The dinner was supposed to be formal.
Strictly business.
At least—that's what Amara told herself.
"You clean up well," Adrian said as she approached the table.
She raised an eyebrow. "I always do."
"True."
But his gaze lingered.
Too long.
Too soft.
It made her nervous.
Which was ridiculous.
She didn't get nervous.
Not in meetings.
Not in negotiations.
Not with him.
Except—
Maybe she did.
"Wine?" he asked.
"Just one."
"Liar."
She almost smiled.
They talked about work at first.
Contracts.
Expansion.
Strategy.
But slowly—
The conversation shifted.
To lighter things.
Safer things.
"Do you ever take a break?" he asked.
"No."
"That's unhealthy."
"So is caring too much."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Is that what this is?"
She froze.
"Business," she said quickly.
"Right."
But neither of them sounded convinced.
Dinner ended.
But neither of them stood.
Because leaving meant ending whatever this was.
And neither of them seemed ready.
"Amara," Adrian said softly.
Her name sounded different when he said it.
Like it meant something.
"Yes?"
He hesitated.
Which surprised her.
Adrian Velasco didn't hesitate.
Ever.
But now—
He did.
"Tonight didn't feel like business," he admitted.
Her heart skipped.
"Then what did it feel like?"
He looked at her.
Really looked.
And this time—
He didn't hide it.
"Like a date."
The word hung in the air.
Heavy.
Fragile.
Real.
Amara's breath caught.
She could deny it.
She should deny it.
But instead—
"It did," she whispered.
Silence.
But it wasn't empty.
It was full of everything they weren't saying.
Adrian stood slowly, walking around the table toward her.
Every step felt louder than it should.
Every second stretched.
Until—
He stopped in front of her.
Close.
Too close.
"Tell me to stop," he said quietly.
She didn't.
She couldn't.
And that was all the permission he needed—
To reach for her hand.
Not forcefully.
Not possessively.
Just gently.
Like she was something worth being careful with.
And that—
That was what broke her defenses the most.