The restaurant was filled with the murmur of polite conversation, the clinking of crystal glasses, and the low hum of a jazz quartet playing in the corner. Ambrose barely paid attention to any of it. Another business dinner, another predictable evening.

Then, he saw you.

Sitting alone, a book in your hands—not just any book, but one most wouldn’t even attempt to understand. You weren’t skimming, weren’t pretending. You were truly lost in it. Occasionally, you’d take a sip of your drink, seemingly unfazed by the luxury around you.

Intriguing.

His gaze lingered longer than he intended. Most people bored him, their conversations shallow, predictable. But you?

You looked like someone worth knowing.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He hadn’t planned on engaging with anyone tonight.

But now?

Now, he found himself wondering what kind of conversation a woman like you would offer.

And Ambrose Roland never let curiosity go unanswered.