Chapter 5: He Remembers

The restaurant was Sebastian’s choice, of course. A discreet, obscenely expensive, and dimly lit place called 'The Foxy Room,' where each table was hidden away in a private alcove shrouded by thick velvet curtains. It wasn't a venue for a business meeting. It was a venue for affairs and secrets. His power play was clear and arrogant. He would create a stage of intimacy, and she would have to perform on it.

Liliana arrived at eight o'clock sharp, dressed in a simple but powerful black dress that radiated a cool professionalism. She found him already waiting, not rising, just watching her as she approached.

“Ms. Dawnson,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. “Punctual. I’ve always admired your efficiency.”

“I’m paid to be efficient, Mr. Blackwood,” Liliana replied, sliding into the booth, keeping as much distance as the cramped space would allow.

A waiter appeared noiselessly. “Your usual wine, Mr. Blackwood?”

Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off Liliana, a glint in his gaze in the candlelight. “For me, yes. And for Ms. Dawnson… let’s see.” He studied her as if reading her mind. “A Sauvignon Blanc. New Zealand. Perhaps the Awatere valley.”

Liliana froze for a fraction of a second, her heart giving a single, treacherous thump. He remembered. But she let none of the shock show on her face. She simply offered the waiter a cool, thin smile. “Actually, I’m in the mood for a Barolo tonight. Your most robust vintage, please.”

It was a subtle but definitive rejection. She wasn't just refusing the wine, she was refusing their history.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed slightly, a silent acknowledgment of her countermove. “A bold choice,” was all he said.

After the wine was served, Liliana got straight to the point, placing her tablet on the table. “I’ve drafted some preliminary sketches based on our conversation. If we’re to move forward…”

“Later,” Sebastian cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “No work at the dinner table, Liliana. Old rule, remember?”

The casual use of her first name was a violation. Liliana took a slow, deliberate breath. “That rule applied when I was your wife, Mr. Blackwood. Currently, I am your contractor. And my time is your money.”

“Then consider this a billable hour,” he retorted, completely unfazed. He leaned back, observing her. “I’ve been thinking about your atrium proposal. It’s a fine idea. But I want something more. A signature piece.”

“What kind of signature piece?” Liliana asked, forced to play along.

“A winter garden. In the middle of the lobby. Glass walls, a small waterfall. Something unexpected.”

Liliana went still. It was their silly, whispered dream, repeated back to her as if it were his own brilliant business idea. A pang of hurt shot through her, but her expression remained like ice.

“That’s an ambitious concept,” she said, her voice flat. “It would require a complete structural overhaul and would cost millions.”

“I have millions,” Sebastian replied simply. “The question isn’t if we can afford it, but if you can do it.”

“Of course I can do it,” Liliana retorted, her tone sharp. “Any idea can be executed with the right budget and timeline.”

“Good,” he said. The silence returned as their food arrived.

They ate, the only sound the clinking of silver on porcelain. It was torture. Liliana could feel Sebastian’s gaze on her, a hungry look that had nothing to do with food. She could feel the heat from his leg, just inches from hers under the table. Every nerve in her body was on high alert.

“Stop it,” she finally said, her voice low and controlled.

“Stop what?” Sebastian asked, lifting his wine glass, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Stop this game,” she said. “Stop using our past as a negotiation tactic. Stop looking at me like you know all my secrets.”

Sebastian set his glass down. The smirk vanished, replaced by an intensity that made Liliana’s skin prickle. “I do know your secrets, Liliana,” he whispered, his voice husky and dangerous. “I know you haven’t slept properly since our meeting. I know you changed your perfume, but you still use the same gardenia-scented moisturizer. And I know,” he leaned forward slightly, “that your heart is currently beating fast enough to create ripples in your water glass.”

Liliana glanced at her water glass. There was, in fact, a tiny, tell-tale tremor on the surface. Damn him.

“You’re arrogant,” she hissed.

“I’m observant,” he corrected. “Always have been.”

He was right. He always had been. He was a man who noticed the smallest details, a trait that had once made her feel cherished, but now felt like an invasion.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” she asked bluntly, tired of the games.

He leaned back, his mask of arrogance sliding back into place. “I told you. I want the best for this project. And that’s you. I’m simply assessing my asset.”

“I am not your asset.”

“You’re on my payroll, Ms. Dawnson. Technically, you are.”

That was enough. Liliana placed her napkin on the table. “Then here are my terms of employment, Mr. Blackwood. From now on, all communication will be conducted via email or in your office during business hours. No more dinners. No more off-site meetings unless absolutely necessary and in the presence of a third party.”

She stood up. “And one more thing.”

Sebastian looked up, his dark eyes challenging.

“Stop calling me Liliana,” she said, her voice like ice. “My name is Ms. Dawnson. And it will remain that way until this project is complete.”

She turned to leave.

“Liliana.”

His voice, low and laced with something that was almost a plea, stopped her in her tracks. She paused, but did not turn.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly.

“I’ve already done it,” she replied without looking back, and continued walking out of the restaurant, leaving Sebastian alone in the dim, curtained alcove.

He leaned back in his seat, swirling the last of the red wine in his glass. He had pushed her too far, too fast. His arrogance had taken over. He thought he could intimidate her into feeling something again. Instead, he had just made her build the walls higher.

He stared at the empty seat across from him. The silence she left behind was infinitely colder than her gaze had been. And in his restless heart, he knew one thing: he had just lost tonight's battle. But the war… the war was far from over.

***