Three days passed.
Olivia told herself she'd imagined the weight in Raymond greg's gaze, the way his words had lingered long after he left. She buried herself in work, avoided the street where they first crossed paths, and convinced herself she would never see him again.
It was working—until Friday afternoon.
The café near her office was unusually crowded, the warm scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around her as she joined the queue. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through messages, when the deep, low voice came from behind her.
"Still pretending you don't know me, Miss Olivia?"
Her head snapped up.
Raymond stood close—too close—his presence like a quiet storm that made the tiny café feel suddenly smaller. His suit today was navy, the color making his eyes look even sharper.
"I'm not pretending," she said, forcing her voice to sound calm. "We've met exactly twice. That hardly makes us acquaintances."
"True." His lips curved slightly, the way a predator might before pouncing. "But I intend to change that."
Before she could reply, the barista called her order. She reached for her cup, but his hand brushed hers—just enough for her pulse to skip—before he smoothly picked it up himself.
"You're in a hurry," he said, holding her coffee like he owned it. "I'll walk with you."
"I didn't invite you," she replied, but it came out softer than she intended.
"You didn't have to." He stepped beside her, matching her stride as they left the café.
The city noise swallowed them, but his presence was impossible to ignore. Every glance he gave her felt deliberate, every silence charged.
When they reached the corner, he stopped.
"I'm having dinner tomorrow at Seven Oaks. Join me."
She blinked. "That's… not really a request, is it?"
His smirk deepened. "You're starting to understand me."
And before she could refuse—or agree—he stepped into a waiting car, leaving her with her coffee, a racing heart, and the uneasy certainty that saying no to Raymond Greg would be far harder than she thought.