The revolving restaurant atop the skyscraper.
What was supposed to be a dinner for three quickly changed the moment they sat down. Isabella Robinson cleared her throat, her expression turning apologetic after a phone call.
"An urgent matter came up at the company. My father needs me back to handle it." She grabbed her purse and stood, winking at Sophia Sullivan. "Mr. Sullivan, Sophia, enjoy your meal. It's on me."
As she left, her steps were light, the hem of her dress swaying happily. Sophia's phone buzzed immediately, a new message flashing on the screen: "This is as far as I can help you. Good luck!"
Sophia sighed and tucked her phone away. There was no explaining this misunderstanding now.
Only Ethan Sullivan and Sophia remained at the table, facing each other. The glow of the crystal chandelier spilled across the white tablecloth, deepening the contours of Ethan's sharp features.
"Do you have any preferences, Ms. Sullivan?" He flipped open the gilded menu, his cufflinks glinting coldly under the light.
"I'm not picky." Sophia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze drifting to the window. The city lights stretched like a river of stars, the distant river reflecting neon hues.
The conversation naturally turned to Emma. Sophia traced the rim of her glass with a fingertip. "Has Emma been more stable lately? That child may seem quiet, but she cares deeply about you."
"She's settled now." Ethan's gaze flickered over her profile, gilded by the warm light. "I should thank you for reminding the butler to look after her."
His voice was low, rough like gravel. "The medicine you gave me has also been effective. My headaches have lessened."
"It was nothing." Sophia turned to him with a smile, her earrings catching the light. "This dinner is thanks enough, Mr. Sullivan. No need to dwell on it."
She noticed the thoughtfulness in Ethan's choice of seating. Three hundred meters above the ground, the noise of the city faded away. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sunset melted into the darkening sky.
"Perfume-making techniques." Ethan spoke suddenly, his fingers absently tracing the stem of his wineglass. "My grandmother's secret methods. I'd like to teach them to you as thanks."
Sophia took a sip of water. As the warmth slid down her throat, she caught Ethan's reflection in the glass—his eyes fixed on her.
"Then I’ll thank you in advance, Mr. Sullivan." Her smile curved her eyes, though ripples of unease stirred within her. The art of perfumery was precious, but compared to the truth the elder Mrs. Sullivan held, it was merely a drop in the ocean.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of sound. The first firework exploded across the night sky, golden sparks scattering like shattered diamonds.
"Ms. Sullivan." Ethan's voice pulled her back.
When she turned, she met his fathomless gaze. Fireworks bloomed in his dark pupils, and something electric coursed through her veins.
Countless lights painted fleeting poetry across the heavens. Sophia exhaled softly, watching the kaleidoscope of colors. "It's beautiful."
Ethan's eyes drifted from her fluttering lashes to the curve of her lips, lingering for only a heartbeat before pulling away. His throat moved as he spoke, his voice blending with the fading echoes of the fireworks.
"Yes. Beautiful."