Anastasia's morning started with chaos.
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this," she grumbled as Caroline tossed the black dress they chose at the mall at her.
"Correction, you agreed," Caroline quipped, applying a dramatic coat of lipstick in the mirror. "Besides, you're not just going on a date—you're sabotaging it for me."
Anastasia rolled her eyes but slipped into the sleek, slit dress anyway. It hugged her figure a little too well, the silky material pooling around her legs as she moved. Ugh. Caroline really had expensive taste.
"You sure about this?" Caroline asked hesitantly, chewing on her lip. "You don't have to go all out. Just be rude, make him hate me, and that's it."
Anastasia smirked. "Oh, sweetheart. You're talking to an expert."
She swiped Caroline's car keys off the table and winked. "I'll make sure he never wants to see you again."
Famous last words.
---
The restaurant was exquisite. A private dining space, dim lighting, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. Lavish.
Definitely not the kind of place a man who wanted a chill, easygoing date would pick.
Anastasia plopped into her chair, crossed her legs, and pulled out her phone. If she was supposed to be rude, she was going to do it properly.
She scrolled through social media, ignoring the quiet hum of soft jazz playing in the background. Time ticked by. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.
And then—footsteps.
Slow. Measured. Confident.
The energy shifted, sending an unexplainable chill down her spine. She still didn't look up.
The chair opposite hers slid back smoothly, the crisp rustle of a suit audible over the music.
"Ms. Dupont?"
The deep, familiar voice nearly made her drop her phone.
No. It's not possible.
Her grip tightened, but she kept her cool. Without looking up, she scoffed. "Took you long enough."
Silence.
Then, the quiet click of something being placed on the table.
A business card.
"Dante Alexander Montgomery."
Her heart stopped.
What happened to Theodore fucking Belmont!
Her body stiffened, and a wave of sheer panic washed over her.
Oh. Hell. No.
Not him.
Not the man she spent five years avoiding because of a relationship she never took serious.
Not the man who was supposed to be gone—out of her life, out of her mind, forever.
Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to move.
With painstaking slowness, she lifted her head.
And there he was.
Dante her Ex and now the youngest billionaire.
Sitting across from her. Watching her. Looking like he had all the time in the world.
Her lungs forgot how to work.
His suit—jet black, tailored to perfection. His jawline, sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes, dark, unreadable, but glinting with something dangerously close to amusement.
The years had only made him more good looking.
Her brain screamed at her to run.
Instead, she inhaled sharply and threw on the coldest, most unimpressed expression she could muster.
She flicked a glance at his business card, then back at him. "I don't remember asking."Her voice shook slightly .
His lips curled into a smirk. Oh, he was enjoying this.
"Still as rude as ever," he murmured. "Though I can't say I expected anything less."
Anastasia gripped her phone."You're late."
Dante cocked his head. "Funny. I was told my date was supposed to be Caroline Dupont."
Shit.
She ignored the suffocating tension and lifted a brow. "Surprise."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his smirk deepening. "Indeed. And what exactly are you doing here, Anastasia?"
The way he said her name—like he was tasting it, like he still remembered every syllable—sent a shiver down her spine.
Damn him.
She crossed her arms. "Enjoying a miserable date, apparently."
Dante chuckled, low and rich. "Ah. So that's the plan. You were going to make me hate you."
She tensed.
How the hell did he always see through her?
His eyes darkened, the amusement shifting into something far more unsettling. Far more dangerous.
"You can stop trying," he murmured. "I already do."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Anastasia swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze head-on. "Good. Then let's just wrap up since since it blew up". She was desperate to leave but didn't want to show it.
She could feel the contempt in his gaze , who wouldn't after a girl breaks up with him telling him she was never serious.
Dante chuckled again but didn't respond.
A waiter arrived, placing a menu in front of each of them. Anastasia opened hers and scanned it quickly.
The tension between them was thick, but she refused to acknowledge it.
Refused to let him win.
"Fine," she said, sighing dramatically. "Let's just get this over with."
Dante studied her for a long moment before leaning back in his chair, a lazy smirk still playing on his lips.
"Careful, Anastasia," he said smoothly. "You might just end up in something more worse "
Her body stiffened.
Dante simply smiled.
And just like that, his cold gaze held hers.