𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝑰𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 25

The restaurant had a comforting warmth as soon as we stepped in, the low hum of conversation blending with soft music. Nicolas walked beside me, his hand brushing mine as we moved toward the table. There was an ease to the way he navigated the room, like this place was a part of him. It felt intimate, almost like I was stepping into a piece of his world.

I glanced at him, sensing a subtle tension in his shoulders. Something was on his mind. “You okay?” I asked quietly, wanting to know but not pushing too much.

He looked at me, the softest smile tugging at his lips. “I’m good. Just...thinking.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, an older man in a sharp suit approached us. His eyes lit up as he saw Nicolas, his posture straightening with familiarity.

"I must admit, when I first heard you were here, I thought it was a mockery. Guess I was wrong," the man spoke.
" Mr Wilson."
"Nicolas. And who might this lovely young lady be?"

"Mr Wilson. Meet my wife, Sophia Vasilios."

I watched the exchange, a little intrigued by how comfortable they seemed. Nicolas gave a small smile, but it was when Mr. Wilson turned to me that I felt the full weight of his welcome.

"It’s nice to finally put a face to a name I’ve heard so much about," Mr. Wilson said, his eyes twinkling with warmth. He extended his hand toward me.

I blinked, surprised. My name? I smiled and took his hand. "Good things, I hope."

Mr. Wilson chuckled, his gaze shifting back to Nicolas briefly. "Only the best. You’ve been on this man’s mind for quite some time."

I looked at Nicolas, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Is that so?"

Nicolas shifted, clearly a little flustered by the attention, but before he could respond, Mr. Wilson continued, leaning slightly forward as if sharing a secret. "I’ve seen Nicolas here many nights, sitting quietly with his thoughts. It’s good to see him with someone special."

A warmth spread through me at his words. Special. I glanced at Nicolas, the corners of my lips lifting in a small smile. Under the table, I gently squeezed his hand. "I’m honoured," I said, my voice light, though there was a sincerity beneath it.

Nicolas cleared his throat, casting a slightly exasperated look at Mr. Wilson. "We’re just here for dinner, Wilson," he said, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. "Don’t worry," I teased, giving Nicolas a playful glance. "I’ll get all those deep thoughts out of him later."

Mr. Wilson laughed, a rich, genuine sound, before stepping back. "Enjoy your evening. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember."

As he walked away, I turned my attention back to Nicolas, my curiosity growing. There was something about this place about the way he had been here before that made me wonder what it had meant to him.

"So," I said, leaning in slightly, my smile softening. "What were those deep thoughts, Mr. Wilson was talking about?"

Nicolas looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then, finally, he let out a breath, his voice quieter than before. "Mostly about you."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I hadn’t expected that. The honesty in his voice, the way he looked at me—it felt like there was more behind it, more that he wasn’t saying, but the weight of what he did say hit me hard enough.

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, and in that moment, the rest of the restaurant faded away. It was just the two of us, a quiet connection forming as we sat there, ready to step into something new together.