A dinner Date

I spent the day walking around campus like a zombie. My neck wouldn't stop itching. Underneath the thick layer of concealer, the mark felt like a living thing, buzzing against my pulse.

Does it still hurt, Elena?

The way he’d said my name... it was driving me insane. I was a law student. I was supposed to be logical. He can say whatever the hell he wants to but I know it was him that night.

I was so deep in my own head that I didn't hear the hum of the engine.

I stepped off the curb near the university's main gate, my eyes glued to my textbook, when a screech of tires sliced through the air. I looked up, paralyzed, as a sleek, silver sports car—the kind that cost more than my life—swerved, missing my knees by a mere inch.

I fell back onto the pavement, my books scattering everywhere.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!"

The car door swung open, and a man stepped out. For a second, my heart stopped. The height, the build, the sharp jawline—it was him.

But then he stepped into the sunlight, and the illusion shattered. This man didn’t have Alaric’s dark, brooding hair; his was a striking, silver, styled to perfection. He wasn't wearing a suit, but a designer sweater that looked soft enough to melt into. And his eyes—while they were that same haunting blue—were dancing with warmth and concern, not cold like Alaric's own.

"Are you hurt? Please tell me you're okay," he said, reaching down to help me up.

"I—I'm fine," I stammered, taking his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle.

"I’m Silas," he said, giving me a smile that could probably end wars. "And I’m a complete idiot for not watching the crosswalk. I was on a conference call and... well, that’s no excuse for almost flattening the most beautiful woman on campus."

I felt my face flush. He was charming. Effortlessly charming. Unlike Alaric, who made me feel like a bug under a microscope, Silas made me feel like the only person in the world. I don't know why I'm already clinging onto the idea of Silas but it's not everyday a handsome rich man flirts with you.

"I'm Elena," I managed to say, brushing the dirt off my jeans.

"Elena," he repeated, his voice like honey. He looked at my books on the ground and then back at me. "Look, Elena, I feel terrible. Please, let me make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Somewhere quiet, where I can properly apologize for my terrible driving."

I should have said no. I had a mountain of homework, and I was already emotionally exhausted. But I looked at his kind face and thought about Alaric’s coldness. I needed a distraction. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn't into my professor.

"Okay," I said softly. "Dinner sounds nice.” I hope I don't regret this decision with a total stranger.

Silas led me to his car, I sat inside, feeling the smoothness of the chair, Silas gave me a smirk before speeding off. He didn't turn on the radio; he just drove, occasionally glancing at me with a smirk that made me want to hide and lean closer all at the same time.

When we pulled up to the curb, a valet in a uniform scurried over. Silas didn't wait for him to open my door. He was already there, offering his hand to help me out of the low-slung seat.

"Relax, Elena," he whispered, his breath catching the stray hairs near my ear. "You’re with me. No one here is looking at anything but how lucky I am."

The restaurant, The Golden Lily, was perched on the fiftieth floor. As we walked in, the head waiter bowed—actually bowed—to Silas.

"Sir. Your usual table?"

"The corner, Pierre. We’d like some privacy."

Silas led me to a table overlooking the entire city. Before I could even reach for the back of the chair, he was behind me. I felt the warmth of his body as he leaned in, his hands firmly holding the gold chair and sliding it forward as I sat. His fingers lingered on the wood near my shoulders for a second too long before he moved to his own seat.

"I... I feel like I should have changed," I said, smoothing my skirt. I was wearing my campus clothes—jeans and a decent blouse—but surrounded by women in fancy gowns and diamonds, I felt like a stray cat.

"You're the most interesting thing in this room," Silas said, dismissing my worry with a wave of his hand. He didn't even look at the menu. He just looked at me. "I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering the tasting menu for us. And the wine—a 1998 vintage. It’s light, but it has a bit of a bite. You look like a girl who appreciates a bit of a bite."

My heart did a nervous little skip. A bite. Was he joking? Or was it just a coincidence?

"So, Silas," I said, trying to regain some control over the conversation. "What exactly do you do? Besides almost running over scholarship students?"

He grinned, showing off perfectly white teeth. "I run an Industries. We do a bit of everything—tech, real estate, private security. I spend most of my days in boardrooms listening to men in suits bore me to death. Which is why meeting someone like you is such a breath of fresh air."

"Someone like me? You mean a girl who can't cross the street properly?"

"I mean someone real," he said, his gaze turning intense. "Someone whose eyes tell a story. You’re sad, Elena. And you’re angry. Why?"

I froze. He was too observant. "My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—cheated on me. With my best friend. I found them two days ago."

Silas’s expression didn't change, but the air around the table felt heavier. "A man who lets a woman like you go is a fool. And a man who hurts you... well, he doesn't deserve to keep his tongue."

The waiter arrived then, placing small plates of seared scallops and truffle cream in front of us. Silas ate, gesturing to me to go ahead. I followed his move, his eyes watching me over the rim of his wine glass.

"Tell me about your studies," he prompted. "Law is a heavy burden for such a young woman."

"I like the order of it," I said, finally relaxing a little as the wine started to hum in my blood. "There are rules. If you break them, there are consequences. It makes sense."

"Rules are meant to be broken by the people who have the power to rewrite them," Silas countered. He reached across the table, his fingers tracing the rim of my glass. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to do something just because it felt good, even if the rules said no?"

I thought of the man in the bar. I thought of the way I’d let a stranger bite me. I thought of the way my body ached when Professor Blackwood looked at me.

"I try to be a good person," I whispered.

"Being good is boring, Elena," Silas murmured. He stood up, but instead of leaving, he walked around to my side of the table. "Walk with me to the balcony? The air is clearer out there."

I followed him out into the night air. The lights twinkled below us like fallen stars. Silas stood close behind me.

"You're shivering," he said. He didn't offer his jacket. Instead, he reached out, his hand sliding over mine where it gripped the railing.

The moment our skin touched, the mark on my neck didn't just itch—it erupted. A blinding heat shot from the puncture marks, down my spine, and straight to my core. It was the exact same feeling I’d had with Alaric.

I gasped, my legs feeling like jelly.

"Elena? Is something wrong?" Silas asked. His thumb began to stroke the back of my hand, He didn't let go. His grip tightened, and for a split second, that warm, charming billionaire mask slipped. His eyes went dark, the blue turning into a deep, stormy darkness.

He looked hungry. Not for food, but for me.

"I... I just got a chill," I lied, my voice trembling so hard I could barely get the words out.

I felt physically sick with confusion. How was this possible? I was pining for a professor who treated me like garbage, still dreaming about a stranger who had bitten me in a parking lot, and now I was standing on a balcony wanting a billionaire I’d known for three hours to push me against the glass and never let me go.

"You're a very good liar, Elena," Silas whispered, his lips brushing against my temple. "But your pulse is racing. I can feel it against my skin."

I pulled my hand away, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. "I have to go. Please. I just... I need to go home."

"What is wrong with me?" I whispered as I bolted out the door

The mark on my neck felt like a brand. A mark of shame.

I wasn't just a scholarship student anymore. I was a liar. I was a traitor to my own heart. Why do I feel this way because of Professor Alaric, someone who doesn't care.