(Yvette POV)
I was halfway through reviewing my plating notes when my phone buzzed.
The vibration was soft against the desk, but it pulled my attention instantly. I glanced at the screen and saw Brent's name.
For a second, my pulse stuttered—not because he was messaging, but because of everything that had shifted in the air lately.
I opened it.
Are you free tomorrow evening? There's a small place near Montmartre I've been wanting to show you. No pressure—just good food and a view.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
No pressure.
He had written that deliberately. I could feel it in the careful phrasing. Brent never wasted words. If something was different, it was intentional.
This wasn't a spontaneous drop-in with groceries.
This wasn't a study session disguised as companionship.
This was an invitation.
I leaned back in my chair slowly.
He wasn't standing beside me anymore.
He was stepping toward me.
