The Moreau estate glowed under soft evening lights as staff moved swiftly through the halls. The dining room had been set with fresh white lilies, silver cutlery, and a long mahogany table that gleamed under the chandeliers.
Evelyn stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting the pale blue silk gown Elijah had picked for her. It was elegant, slightly off-shoulder, and understated. Her hair was swept back into a loose twist, a few strands framing her face.
She let out a soft sigh, pressing her hands to her stomach.
It’s just dinner. Formal, polite, no pressure. Just two families reconnecting.
But why does it feel like a first date?
Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. She scolded herself for it and turned away just as Elijah entered her room.
“You look beautiful,” he said simply.
“You always say that when you’re nervous about something,” she replied, turning to him with a raised brow.
Elijah smirked. “Maybe. But tonight, I’m just your brother. Not the one who brokered this dinner.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Not exactly comforting, Eli.”
He stepped closer, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.
“If anything feels wrong, you tell me. But I think... this might be good for you.”
She gave a slow nod. “I’ll be fine.”
Valentine arrived exactly on time.
He stepped out of the car dressed in tailored black, the faintest glint of silver at his cufflinks. He looked calm as ever—composed, distant—but when his eyes met Evelyn’s as she greeted him in the entry hall, something in him clenched.
She’s more breathtaking than I remembered.
God... keep it together.
“Valentine,” Elijah greeted warmly, pulling him into a half-embrace. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” Valentine said, his voice low. “It’s good to be here.”
His gaze flicked to Evelyn, standing a few steps behind. Their eyes met, and for a second, time slowed.
“Evelyn,” he said softly.
“Valentine.”
Her voice was steady, but her fingers curled slightly at her sides. He noticed.
He offered her a small, respectful smile. She returned it, unsure of what to make of the strange tension simmering between them.
He’s... taller than I remembered. More refined.
Still quiet, still unreadable—but not indifferent. Definitely not indifferent.
Dinner began with quiet small talk. Elijah took the lead, discussing investments, art shows, and travel, while Evelyn responded here and there. Valentine listened more than he spoke, his eyes often drifting to Evelyn when she wasn’t looking.
“Your staff always outdoes themselves,” Valentine finally said, his voice cutting through the space with smooth precision. “This wine pairing is excellent.”
“It’s French,” Evelyn replied. “From the vineyard my mother once favored.”
Valentine’s eyes met hers for a moment longer than necessary.
“You remembered.”
Her lips parted slightly, surprised. “Of course. She had good taste.”
So do you, he almost said—but didn’t.
Instead, his gaze dropped briefly to her hand when she reached for her glass. The way her fingers held the stem... the light curve of her wrist...
He turned away quickly.
After dinner, Elijah excused himself with a wink, claiming he had a call from the East Coast.
That left Valentine and Evelyn alone in the candlelit room. She walked toward the terrace doors, pushing them open and stepping into the cool night air. The moon hung low, casting a glow over the trimmed hedges below.
Valentine followed her out quietly, keeping a respectful distance.
“It’s strange,” she murmured. “Being back in the same space after so long.”
“It is,” he agreed. “But not unwelcome.”
She turned to him slightly. “You always used to be... quiet. Distant.”
He didn’t deny it. “I observed more than I spoke.”
“Still do,” she noted, smiling faintly. “I used to think you didn’t like me much.”
His head tilted. “And now?”
She hesitated. Now I think you see more than you say. And that unsettles me.
“Now I think you’re hard to read.”
A brief silence.
“And what do you think you’d find, if you read me?” he asked, stepping just a little closer.
Her breath caught at the unexpected weight in his words.
She turned her gaze back toward the garden. “Not sure yet. But I suppose I’ll find out if we marry.”
His jaw tightened subtly. The casual tone in her voice—like this was still theoretical—stabbed him in ways he hadn’t prepared for.
You’re here. Talking to me. Wearing silk I can barely stop looking at. And you still don’t see it.
Still, he said nothing.
“I want to be a good wife,” she said after a pause. “Not just for appearances. If we do this, I want it to be real. I just don’t know how real this can be when we barely know each other anymore.”
Valentine’s voice dropped lower.
“Then let’s start again.”
She turned toward him, surprised.
“Start what again?”
“Knowing each other.”
The air between them grew warmer, heavier.
She could see it now—behind his stillness, there was something deeper. Something smoldering, restrained only by the finest thread.
He wants this. Maybe more than I thought.
But still... no declaration. No pressure.
Just... presence.
It unsettled her more than any love confession ever could.
Later, Valentine sat in the back seat of his car, eyes on the road ahead but mind fixed on her.
She said she wants this to be real.
She doesn’t know she already is my reality.
His fingers curled into a fist on his thigh.
He had held back tonight. Bitten down every instinct to touch her, protect her, claim her.
But that would come in time.
He could wait... just a little longer.
I’ll make you feel wanted, Evelyn.
But not until you’re ready.
Back at the estate, Evelyn removed her earrings, watching her reflection in the mirror.
Her cheeks were faintly flushed. Her eyes distant.
He looked at me like he wanted to say something all night. Like he knew something I didn’t.
But I don’t feel afraid. I feel...
She couldn’t name it.
Not yet.
But she knew one thing.
Tonight, Valentine Valare had made her feel seen.
And somehow, that terrified her more than anything.
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