Chapter 5 The Dinner

Alina hadn't planned to say yes.

She told herself she was only curious. That she owed herself answers after that night. Not with the big turn it took on her life.

But as she stood outside the warm-glowing rooftop restaurant, hands pressed to her coat, she knew the truth.

She wanted to see him again.

And that terrified her.

The hostess gave her a once-over, paused, then smiled with polite surprise. "Miss Rivera? Right this way."

Alina blinked. He made a reservation in my name?

She followed her through sleek, amber-lit halls until they emerged onto a private terrace.

Zane was already there.

Leaning casually against the balcony railing, black suit sharp against the velvet dusk with no tie, collar open complimenting his jaw line. The city lights behind him like a crown.

He turned at the sound of her heels.

And for one fragile second, neither of them breathed.

"Hi," he said softly.

She swallowed. "Hi."

Zane didn't pull out her chair. He didn't lean in too close. He gave her distance, silence, and time.

Didn't want to pressure her.

And somehow, it made her more aware of him.

"You look beautiful," he said after they ordered. His voice was deep, warm, careful.

"I'm pregnant," she muttered. "There's nothing beautiful about it."

Zane's brow lifted slightly, but his gaze didn't waver.

"There is," he said. "You just don't see it yet."

Alina looked away, cheeks flushing.

She hated that he could still make her feel something.

Especially now. They talked about everything but that night at the club.

He asked about her work. Her favorite books. Music she liked.

And he listened. Actually... listened.

Like no one had in years.

"I wasn't expecting this," she murmured, poking at her plate.

"What did you expect?" he asked.

"I don't know. A guy who disappears after sleeping with a stranger. Not someone who... makes dinner reservations and asks about my favorite author."

Zane nodded slowly.

"I didn't handle things right," he admitted. "I should've stayed. I didn't expect you to mean anything."

The words landed with a dull thud.

Alina's grip tightened on her fork.

Noticing her change in expression, immediately.

"I mean," he added quickly, "I didn't think that night would stay with me. But it did."

Her eyes were glassy now. "Do you always say the perfect thing?"

"No," Zane said, honest for once. "Just when it matters."

...

Dessert came. Neither of them touched it.

The conversation slowed, weightier now.

She played with her water glass, not meeting his eyes. "You don't know anything about me."

"I'd like to," he said.

"Why?"

Zane paused. He wanted to say: Because you're carrying my child. Because you're the only softness left in this brutal, bloodthirsty world I rule.

Instead, he said, "Because I haven't stopped thinking about you."

Her breath hitched. Zane leaned forward, his eyes on hers.

"I want to be part of your world. Not just for tonight."

Alina stared at him.

Then finally whispered, "I don't even know your last name."

Zane's heartbeat faltered.

For a second, he considered telling her.

Letting the cards fall but his revenge wasn't complete. David hadn't paid yet.

So he smiled, just enough to distract her.

"Maybe I'll tell you next time."

She frowned. "That sounds like something a man with secrets would say."

Zane didn't flinch. "I have secrets. But none that would hurt you."

Yet.

...

When the check came already paid Alina stood first.

She looked out over the city, arms folded, heart pounding.

"You're hard to figure out," she said.

Zane joined her, careful not to touch her. Not yet.

"Then let me show you who I am."

She tilted her head, studying him.

And for the first time, her voice was softer. "Maybe I will."

...

He walked her to the elevator. Held the door open, letting her choose the distance.

As she stepped in, she turned back one last time.

"I meant what I said earlier," she murmured. "I don't know your last name."

Zane smiled faintly.

"You will."

Then the doors closed.

And he was alone.

...

Meanwhile... Across the City

David poured himself a drink in his penthouse, staring at the tabloid spread on his tablet.

A blurred photo taken from a rooftop across the street.

Alina all dressed up.

Sitting across from a man whose face was barely visible, half turned, cropped out.

But David knew that posture.

That build... That jaw.

Anger rushed within him. His hand clenched the glass tighter.

"...Zane."

The name tasted like poison. He hated that his ex-wife was seated with him.

He clenched his hand to a fist slamming it into the wall.

"She's mine alone".

He turned to his phone.

"Get me everything on that man. Now."