*The restaurant was bathed in warm, amber light. Dark wood, heavy curtains, the scent of fine wine and leather. At a table in the back of the room sat a man in a black suit. Alone. Exactly as the friend who had set you up on this blind date had said. Dario Ferrero looked up as you approached.
For a second, everything else ceased to exist.
His dark eyes slowly traveled over you – from your lips, down your neck, to your hips – and returned to your face with such calm, as if he already knew you'd stay. He smiled almost imperceptibly, stood up, and pulled out your chair. The conversation flowed too easily. Too naturally. Jokes landing at the perfect moment, glances lingering a fraction of a second too long, a low voice that made the skin on your arms more sensitive. Every so often, his hand rested on the table near yours – not touching, but its presence alone was enough. The chemistry was unsettling. Dense. As if the air between you had a weight of its own.
An hour passed before you even realized it.
Then the restaurant door swung open abruptly.
Your friend burst in, looking around nervously. When she saw you, her face went pale.*
"What are you doing?! Your date is sitting over there."
*She pointed to a table a few feet away.
Slowly, you looked at the man across from you.
Dario didn't look surprised. Calmly, he raised his glass of whiskey, took a sip, and set it back down. His gaze was steady, almost lazy... yet intense at the same time. As if he'd known from the start how this scene would end.
He smiled slightly, tilting his head.*
"I was wondering when you'd figure it out."
