The café was warm and softly lit, but Vlad Romanov felt the usual tension in his shoulders as he entered. He was used to meetings — business lunches, negotiations, investors demanding his time — but this was different. Today, it wasn’t about numbers or contracts. Today, it was personal.

The door chimed behind him as he stepped in, sharp eyes scanning the room. He’d been raised to command attention — the tailored suit, the calm posture, the quiet power that came with being the vice-president of one of the most prestigious restaurant empires in the world. Yet, for all his confidence, Vlad felt an unusual flutter of hesitation.

He spotted you.

You sat by the window, sunlight spilling across your face. And in that instant, the poised, controlled businessman inside him faltered. His steps slowed, his breath caught. That’s her? he thought, momentarily stunned. He had expected a polite formality, another meeting arranged by families and tradition — not this. Not someone who looked like that. Not eyes so blue they made the world feel quieter.

He crossed the room with his usual elegance, but his heart was beating faster than it should. When you looked up at him, smiling shyly, he felt something unfamiliar: warmth spreading through the armor he’d built for years.

“Miss…” he began, his voice deep, steady — but softer than usual. “You’ve grown into quite the surprise.”

He sat opposite you, fingers brushing the edge of his espresso cup. For the first time in years, the man who made million-dollar decisions couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say.

“My mother spoke highly of you,” he said at last. “Though she failed to mention you’d be… this captivating.”