Laura’s mind returned to the day before—the way Ross had looked at her in the gallery, how close he’d leaned when making an observation about her work, and...
His sll.
Yes, that was it.
She rembered now how it had lingered—subtle yet intoxicating, warm with a hint of sothing she couldn’t na.
It had unnerved her at the ti, made her feel strangely aware of herself in his presence.
"He slls so good," she whispered to herself, almost as if saying it aloud made it more real.
It had bothered her then, because the scent didn’t just sll pleasant—it stirred sothing deeper.
Sothing she had never wanted to admit out loud.
Sothing that, even now, made her heart beat faster in the dark.
And though she told herself it had only been a dream, Laura couldn’t help but wonder—if just the mory of Ross’s scent could affect her like this, what would happen the next ti she saw him in person?
The week passed in a smooth but eventful rhythm, with Ross and Laura eting a couple more tis to finalize the details of their agreent.
Each eting had been professional but pleasant, with Ross maintaining that polished charm that made him so easy to talk to.
By Friday evening, the deal was officially sealed.
The contracts lay signed on the polished surface of Laura’s office desk, the ink still fresh.
All that remained now was for her to fulfill the order.
"Thank you for trusting , Mr. Oakley," Laura said, her smile radiant. "I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations for my work. But I should let you know—it’s going to take so ti. I’ll keep you updated by phone or email."
Her voice carried a mix of pride and excitent that she couldn’t quite hide.
This wasn’t just another commission—she had just closed a nine-hundred-million-dollar deal. It was, without question, the biggest sale of her life.
Before this, her highest had been ten million, an amount she once thought was extraordinary.
Compared to this, it seed almost modest.
Ross’s smile deepened, his gaze steady. "I know you will," he said confidently. Then, after a small pause, his tone shifted, warm yet slightly suggestive.
"Since this is a night worth celebrating, would you accompany for a drink?"
Laura hesitated for a fraction of a second.
The question was simple enough, but her mind instantly replayed her sister Lois’s warnings.
She wasn’t foolish—she knew there could be risk in blurring the lines between business and personal.
Still, sothing in Ross’s voice, in the way he carried himself, made it difficult to say no.
She decided she could manage it on her terms.
I won’t drink liquor, she told herself firmly. Just a harmless celebration, nothing more.
"Sure," Laura replied, her smile returning. "I’d be happy to."
Ross’s eyes seed to glimr with satisfaction as he stood, offering her his arm.
***
The two shared dinner in one of Paris’s most exclusive restaurants, the kind where the lighting was warm and low, the air carried the faint aroma of truffle and fine wine, and the waitstaff seed to glide rather than walk.
Their table sat near a large window overlooking the glittering Seine, the reflections of the city lights shimring in the water below.
Ross drank freely, savoring each glass of his expensive wine, while Laura kept to her sparkling water, the condensation on the glass beading against her fingertips.
She wasn’t about to lose her clarity tonight, no matter how relaxed the setting felt.
The conversation was easy, the kind that made the hours pass without notice.
At first, Ross was the one steering it, his questions precise and engaging.
"What inspired you to paint?"
"How do you find the motivation to keep going?"
"When was the last ti you took a vacation?"
Laura found herself smiling at how attentive he seed, how his gaze never wandered when she spoke.
His questions were more than polite conversation—they were probing in a way that made her feel both seen and understood.
As the evening wore on and the wine took its toll, Ross grew quieter.
The sharp focus in his eyes softened, and a more relaxed version of him began to erge.
That was when Laura decided to take the lead.
"Why do you have so many wives?" she asked with a teasing smile.
"Are you not content with just one?"
"Isn’t that kind of arrangent... chaotic?"
Ross chuckled at each question, the sound low and rich, and leaned back in his chair.
His answers were delivered with a mix of honesty and lighthearted humor, never once sounding defensive.
"Well, each of them brings sothing different into my life," he said with a faint smirk. "And no, it’s not chaotic—at least not in the way you’re imagining. The key is balance... and a little bit of diplomacy."
Laura laughed, shaking her head. "Sounds exhausting."
"Only if you let it be," Ross replied smoothly, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking another sip.
By the ti dessert arrived, Laura found herself surprised at how comfortable she felt.
She hadn’t forgotten her sister’s warnings, but in this mont, sitting across from Ross beneath the soft Parisian lights, he didn’t feel like the dangerous man she’d been told to beware of.
If anything, he seed... human.
The clock had just struck midnight when the two finally decided to call it a night.
The streets outside the restaurant were quieter now, the soft glow of Parisian streetlamps casting long pools of light on the cobblestones.
"Thanks, Miss Johnson. I had fun. I’ll wait for your updates. Good night," Ross said with a faint, lopsided smile.
His words carried the slow, heavy cadence of a man who had clearly been drinking, though not quite enough to lose control.
He turned and began walking toward the entrance of his hotel, his tall fra swaying slightly with each step.
There were monts when he seed on the verge of stumbling, only to catch himself at the last second and straighten as though nothing had happened.
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