C20 New mistakes

SYDNEY

I’d had dates with billionaires, royalty, and celebrities.

But tonight wasn’t a date.

It was a test.

And Alaric Stallone was the only exam I had ever been nervous about failing.

---

I swept into the private dining room of the La Fiora restaurant like it was my runway. Every head turned. That’s the thing about being Sydney Stallone—people look, even when they don’t want to.

But the only gaze I cared about tonight was his.

Alaric was already there, seated at the far end of the table. Black suit, no tie, posture carved out of stone. He didn’t glance at me when I entered, didn’t rise like most men would. He just sat there—calm, immovable, infuriatingly unaffected.

God, I hated the effect that had on me.

---

“You’re late,” he said as I slid into the chair opposite him.

I smirked, crossing my legs slowly. “No. You’re just impatient.”

His gaze flickered—just for a second—to the line of my thigh before snapping back to my face. If I hadn’t been watching closely, I would’ve missed it.

Points for me.

“So,” I continued, picking up the wine menu, “this dinner is supposed to be about business. But since you’re my secretary now, I don’t see why I should bore myself with actual work.”

He arched a brow. “You intend to waste both our time, then?”

“Not waste,” I corrected smoothly. “Invest. In chemistry.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he buried it behind a sip of water.

---

The waiter brought champagne. I clinked my glass against his before he could protest. “To new beginnings,” I said.

His eyes locked with mine over the rim of his glass. “Or new mistakes.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Damn him. Even his warnings sounded sexy.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “You know, most men would’ve killed for this dinner. You’re the first one to act like you don’t want to be here.”

“Maybe,” he said coolly, “that’s why I’m here.”

I froze. My pulse jumped, heat licking at my cheeks. He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t even changed his tone—but somehow, those words cut deeper than all the flattery I’d been drowning in my entire life.

---

For the rest of the meal, I tried everything—light teasing, subtle touches, a smile that had landed me magazine covers. And yet, Alaric remained steady. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t bend.

But he also didn’t leave.

And when the waiter cleared the plates and I stood to leave, Alaric moved closer. So close that when he leaned down, his breath brushed my ear.

“You should stop trying to make me fall for you, Sydney.” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

My heart stuttered.

And instead of being scared, I smiled.

“Good,” I whispered back. “I love a challenge.”

---

On the ride home, Paige texted me a hundred times asking for updates, but I didn’t reply. My lips still tingled where his breath had grazed them.

He thought I’d give up. He thought his walls were enough.

But he didn’t understand—I’d already decided.

Alaric was going to be mine.

Even if I had to set fire to both of us to make it happen.