In the high-stakes world of New York's elite, real estate tycoon Zane Blackwells and fashion icon Livia Rook defy convention with their passionate love affair. As they navigate corporate battles and familial pressures, their bond faces relentless sc...
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The dinner was far more relaxed than I had anticipated. The atmosphere was elegant, and the food was, of course, excellent, but what caught my attention the most was Zane Blackwell. Sitting across from me, his presence commanded attention without ever seeming to demand it. He was effortlessly at ease, yet every word he spoke seemed deliberate, every glance carefully calculated.
I had expected him to be distant, aloof even, but he wasn't. Instead, he interacted with the others around the table as if he were genuinely interested in what they had to say. Still, there was something about his demeanor—something almost predatory—beneath the polished surface. And I couldn't help but wonder if it was the same for me as it was for everyone else in the room: the sense that, no matter how much we engaged, Zane was always several steps ahead.
The man beside me, an investor, was speaking about the economy, but I found my attention drifting to the man at the head of the table. Every so often, I caught him glancing at me, his eyes calculating, as though trying to piece together some puzzle only he could see.
I shifted slightly in my seat, pretending to listen to the conversation around me, but I couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze. He was watching me again. It wasn't the casual glance of someone making small talk—it was something more intense, almost predatory.
The man beside me said something that made me laugh, though it was more out of politeness than genuine amusement. I turned my head to see Zane's reaction. There it was again—his eyes, fixed on me for a split second before he quickly looked away, as though he had been caught staring.
It made my pulse quicken. There was something in the way he observed me, something that felt almost like an unspoken challenge. It was subtle, but it was there. And I couldn't help but feel drawn to it.
I caught his eye again and allowed myself a small smile, watching him carefully as his gaze flicked to mine. He didn't return the smile immediately, but there was a brief flicker of something in his expression. Amusement? Recognition? Maybe a little bit of both.
The conversation moved on, but the tension between us hung in the air, palpable, thick. I had a feeling that this dinner, and this meeting, wasn't about just the usual pleasantries. There was something more beneath the surface, something I couldn't quite place. But I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this dinner was exactly what I needed to understand Zane Blackwell—at least, just a little bit more.
The others around us were caught up in the chatter, the clinking of silverware, but for a moment, it was just him and me, two people caught in a silent dance that neither of us had fully admitted to. And I was starting to wonder just how far that dance might go.
