As the main course arrived, the gentle clink of cutlery mingled with soft background music. I felt my pulse quicken again, not from the food, but from the way James' gaze lingered just a fraction too long on me, the almost imperceptible brush of his hand near mine when he reached for the bread. The subtle electricity in every glance made my chest tighten, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
"You seem more relaxed now," he said, voice low, teasing just enough to make me flush.
"I… am," I admitted, feeling the warmth of the wine and the intimacy of the setting loosening my nerves. "It's… easy to relax when you're… well, with someone who makes you feel comfortable."
His eyes darkened subtly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that what I do to you?"
I laughed softly, unable to resist the playfulness. "Maybe," I murmured, letting my gaze linger a second too long. "It's… hard to explain."
For a few moments, conversation drifted between light comments about the dishes, playful remarks about the restaurant's décor, and small jokes about office life. Yet beneath it all, the tension thrummed, unspoken, pulling tighter with every glance and subtle movement.
Finally, he leaned back slightly, his tone calm but deliberate. "Tell me about your family," he asked. "You've never mentioned much."
I took a small breath, glancing down at my plate for a moment, feeling the familiar mix of nerves and desire. Do I tell him everything? No. Not yet. But… he deserves some honesty.
"My parents…" I began slowly, careful to keep my voice even. "They… died when I was very young. Around three years old. I was raised by my aunt and uncle after that."
He listened intently, silent, yet entirely present, that magnetic focus making me feel exposed and safe all at once.
"My uncle is a doctor, and my aunt is a manager at a multinational in the energy sector," I continued, the memories making my voice soften. "They have a son, my cousin, who is just a year older than me. He followed in my uncle's footsteps and became a doctor too. He and I… we've always been very close. Like actual siblings, really."
I paused, letting the words settle. "They've always supported me, even though I wasn't their daughter. They gave me everything I could need and more. They always encouraged me to follow my dreams, to pursue what I wanted. I've never felt like I was just the niece — I've always been… part of their family. Truly part of it."
James' expression softened subtly, the calm composure in his eyes giving me the courage to continue. "I… love them very much," I admitted quietly. "They've shaped who I am. And my cousin… he's been my anchor, my constant."
He nodded thoughtfully, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It sounds like you were very lucky," he said. "To have a family like that, to feel that kind of love and support."
"I know," I murmured, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I try to honor them… by being who I am. And I always want to make them proud."
There was a pause, and then I asked, my voice slightly nervous, "What about you, James? Your family… do you have anyone close?"
His eyes darkened subtly, and for a moment, the playful charm vanished, replaced by a quiet intensity that made my heart race. "I do," he said carefully. "I have a close family, though… complicated. But important. My parents are alive, though we don't always see eye to eye. My younger sister, Selene — you know her — she's fiercely independent, brilliant, and always has my back. She's in law, handles corporate cases mostly, and has this knack for reading people… can be a little terrifying, actually."
I nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes, I've met her. She's… formidable."
He gave a faint smirk. "Formidable is one word. Protective is another. She's like a shadow at my side, always watching, always ready to step in if needed. And my other sister… she's expecting her first child soon. Her name's Livia, she works in design — interiors, mostly high-end clients. She's warm, spirited, completely different from Selene, but just as loyal."
I listened, fascinated, picturing the dynamic: two sisters so different, yet both so connected to him. "Wow… you're very close with them."
"Yes," he said softly, eyes flicking to mine with something deeper, almost vulnerable. "They've always been my anchor. Even when things… get complicated. I trust them implicitly. And they trust me. It's… grounding, knowing you have people like that. People who see all of you, the good and the bad, and still choose to be there."
I felt my chest tighten, a mix of admiration and longing. "It must be… comforting, having family like that. People you can rely on, no matter what."
"It is," he murmured, voice low, eyes distant for a moment, as if reflecting on all he'd experienced. Then his gaze snapped back to me, steady and intense. "Though, at times, it can be dangerous. Knowing that much love and loyalty… it comes with expectations. Responsibilities. Sometimes protection can feel like a cage, even when it's meant for you."
I realized in that instant how much this told me about him — the depth behind his calm, composed exterior, the sense of responsibility that weighed on him, the loyalty that defined him. And despite every reason I had to remain cautious, I felt myself drawn closer, captivated by his openness, by the quiet strength he carried.
I sipped my wine again, warmth spreading through me, and silently reminded myself: enjoy the evening, stay cautious, but also… let yourself feel it.
Because sitting across from him, listening to him reveal this part of himself, I understood: nothing would ever be the same again