Then, almost as if he had realized something, he smiled, a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "It's a private restaurant and we can go there separately if you would prefer," he said, closing up the file. For a moment, I thought he might say more. Something daring, something to suggest that he did not only want to take me out to dinner. But he did not. Instead, he just nodded, his expression uncatchable, and turned back to the view outside the window again. It was then that I realized I had not said a word. And neither had I left. "Okay, you can take me out to dinner."

Chapter 1 Mr walde

Angela's POV They say I am too beautiful. That my mere presence is a temptation too great for any man to resist, and in some ways, I've found that it is true. When I step into a room, all eyes follow me whether they want to or not. Men, and sometimes women too, approach with that same look in their eyes. The bold ones, those without fear, tell me openly how they would do anything to make me theirs, like I am some kind of prize to be won.

The shy ones, the ones who cannot quite find their voice, stumble on words pleading for a chance, as if a chance with me is something they cannot quite fathom. But a chance at what? To possess me, to claim me, to own me. It is never anything new; it is just the way of the world for someone like me. But I never imagined that Mr. Walde would be one of those people. Mr. Walde is my father's best friend, a man whose name I have been used to for as long as I can remember, long before he became the governor of this city and my father, his ever loyal aide-de-camp. He's been some sort of a figure in my life, but always just that... a figure. A distant presence. But then he visited our home a few months ago, and like all the others, he could not help but sing my praises, commenting on my beauty, remarking how I managed to outshine the sun itself, even in my father's presence. He was just another man swept up by my looks, or so I thought. The first time we were alone together, truly alone, was not in the privacy of a six star hotel room or the solitude of a private restaurant or beach, no, it was in the middle of a crowded, bustling city hall, just after one of his meetings. The kind where my father was supposed to be present, but had been called away on some urgent business trip. It was on a Friday afternoon, that much I remember clearly, the kind when everyone was too busy to notice what was really happening under their noses. My father had asked me to bring a file to Mr. Walde, an important one he had left behind in his office at home before leaving, one that contained details about an ongoing project the governor had to approve. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just another one of those "father's errands" or so I thought. I walked into the large, glass-walled conference room where the meeting had just wrapped up. A handful of aides and city officials were still milling around, exchanging pleasantries, but the room was already losing the formality that had defined the hours before. It was then that I saw him, Mr. Walde, standing by the windows, his back to me as he looked out over the city, hands clasped behind him. His figure was strong, commanding, and as much as I wanted to keep my distance, something about him anchored my attention. I stepped into the room, trying to be unnoticed, but I could feel his eyes on me before I even said a word. "Angela." His voice was rich, smooth and deep. He turned slowly, his gaze settling on me in a way that made my heart skip. "I didn't expect you to be here. Is everything alright?" I held up the file as if it was a defense mechanism against his lack of expectation. "My father... he left this for you. He had to leave in a hurry." He flashed me a boyish grin even though he should be at least in his fifties. "Ah, yes, of course. I was expecting him." As he reached out for the file, his fingers brushed against mine, a brief, electric contact that made my body go limp. His hand lingered for a split second longer than necessary, and I swore I saw something flicker in his eyes, desire, just as I have come to see it in the eyes of many before him. "Thank you, Angela," he said, trying not to look so bedazzled. "It's a pleasure to see you." He dropped the file on the edge of the table as he flipped it open, pretending to study the contents. But I could see his attention was divided, half on the papers, half on me. I should have turned and left that minute. But the way Mr. Walde stood there, alone in the room with me, looking at me with a sort of intensity I could not quite place made it impossible to move. Impossible to even look away. "I would love to take you out for dinner," he said suddenly, breaking the silence between us. It was not a question. It was a statement. I did not answer right away. What could I say? That I was not interested? That I was not sure my father would like the idea of us going to dinner alone? Or that I am afraid of what people would say if we were seen together? What if I wake up and I am all over the morning headlines? The words caught in my throat. All I could do was stand there, heart racing, feeling the weight of his gaze as he awaited my reply. Then, almost as if he had realized something, he smiled, a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "It's a private restaurant and we can go there separately if you would prefer," he said, closing up the file. For a moment, I thought he might say more. Something daring, something to suggest that he did not only want to take me out to dinner. But he did not. Instead, he just nodded, his expression uncatchable, and turned back to the view outside the window again. It was then that I realized I had not said a word. And neither had I left. "Okay, you can take me out to dinner."

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