The maître d’ led him to a table near the back. Winn gave a curt nod of thanks, his mind already rehearsing how to frame his request.

He barely got the napkin onto his lap before someone—caught his attention.

Across the room, seated at a table by the window, was Ivy.

She looked... breathtaking.

And she wasn’t alone.

Seated across from her was a man.

Some tall, clean-cut type.

He stared at her, taking in just how beautiful she was—right there in the same room, yet somehow beyond reach. Her formal wrap dress was a deep wine color, tracing the lines of her figure every time she shifted in her chair. It was elegant, professional.

She still did that thing. Biting her lower lip whenever she was nervous or holding back a scathing retort. Tonight, he couldn’t tell which. Was she nervous? Or was she restraining herself from tearing into the man sitting across from her?

He forced himself to look away. Maurice arrived soon after and they began to talk business—divorce proceedings, settlements, the press, all the boring but necessary scaffolding of a man trying to get his life back.

But even as Maurice spoke, Winn’s eyes kept betraying him. He’d nod, pretend to listen, then glance back at Ivy when Maurice looked down at his notes.

Every time, she was there—smiling, gesturing, occasionally tucking her hair behind her ear, her laughter bubbling.

*****

Okay, when Sam had told Ivy there was a friend’s son he wanted to introduce her to, she’d assumed someone pompous, entitled, and thoroughly forgettable. Maybe a trust fund brat. She had mentally prepared herself for thirty minutes of fake smiles.

But Eugene... was fine.

From the moment he’d walked into Seinfeld, with his easy smile, Ivy had been intrigued. He wasn’t flashy or arrogant. He had kind eyes and a voice smooth enough to make a jazz singer jealous.

His laugh was genuine, his posture open, and his sense of humor? Damn near perfect.

He’d started the evening with a playful line that actually made her snort. "So, I hear I’m supposed to charm you into marrying me," he’d said as they took their seats.

Now, an hour later, she found herself relaxed. Really relaxed. The tension in her shoulders had melted.

Eugene was... safe. Refreshing. Funny without trying too hard.

"So," Eugene said between sips of his drink, his smile teasing. "Your grandpa is playing matchmaker too, huh?"

"Ugh... I... well, I did agree to meet, so I can’t totally put the blame on him," Ivy said. The truth was, she hadn’t expected to enjoy the evening.

She thought she’d be counting minutes until she could escape to her bed, her comfort blanket, and maybe a guilty spoonful of ice cream. Instead, here she was, actually smiling.

"Trust me," Eugene said. "Sam has been talking about you since the moment we heard your mother came back. And I must say, he didn’t lie."

"Aww, aren’t you smooth?" she teased, arching a brow.

He shrugged lightly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe I’m just being honest. Besides, I’m starting to think it was a good thing you were raised outside of the family. Most women in our circle are... well, let’s just say, a little too self-aware of their reflection. Spoiled princesses, the lot of them. Everything revolves around their manicures and designer tantrums."

"I think the same can be said about men in that circle," Ivy countered, stabbing a piece of salmon and pointing her fork at him playfully. "You all walk around with the same smug look—like the world owes you a round of applause for simply existing."

Eugene chuckled, leaning closer, his hazel eyes glinting with humor. "So, I’m guessing with the fact that you’ve been smiling constantly for the last fifteen minutes, I’m the exception?"

Ivy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Maybe you’re just trying too hard to impress me."

He grinned. "Yeah... maybe. Have I been?"

Ivy laughed in response, her hand brushing her hair back to hide the flush creeping up her neck. "You’re doing... alright," she said, smirking. "So, what do you do?"

And just like that, the conversation deepened. They talked about their lives—her work at Everest, his family firm. They joked about bad family dinners, meddling grandparents. Eugene made her laugh—really laugh—until her cheeks hurt.

"Okay, I’ll admit," Eugene said between laughs, "I haven’t had this much fun on a date in... years. And no, that’s not a line."

"Oh, sure," Ivy said, smirking. "I’m sure you say that to all your dinner companions right before dessert."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are something, Ivy Morales."

Their plates were cleared, dessert menus brought over, but Ivy barely looked at hers. She was relaxed, smiling.

And then—her phone pinged.

"Uh, excuse me," Ivy said quickly. "Might be work."

"Yeah, I heard Everest partnered with House of Kane. It’s a bold business move. But looks like it’s paying off." Eugene lifted his glass of wine.

"Yeah..." Ivy replied, a little distractedly, her fingers rummaging through her purse.

"I also know you were the runaway bride."

"Ugh... that’s gonna follow me for the rest of my life, isn’t it?" she said, forcing a laugh.

"Hard to forget a headline like that," Eugene teased lightly.

"Story of my life," Ivy muttered, finally pulling her phone from her bag.

: You look so incredible, I want to unwrap that dress.

She glanced up sharply, her eyes darting across the restaurant. He couldn’t be here—could he?

"Everything alright?" Eugene asked, noticing her sudden stillness. His brows furrowed slightly, genuine concern etched across his handsome face.

"Yeah, sure." Ivy tucked the phone face-down. "Just... uhm... I have to get home. It’s been quite a day. I went from work to school, and Grandpa’s probably waiting up, wanting all the details on this meeting before he goes to bed."

"Put in a good word for me, yeah?"

Her laughter bubbled up. "Look Eugene, you are an incredible man and amazing company, but I’m just not..."

He lifted his palm before she could finish. "I get it. Don’t wound my fragile ego by finishing that sentence." He grinned. "This isn’t the 1940s. Arranged relationships are archaic—but well, we still have to humor our parents now and then, don’t we?"

"I hear you. We could still be friends though." Ivy said. She smiled up at him—an easy, genuine smile—and hoped he could read the honesty in her eyes.

She didn’t want to hurt him; Eugene was too kind, too decent. Too normal for the chaos her life currently was.

"Perfect. I was just about to suggest that. Phew! Saved my ego there. Thank you," Eugene replied, placing a hand dramatically on his chest.

"I’m sorry. You seem like a great guy, gorgeous even," she said teasingly, tilting her head as she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "You should have a bevy of women around you."

"Oh, trust me, there have been bevies," Eugene said, grinning. "They come, they pout, they sip champagne, and then they leave when they realize I actually like conversation more than taking selfies."

That earned another laugh from her.

He stood, offering his hand to help her up. He was every inch the gentleman. "Well," he said, "I told you, most women in our circle are spoiled princesses. I’ve had so many disastrous dates with them, I was honestly dreading this one at first."

"Well, you should look outside your circle then. You never know the gem you might find."

Eugene smiled at that. Oh, he’d already found the gem. She just didn’t know it yet.

When they reached the car, her driver/bodyguard stood a few steps away.

Eugene turned to face her, hands in his pockets at first, then stepping closer. "Listen," he said quietly. "I know we said to be friends. And I’ll respect it."

Ivy tilted her head, curious now. "Okay..." she said slowly.

"But," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "I’m going to kiss you now, and I don’t want you to step away."

The audacity in his tone was tempered by the sincerity in his eyes. He didn’t reach for her right away—he waited. Gave her space to object.

"That negates being friends, doesn’t it?" Ivy said.

"Just experimenting with something," Eugene murmured, and there was a teasing edge in his tone. His hand brushed her arm and then he bent low and kissed her. Just briefly, a whisper of warmth and pressure. He drew back slightly. "You are the incredible one."

"Thank you," she said softly, smiling nervously, because what else could she do? Eugene’s eyes stayed on her for another beat before he stepped back, giving her space to breathe again.

He opened the back door of her car. Ivy slid into the car, her fingers clutching her bag tightly in her lap.

As the car pulled away, Ivy glanced back, catching one last glimpse of him standing there, watching her leave—hands in pockets, a quiet smile playing on his lips.