Chapter Two

Aria’s POV.

“Yes he was dressed in a nice suit and dark glasses.” mom said.

On the table sat a tall, elegant bouquet of red roses, a box of chocolates tied with a satin ribbon, and an ivory envelope placed between them. I blinked, confused.

“For me?” I asked.

Mom nodded, “the flowers smell so good, though I didn’t open the letter, I thought you should see it yourself.”

Curiosity cut through my sadness. I reached for the envelope. The paper was thick and felt expensive, it smelt like cedar-wood. Inside, a handwritten letter in clean, bold script read:

“Hello Miss Aria,

It would be an honor if you would allow me the pleasure of enjoying your company this evening. You could see it as a way to return the handkerchief, you also dropped your bracelet in the elevator, I guess I could give it back that way. Dinner at La Rivière, seven thirty. I’ll have a car pick you up.”

I read it twice, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. “The man I shared the elevator with?” I murmured aloud.

Mom leaned closer. “What man?”

“The one from the hotel,” I said, cheeks heating. “He was… someone I met after… everything.”

She smiled knowingly. “Maybe fate decided you deserved a bit of kindness.”

“Or maybe it’s just… weird,” I said, rereading the letter. The tone was formal, almost stiff. It would be an honor, the pleasure of your company… Who even writes like that?

Mom touched my hand, eyes soft. “Go, Aria. It’s just dinner. You’ve been through so much. Let yourself breathe for one night.”

So I did.

At exactly seven the next day, a black Mercedes S-Class pulled up outside our small apartment building. The driver, tall and impeccably polite, opened the door for me without a word.

Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “Fancy… text me your location, just in case.”

“Mom!”

She laughed, waving me off. “I’m kidding, darling. Go, have fun.”

I smiled faintly and got into the car.

The restaurant, La Rivière, was one of those places people post about but never actually visit. Glass walls, chandeliers like frozen snowflakes, music soft and elegant. The maître d’ led me to a table near the large window overlooking the city lights.

He was already there.

The man from the elevator stood, he wore a sharp gray suit, white shirt and no tie yet somehow, he looked more formal than anyone I’d ever met. His dark hair, slightly wavy with the right amount of gray strands was neatly combed back. His presence was commanding, even though he barely spoke.

“Miss Aria,” he greeted, extending a hand. “Thank you for coming.”

I took his hand which felt warm, steady and managed a small smile. “You didn’t exactly give me much of a choice.”

A flicker of a smile appeared on his lips. “Fair enough.”

We sat. He signaled, and the waiter poured water into crystal glasses. For a while, the silence stretched, neither awkward nor entirely comfortable.

“I suppose I should introduce myself properly,” he said at last. “I’m Mr Alexander.”

I nodded, folding my hands on the table. “Just Mr Alexander?”

He looked amused. “For tonight, that will do.”

When the waiter returned with the menu on a tablet, he ordered for both of us without asking what I wanted. It should have annoyed me, but the confidence in his tone made it feel… natural.

“So,” he said once the waiter left, “tell me about yourself, Miss Aria.”

I blinked. “About myself?”

“Yes. What do you do? Your interests?”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “I work at a marketing firm.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Marketing. And hobbies?”

“I… read a lot. Paint sometimes, I love music” I murmured.

He leaned back slightly, eyes on me. “Favorite place in the city?”

“There’s a small café near the park. I like sitting there on weekends.”

“And friends? Family?”

“My mom,” I said softly. “She’s… my world.”

Alexander nodded, silent for a moment. Then, his voice lowered, just enough for me to hear. “And why were you crying yesterday?”

My throat tightened. “I… I’d rather not talk about that.”

He nodded once. “I understand. But sometimes…”

“I said I’d rather not talk about it.” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

His expression didn’t change. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to push.”

Still, something in his tone was too controlled, too analytical. It felt like he was studying me instead of listening.

After a few more polite exchanges, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I said, standing abruptly. “This was a huge mistake. I can’t believe I agreed to a date that feels more like an interview.”

His brows drew together slightly. “Aria”

“Goodnight, Mr. Alexander.”

And I walked out, clenching to my bag.

By the time I got home, I felt exhausted all over again. Mom looked up from the couch. “Back so soon?”

I groaned. “That was a disaster, Mom. The man practically interrogated me. He kept asking questions, like he was profiling me. It didn’t feel like a date at all.”

She chuckled softly. “Maybe that’s just his way. Some men can be… particular.”

“Particular is one word for it,” I muttered, kicking off my heels. “It was a waste of lipstick and perfume.”

That night, as I lay in bed, I found myself thinking of Ethan again. How easy our conversations had once been. How much I had loved him. My heart started aching, my chest felt hot and suffocating, until I finally drifted into restless sleep.

The next morning, I woke with swollen eyes. I almost called in sick, but something in me refused to surrender that easily. I needed a distraction.

At the office, the hours dragged. My mind wasn’t really there. My hands typed emails while my thoughts wandered elsewhere. Then, around noon, there was a soft knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said.

My colleague, Tessa, entered carrying a massive bouquet of white lilies and a glossy black box tied with gold ribbon. “Aria,” she said, slightly breathless. “These just arrived for you. They’re… heavy.”

I blinked. “For me?”

She grinned, teasingly. “Looks like Ethan has totally upped his game.”

My stomach twisted. “It’s not from Ethan. We’re over.”

The smile slipped from her face. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “Thank you, Tessa.”

When she left, I admired the flowers a bit and then opened the envelope attached to the box. It read:

“Miss Aria, forgive me for the way our last dinner went. It was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I realize I may have forgotten how to simply enjoy a conversation. Please allow me to try again, let me make it right. Please be ready by eight this evening; everything will be taken care of.”

My heart gave an odd flutter. I smelled the flowers then I untied the box and lifted the lid. Inside lay a silk evening dress the color of champagne, a pair of elegant nude heels, and a delicate gold jewelry set that shimmered softly in the light.

I sat there, staring for a long minute, overwhelmed. How did he even know my size? My shoe size? My favorite color?

The rest of the day passed quickly. I could barely focus on work. Each time I glanced at the box, something warm stirred in me, a strange mix of curiosity and excitement that I hadn’t felt in weeks.

When I got home, Mom had just returned from her shop, her were arms crossed and there was a teasing smile on her face. “So,” she said, eyeing the box, “your interview-date man has struck again?”

“Apparently,” I said, trying not to smile.

She laughed. “Didn’t you say last night that it was a complete waste of time?”

“I might have been wrong,” I admitted, a blush creeping up my neck.

Her gaze softened. “You seem… happier about this one.”

“Maybe a little,” I said honestly. “But, Mom, the clothes fit perfectly. The shoes too. How could he possibly know?”

She shrugged. “Well, that’s a little strange but I want us to be optimistic about this one and you know, some men just pay attention. Or he has very good spies.”

At 8 p.m. sharp, a black Range Rover with tinted windows pulled up outside. Mom peeked through the curtains. “Good Lord… what does he do again?”

“Mom!” I laughed, “well I don’t know yet, I plan to ask him today plus, we haven’t really had a proper conversation since the last date.” I said shaking my head.

But deep down, my heart was pounding. I admired myself, the dress, heels, jewelry. I looked good. I felt good. For a moment, I had forgotten my broken heart.

The drive was smooth, quiet, city lights reflecting off the sleek interior. When we stopped, I looked up and gasped. The restaurant was breathtaking, a modern rooftop garden glittering with fairy lights, overlooking the skyline.

He was there, waiting.

Not in a suit this time but in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up and dark trousers, he appeared more relaxed and less formal. His easy smile softened his features. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man who wanted to be there with me.

Alexander’s POV.

The second Aria stepped out of the car, something shifted in me.

It was almost like I’d known her for long.

She walked toward me in that champagne dress, and for a moment, the world felt strangely familiar.

Not how she looked facially. Not her voice.

It was the way she held herself.

Soft posture.

Gentle steps that screamed confidence.

A quietness that pulled the eye without trying.

It reminded me of my wife so strongly that I had to compose my face, to make me appear neutral.

She didn’t need to know that my pulse had stuttered like a teenager’s.

When she reached the table, she gave a small, shy smile.

“Hi.”

“Good evening, Aria.” My voice sounded steady, thank God. “You look… elegant.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

I pulled out her chair. Muscle memory.

I hadn’t done that for anyone since my wife.

Once the waiter left us with water, she looked at me with a curious tilt of her head.

“So… are you always this quiet?”

“No.”

She blinked. “So it’s just with me?”

I considered the truthful answer, too truthful then said, “You remind me of someone.”

Her expression softened. “Someone good or someone bad?”

“Someone important,” I replied. That was as far as I would allow myself to go.

She nodded, accepting the boundary.

The waiter returned. She reached for the menu, and I gently closed it.

“I already ordered for both of us.”

Her lips parted. “You… pre-ordered dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Efficiency.”

That wasn’t entirely honest. The truth was that my wife hated menus, and Aria had worn the same overwhelmed and indecisive look when she picked it up.

“I owe you an apology,” I said at that point, “That first dinner… I was too formal, too rigid. It’s been years since I went on a date. I suppose I forgot how.”

“Years?” She asked softly.

“Yes, though a friend of mine once set up a double date for me but, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on an actual date.”

“Oh I didn’t know, I guess that explains it.” She said, her expression was sincere.

I gave a small, grateful smile. “You couldn’t have.”

She let out a small chuckle. “You know, you’re still a little intense.”

“I’ve been told.”

“By many people?”

“By everyone.”

She laughed, a warm, surprised sound and something inside me flinched.

It was not from pain, but from memory.

My wife had laughed like that.

I looked away, jaw tightening for a moment.

“Mr Alexander?” she said softly.

“Yes.”

“Why did you ask me out again? After… everything that happened the first time?”

“You walked out,” I said simply.

She blinked. “And?”

“Most people don’t walk out on me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So this is an ego thing?”

“No.” I paused. “It surprised me. And I don’t get surprised often.”

She looked down at her hands, smiling the kind of smile that crept up slowly.

“Well… you surprised me too. Tonight, I mean. You’re different. And how did you even know my work and home address, my dress and shoe size, I mean… it was shocking and almost strange.”

“I’m trying,” I admitted. “I made a few calls, and with a little description from me and your i*******m pictures, the professionals were able to ascertain your sizes, I’m sorry if that was too much.”

She looked up again, and something in my chest twisted sharply, too sharply.

The expression in her eyes…

I had seen it before.

Years ago.

In a different woman.

In a different life.

I forced myself to steady.

“Aria,” I said quietly. “If I ever overstep, please tell me.”

She nodded. “I will.”

“And I’ll listen.”

“That’s all I need,” she murmured.

The waiter returned with the first course. Aria’s eyes widened with delight.

Then she looked at me.

“Can I ask something?” she said, suddenly shy.

“You can,” I said.

“What do you do? For work, I mean. You never said.”

Of course she asked.

I’d been waiting for it.

I didn’t want my status to influence how she behaves towards me so I said, “I run a few companies,”.

“Like… what kind of companies?”

I took a sip of wine before replying.

“Finance. Logistics. Real estate. Tech investments. A bit of everything.”

She blinked. “That sounds like… a lot.”

“It keeps me busy.”

“Busy enough to forget how to date?” she teased.

A corner of my lip lifted. “Possibly.”

She leaned her elbow on the table. “So what do you actually do? Are you like… a CEO? A manager? A partner?”

“I’m the owner and CEO,” I said simply.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Wow. That’s… impressive.”

“It’s work,” I said. “Just work.”

She smiled again.

Soft. Warm.

Familiar.

And for one reckless moment, I felt the ghost of the man I used to be, the man who once loved deeply and loudly.

I gripped my fork a little too tightly.

When dessert plates were cleared, she dabbed lightly at her lips with a napkin.

“That was… actually really nice,” she admitted.

“I’m glad,” I said, keeping my voice even, controlled. “I wanted tonight to be better.”

“It was.” She said.

We left the restaurant together. The air was cool, breezy, catching the scent of her perfume, light, floral, familiar in a way that made my chest tighten.

My driver, Marcus, pulled the Range Rover around.

I opened the back door for her.

She slid in with a soft “Thanks,” and I followed, taking the seat beside her.

“I had fun tonight.” She said, after a few minutes.

I nodded. “So did I.”

“I didn’t think I would. After the… first attempt.”

“That one was entirely my fault.”

She chuckled softly. “I wasn’t great either.”

“No,” I said honestly. “You were honest. I just wasn’t listening.”

Her eyes softened. “Well… you listened tonight.”

“Good,” I murmured. “I plan to keep doing so.”

The driver slowed in front of her apartment building.

Aria turned to me, her fingers brushing her dress nervously. “Thank you again. For everything. The flowers… the dress… dinner…”

“You’re welcome, Aria.”

She hesitated, then said gently, “Goodnight, Mr Alexander.”

“Goodnight,” I said, my voice lower than intended.

When I stepped into my home, Joe, my butler was waiting in the foyer, as he always did when I came home late.

“Good evening, sir,” he said, polite but not stiff. “I take it that dinner went well?”

He’d known me for over a decade. He was like a member of the family now.

He could read me better than most.

I loosened my cuffs. “I suppose it did.”

He gave me a look. “Suppose?”

I sighed. “It went well, Joe.”

He nodded once. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes,” I said. “In the study.”

A few minutes later, he entered with a tray, set the cup down, then didn’t leave.

He just looked at me with that patient, raised eyebrow expression he’d perfected over the years.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re quiet,” he said. “More than usual.”

I leaned back in the leather chair. “There’s a woman.”

Joe’s face didn’t change, but his eyes brightened. “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” I warned.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyebrows said everything.”

Now he smiled, brief, small. “Tell me about her.”

I rubbed a hand across my jaw.

“Where do I even begin? Her name is Aria, She’s… interesting,” I said.

Joe chuckled. “You haven’t used that word in a very long time.”

I ignored that. “She’s gentle. Thoughtful. She notices details. And she has this way of…”

I exhaled, frustrated at myself.

“…this way of moving. Of speaking. Of Smiling. She’s bold and confident, she even walked out on me the last time we met, she’s unapologetically herself, she doesn’t...” I stopped midway, noticing the expression on Joe’s face.

“What” I asked.

“Oh nothing sir, just that you talk about her the same way you used to talk about Serena.” He said absentmindedly.

I froze, Joe looked horrified, realizing what he had done, “

“I… sir, forgive me, I didn’t mean”

“Joe, leave,” I said sternly, “and take the tea with you.”

He left. My heart started pounding and I suddenly felt cold, I didn’t know if it was because he mentioned the name I forbade everyone from mentioning or because I knew he was right.