His lawyer and EA had peeled away earlier, leaving him alone with Victoria. She walked ahead of him with practiced poise, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, every inch the composed Salvatierra daughter.

The fine dining restaurant glowed with muted elegance, all marble floors and crystal chandeliers, the hum of hushed conversations carrying like a low tide. A maître d’ in a tailored suit led them past the other diners and toward a secluded corner table draped in white linen. 

Nathaniel pulled out the chair for her, and once Victoria was seated, he took the seat across from her. Moments later, the waiter approached and slid the menus across the table with practiced precision before stepping back.

She set her handbag carefully against the seat, glanced at the wine list, then at Nathaniel. “Their signature dish is the wagyu beef steak,” she said, her voice even, businesslike. “Would you like to try that? It pairs well with their wines. They have an excellent cellar.”

His lips curved into a slow smirk. “Of course. Since my fiancée recommends it, how could I resist?”

Something about the word fiancée made the space between them tighten. Victoria kept her posture tall, her delicate fingers skimming just above the menu, betraying nothing.

She turned to the waiter.

“One wagyu beef steak, please.” Then she looked at Nathaniel again, the question formal, detached. “How would you like it cooked—well done, medium, or rare?”

“Medium rare,” he said, the reply low and certain.

The waiter scribbled briskly. “And for you, ma’am?”

“Ravioli,” Victoria answered without hesitation, her tone softened by courtesy. “With a red that complements both dishes.”

The waiter nodded, collected their menus, and retreated, leaving the air suddenly more private, almost heavy.

Victoria reached for the glass of water in front of her, her throat dry, and sipped carefully. The silence stretched like a taut wire. Now that the formalities of ordering were over, the harder question pressed in—what did one say, after eleven years of distance, and under the shadow of an arrangement neither of them had chosen?

Her mind flicked through possible openers. How are you? How have you been? The thoughts sounded ridiculous the moment they formed. Too naïve. Too small for the weight of history between them.

Across the table, Nathaniel studied her. It had been a while since they’d shared a meal together—like a date. He noticed how her eyes deliberately avoided his, how she lifted her glass with composed precision. When she took a sip, a trace of water lingered on her lips. His gaze caught there for a second longer than he intended, before he forced himself to look away—back to her eyes. They used to be warm, hazel flecked with light. Now, they looked distant. Colder.

The wine arrived first, deep crimson poured into long-stemmed glasses that caught the light. The waiter offered a polite bow before vanishing again, leaving them in the bubble of their corner table.

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, swirling the deep red wine in his glass. His eyes never left her, sharp and teasing as he said, almost lazily,

“Don’t you have something to ask me? Or are you planning to sit there in silence and pretend we’re strangers?”

Victoria’s brow tightened, though her posture remained composed.

“I don’t have anything to ask you,” she replied, her tone clipped, carefully measured.

A slow smirk tugged at Nathaniel’s lips. He set the glass down with deliberate ease, tilting his head as if studying her.

“Really? Because your face says otherwise.”

She sighed, leaning back against her chair.

“Anyway, don’t you think you’re entering a lion’s den? You’re putting yourself at risk.”

Nathaniel smirked, leaning closer, his voice low and amused.

“You’re concerned about me?” he drawled, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “How sweet… I almost believed you’ve moved on.”

Victoria straightened, her expression smoothing into something cool and businesslike, as if she had swapped out one mask for another.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not saying this because I care for you. In this game, my Dad always wins. Even in this—our engagement, your so-called business alliance—he still comes out ahead. More than you realize.”

“You’re contradicting yourself,” Nathaniel countered smoothly. “The way I hear it, you’re concerned for my well-being. I’m touched, Victoria. After eleven years, I didn’t know I still mattered to you.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes narrowed just slightly, betraying the tiniest flicker of irritation.

“Why did you agree to this engagement? What is it for you? You’re not gaining anything from it anyway.”

“I didn’t agree to it,” Nathaniel corrected calmly, setting his glass down. “I proposed it. I am the one who asked to marry you.”

For the first time, Victoria faltered—speechless. The silence hung between them until the waiter arrived with their food, breaking the tension. She composed herself while Nathaniel, unbothered, sliced into his wagyu beef. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then let a slow smile curve his lips.

“Mmm… this tastes good.” He looked up at her. His voice dropped—smooth, deliberate, dangerous. “I didn’t know you had such exquisite taste… though I suppose I should’ve guessed.”

Victoria’s brow furrowed. “Seriously, why would you do that? Do you—”

She cut herself short, hesitation tightening her throat. She wasn’t ready to hear his answer.

But Nathaniel finished it for her, casually cruel in his playfulness. “—Do I still love you? After you broke me? Is that what you were trying to say?”

Her gaze darted away. “Let’s eat. The food’s going to get cold.”

Reaching into her bag, Victoria pulled out a hair claw. With practiced ease, she gathered the upper part of her long hair and clipped it back, letting the rest fall in soft, silken waves down her back. It was a small, practical habit, one she did without thought—keeping her hair from spilling forward while she ate.

But Nathaniel stilled, his knife paused halfway through the steak, eyes catching on the reveal of her pale ivory neck, the quiet elegance she carried so naturally. For a fleeting second, it stirred something dangerous in him. He brushed it off with a breath, masking it beneath his usual composure.

“You still do that before you eat,” he remarked, casual, as if it was an idle observation.

Victoria’s hand lingered for a second on the clip, and her brow furrowed just slightly at his words. The fact that he remembered such a small, ordinary detail unsettled her. She lowered her gaze to her plate, hoping he wouldn’t see the way her composure had cracked, just a little, beneath the weight of memory.

And yet Nathaniel saw it all.