were arranged, bound by legacy and strategy. Last night, we were just Blake and Celine.
And I hadn't hated it.
I hadn't hated him.
That realization clung to me as I stepped into our penthouse after we were driven home. The staff had dusted and stocked the place while we were away. Everything was polished, perfect. Sarah had sent me a full schedule for the day, but I ignored it for a moment and walked toward the living room, barefoot on the cool marble.
The bouquet of tulips he had sent me before our date was still in the vase, slightly wilted now, but somehow sweeter for it. I reached out and touched one of the petals, remembering how it had made me feel to receive them—noticed, chosen.
I never thought I'd crave that kind of attention. I'd always believed romance was a distraction from ambition, from self-preservation. My mother used to tell me I'd find someone who wouldn't demand that I choose. I had smiled back then, amused by her fairytale hopes.
But maybe she wasn't wrong.
I changed into soft loungewear and went to the kitchen. Coffee brewed quickly. The quiet hiss and drip of it filled the still air as I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city was coming alive. Horns. Voices. Birds. Velmora never truly slept, but mornings always felt like the softest part of it.
I poured myself a cup and leaned on the counter, thinking about Blake.
We hadn't spoken much during the flight. Maybe that was deliberate. Maybe we both needed the space to think, to feel.
I had never been pursued before. Not like this.
All through school and training, I'd been unreachable. Polite but distant. Intimidating, some would say. My father's expectations and my own ambition didn't leave room for flirtations or dates. Most men either tried to outmatch me or ran the other way.
Blake had done neither.
He hadn't tried to control me. He hadn't tried to impress me with grand gestures or declarations. He had simply asked to be seen. And in doing so, he had made me want to look.
I was still standing there with my coffee when Evelyn let herself in. She breezed in like sunlight, a basket of baked goods in one hand and fresh tulips in the other.
"You're back!" she exclaimed, placing the flowers beside the old bouquet. "I figured you two would be exhausted, but I wanted to welcome you home."
I smiled despite myself. "You really like tulips, don't you?"
"They're hopeful. They don't bloom all year, but when they do, it's beautiful."
Her gaze flicked to me knowingly. I didn't rise to the bait.
"I'll let you rest," she added, handing me a small card. "But this came for you while you were away."
I opened it after she left. It was an invitation—a formal gala for a nonprofit Blake's company supported. My name was printed beside his.
And then, scribbled in handwriting I now recognized:
Dinner afterward? Just us again. —B
I closed the card and exhaled slowly.
There was no denying it anymore. We were slipping into something real.
Later that morning, I got dressed for work. A structured blazer over a silk camisole, sharp trousers. My armor. But as I pinned my hair up, I caught my reflection in the mirror and hesitated. My eyes weren't guarded. My posture wasn't stiff.
I didn't look like a woman preparing for battle.
I looked... hopeful.
Sarah greeted me with her usual efficiency when I arrived at the office. "The board rescheduled the 11 a.m. call. And your father's assistant sent over a proposal draft to review before Thursday."
"Thanks," I said, sliding into my chair.
She hesitated. "You look... rested."
I smirked. "That's because I am."
She didn't press further, but she didn't need to. I could feel her curiosity humming just beneath the surface.
As I sorted through reports and responded to emails, my mind kept drifting back to the night before. His smile. His stories. The way he watched me like I was a mystery he didn't need to solve, just appreciate.
And then there was his note. The quiet request wrapped in affection.
Dinner afterward? Just us again.
I was going to say yes.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
Because something was blooming in the quiet space between us.
And for the first time, I didn't feel the need to run from it.