Chapter 7

Aaliyah’s POV

“Well, hello, firecracker,” Orrin said, his voice a smooth drawl that sent a shiver down my spine as I closed the distance between us.

His gray eyes glinting under the soft glow of Le Bernardin’s chandeliers, that devilish grin of his making my stomach do a flip.

His tailored suit hugged his lean frame, and the way he moved—confident, almost predatory—made the restaurant’s elegance fade into the background.

I should’ve been mad. The Larson Group wasn’t here, and he’d clearly set this up, but the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room, scrambled my thoughts.

My cheeks burned, and I hated it. I wasn’t some starry-eyed girl; I was Aaliyah Monroe, and I’d sworn off men after Henry’s betrayal.

Yet here I was, blushing like a teenager because of this infuriatingly charming, mischievous billionaire.

“Orrin,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady, “what is this? Where’s Richard Larson?”

His grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, his tone teasing.

“Disappointed it’s just me? I thought we had a moment last night, mixing drinks and plotting revenge.”

I crossed my arms, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.

“A moment? I was drunk, and you were… what, playing knight in shining armor? Thanks for the bed, but this—” I gestured around the restaurant, “—is a bit much.”

He chuckled, low and warm, like he was enjoying this way too much.

“A bit much is my style, Aaliyah. You look stunning, by the way. That red dress? Lethal.”

My face flamed, and I glared to cover it.

“Stop it. And don’t call me firecracker. I’m here for a business meeting, not… whatever this is.”

“Oh, it’s business,” he said, his eyes dancing. “But who says we can’t mix in a little pleasure? Come on, sit. I ordered us wine. Red, like that Monroe Special you whipped up.”

I hesitated, my instincts screaming to bolt, but curiosity—and maybe something else—kept me rooted.

I slid into the chair he pulled out, the plush velvet brushing my thighs. The table was set for two, a single rose in a crystal vase between us.

Romantic. Too romantic.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not funny, you know. Tricking me into a date isn’t cute.”

“Who said it’s a date?” he replied, sitting across from me, his grin never faltering.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you squirm. You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

I rolled my eyes, but a laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back, leaning forward. “Aaliyah, I still have that memory of you dancing on that stage at 2 a.m, repeating in my head.”

My smile faded, the memory of last night crashing back— I took a sip of the wine a waiter had poured, needing the courage.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I said, setting the glass down.

“I was a mess. I didn’t mean to drag you into my drama nor tell you so many unnecessary things. And that ‘yes’? I wasn’t serious. I’m sure you weren’ t either.”

Orrin’s grin softened, but his eyes stayed intense, locking onto mine.

“Oh, I was serious. Dead serious.” He leaned back, swirling his wine. “I meant every word, Aaliyah.”

My breath caught, his words stirring something dangerous in me—hope, maybe, or the thrill of revenge.

But I pushed it down, remembering Henry’s promises, how I’d trusted him, built my life around him, only to watch it crumble.

“You don’t know me, Orrin,” I said, my voice sharp. “You met me for one night. Why would you offer something like that?”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Because I see you. You’re hurting, sure, but you’re not broken. And I’m a sucker for a woman who can mix a drink like a pro and still say yes to a wild idea.”

I snorted, despite myself. “You’re crazy. And I’m not looking for a savior. I’ve been down that road, and it ended with divorce papers.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t back off.

“I’m not him. And I’m not asking you to love me—yet.” He winked, and my stupid heart skipped.

“Just let me help you. Starting with this.” He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. My stomach twisted as a familiar voice answered.

“Mr. Hayes,” Richard Larson said, sounding nervous. “Everything alright?”

“Richard,” Orrin said, his tone casual but commanding, “is the partnership with Aaliyah Monroe’s firm finalized?”

I froze.

Larson stammered, “Uh, yes, sir. We sent the contracts to her office this evening. Full partnership, as you requested.”

“Good,” Orrin said, his eyes never leaving mine.

“And you apologized for this morning’s mess?”

“Yes, sir. We… we were out of line.”

“Damn right you were,” Orrin said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Make sure she knows you’re lucky to work with her. Got it?”

“Absolutely,” Larson said, practically groveling. “We’re thrilled to have her.”

Orrin hung up, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “See? One call, and your firm’s back in the game. That’s what I can do for you, Aaliyah. That’s just the start.”

I stared at him, my mind reeling. The Larson Group—my lifeline—had signed with me because of him?

Part of me was grateful, but another part, the part that still ached from Henry’s betrayal, bristled. I’d leaned on Henry, trusted his promises to lift my career, and he’d left me for Aurora.

Now Orrin was dangling the same kind of help, and it felt like a trap. A gilded one, but still a trap.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, my voice tight. “I don’t need you fixing my life.”

His grin faded, replaced by a flicker of something I couldn't regconise.

“I’m not trying to fix you, Aaliyah. I’m offering a partnership. You’re not some damsel; you’re a damn queen. I just want to hand you the sword.”

I shook my head, my heart pounding. “You don’t get it. I trusted someone like you before. Rich, charming, full of promises. He said he’d make my dreams come true, and then he tossed me aside for my sister. I’m not doing that again.”

Orrin’s eyes softened, but he leaned closer, his voice low.

“I’m not Henry, firecracker. I don’t play games with hearts. You want to walk away? Fine. But you said yes last night, and I’m betting there’s a part of you that meant it. The part of you that still burns from their betrayal.”

My breath hitched. He wasn’t wrong—their betrayal burned in me, hot and fierce.

But trusting Orrin meant risking everything again. I looked at him, his gray eyes steady, his face open, and I hated how much I wanted to believe him.

“You’re too much,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Calling me firecracker, setting up fake meetings. What’s next, a private jet to Paris?”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve got a jet, and you’d look good sipping champagne at 30,000 feet.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re gorgeous when you smile,” he shot back, his grin wicked.

“Admit it, you’re having fun.”

“Hardly,” I lied, taking another sip of wine to hide my blush. “This is a business dinner, remember?”

“Sure,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dropping.

“But I’m betting I can make you forget business for a minute. Tell me, Aaliyah, what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do? Skydiving? Dancing in the rain? Name it, and I’ll make it happen.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the room faded, and it was just us, the air crackling with something I wasn’t ready to name.

I cleared my throat, breaking the spell. “Look, Orrin, I appreciate what you did with Larson. Really. But I need to do this on my own. I can’t… I won’t rely on anyone again.”

He studied me, his expression unreadable for once. Then he nodded, slow and deliberate.

“Fair enough. But my offer stands. You want to burn their world down? I’m your match. No strings, no expectations. Just you and me, making them pay.”

I didn’t answer, my mind a tug-of-war between caution and the fire he was stoking.

The waiter brought our food—lobster for me, steak for him—but I barely tasted it, too caught up in his words, his presence.

He kept the conversation light, teasing me about how I eat, asking about my favorite cocktails, but every look, every smile, felt like a challenge.

Could I trust him? Did I want to?

As we finished, he leaned back, his grin returning.

“So, firecracker, what’s it gonna be? You in, or are you gonna keep fighting me on this?”

I met his gaze, my heart pounding. “I’ll think about it,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “But don’t hold your breath.”

He laughed, raising his glass. “To thinking about it, then. And to you, Aaliyah Monroe, the woman who’s gonna change everything.”

I clinked my glass against his, my mind racing. He was dangerous—not because he’d hurt me, but because he made me want to say yes. And that scared me more than anything.