The restaurant was called Ivory and Gold.

It sat on the upper floor of a glass-walled building in River North, overlooking the Chicago skyline. The interior was dim but deliberate, with warm amber lighting reflecting off polished marble floors and dark wood paneling.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city lights, while soft jazz drifted through the air, low enough to preserve the privacy of every conversation.

Tables were spaced generously, dressed in crisp white linen, each set with minimalist silverware and a single candle at the center. The staff moved quietly, catering to a clientele that valued discretion over noise.

Sofia was already seated.

She wore a fitted black midi dress that hugged her frame cleanly without excess, the neckline modest yet flattering.

A light beige coat rested neatly over the back of her chair. Her hair fell naturally over her shoulders in soft waves, parted slightly to one side.

Her makeup was subtle, just enough to sharpen her features and draw attention to her eyes. A simple gold necklace rested against her collarbone, paired with small matching earrings. She sat upright and composed, one hand resting lightly on the table while the other held her phone, though a faint frown marred her expression.

"Damain Hill..." she murmured as she scrolled through his public information online.

His face was too memorable to forget, so after their brief encounter earlier, she had begun wondering where she had seen him before.

It did not take much digging to uncover the truth. He was the lawyer all over the news, the one who had been shot after taking on Councilman Delaney’s case.

Realizing his connection to a case she was involved in, doubt began to creep into her mind. The coincidence felt too clean, too convenient.

Sofia began to suspect that Damain had hidden motives.

"If you keep frowning like that, you’ll ruin your perfect face, love."

Damain’s melodic voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her head up.

He stood before her, holding a massive bouquet of red roses that contrasted beautifully with his warm smile.

In that instant, her suspicion faltered.

Her anger dissolved as if it had never existed, replaced by a sudden, disorienting pull. All she wanted was to fall into his arms and feel that warmth again.

"I... I..." Sofia stammered.

"You look stunning," Damain interrupted smoothly, extending his hand toward her.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. Within seconds, she found herself placing her palm in his.

Damain held it gently, lowering his head and pressing his lips softly against her skin.

A sharp wave ran through her body, sudden and overwhelming. Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing as her thoughts scattered into nothing.

Her mind struggled to keep up with what she felt, unable to make sense of how something so simple could leave her so shaken.

Her train of thought shattered completely as the bouquet of roses filled her view.

Almost instinctively, she accepted it, her gaze never leaving Damain as he walked calmly to his seat and settled in.

He picked up the menu, flipping it open with casual ease before lifting his eyes to meet hers again.

"Have you ordered?" he asked.

Sofia could only shake her head slowly, her gaze still locked onto him, unable to pull away from the man who had just unraveled her composure without effort.

"No... No I haven’t." Sofia’s voice came out low, almost uncertain, but Damain caught every word.

He reached forward calmly and tapped the bell at the edge of the table before leaning back into his seat, one brow lifting slightly as his gaze settled on her.

"Is there a problem?" Damain asked directly.

He watched her closely as she opened her mouth to speak, only to retreat at the last moment, the words dying before they could form.

"It’s nothing..." she said, though her eyes lingered on him, searching his expression as if trying to uncover something just beneath the surface.

"Alright." Damain nodded calmly, but his mind was already racing.

From the way she hesitated, it was clear she had found his identity. He had expected it eventually, but not this quickly. His popularity had clearly grown to the point where a single glance was enough for recognition. By the time he won this case, he would stand no different from the country’s A-list figures.

At that moment, a female waiter approached the table and froze mid-step, her eyes locking onto Damain with poorly concealed desire.

Sofia, still lost in thought, slowly became aware of the presence beside their table. Her gaze shifted, and she immediately noticed the way the woman stared at Damain, like he was something to be consumed rather than served.

"W... what can I get you, sir?" the waitress stammered, her cheeks flushed red.

The irritation on Sofia’s face deepened.

Damain, however, paid it no mind. He placed his order without hesitation.

"I’ll have the A5 Japanese Wagyu steak, and a plate of Alaskan King Crab legs. For sides, truffle mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus with hollandaise. Oysters for the appetizer. And your most expensive champagne."

The waitress lingered for a moment longer than necessary, clearly reluctant to leave, but eventually forced herself to step away, restoring the privacy that had briefly been disrupted.

"You seem popular around girls," Sofia said, her tone edged with faint jealousy and annoyance.

Damain noticed it, but chose not to react.

"I guess you could say that," he replied with a casual shrug, as though it meant nothing.

Sofia frowned slightly, then hesitated before pushing forward.

"So, what do you do?" she asked, trying to sound light, though the question carried weight beneath it.

Damain caught the subtle tension in her voice and understood what she was doing. She was probing, testing whether he had approached her with intent. He decided to play along.

"I’m a junior partner at the Blacksheep firm," he said plainly.

Sofia’s eyes flickered with surprise, followed quickly by suspicion. She had not expected him to reveal that so easily, not with the kind of case he was currently handling, and certainly not given her own connection to it.

Was he pretending? Or did he truly know nothing about her?

Was this really just a coincidence?

"What about you?" Damain asked, his voice calm as ever.

The question snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Ooh... errm..." she stuttered, buying time as her mind raced.

Should she tell the truth or lie?

"Nothing too special. I’m just a civil servant."

The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them. It sounded weak, unconvincing.

Damain let out a quiet chuckle but did not press further. Her guarded response was obvious, and pushing would only close her off more.

Realizing she had nearly soured the mood, Sofia quickly shifted.

"Oh, now I recognize you. You’re the lawyer who got shot a few weeks ago after taking on that high-profile case." She tapped the table lightly, feigning sudden realization.

Damain nodded without hesitation.

"I see everyone remembers the guy who got shot. You wouldn’t believe how often I hear that."

Sofia blinked, caught off guard by his openness.

There was no attempt to deflect, no sign of concealment.

For a moment, doubt crept in.

Had she misjudged him?

Was their meeting truly nothing more than coincidence?