Kian's POV
Dinner smelled expensive.
That was the only way I could describe it.
It wasn't the kind of smell that made your mouth water when you walked through the front door after a long day.
It didn't smell like home cooking or comfort food.
Not good.
Not bad.
Just… expensive.
It was the kind of food that looked like art on a plate, arranged perfectly with small green herbs and tiny drops of sauce.
It looked like it belonged in a restaurant with white tablecloths and waiters who spoke in whispers, not on a dining table between two people who barely knew each other.
Evan sat at the head of the table like he belonged there more than the table belonged in the house.
Which was probably true.
He fit perfectly into the clean lines and high ceilings of this place.
He looked like he had been built specifically to sit in that high-backed chair, looking down at everything and everyone around him.
I sat opposite him, miles away at the other end of the long wooden table. The distance between us felt intentional, a physical reminder of where we stood.
The silence wasn't awkward for him. He cut his food with precise, quiet movements. His fork never scraped against the porcelain plate.
It was normal.
For me, it felt like sitting inside a locked room with someone who had the key and no intention of telling me where it was.
Every tick of the clock on the wall felt loud.
Every breath I took felt like it was filling up too much space.
I kept my eyes on my plate, trying to match his quietness, but the tension in my shoulders wouldn't go away.
"You're going to be searching for Aiden Frost," Evan said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence without warning. "You seem curious about who he is."
My eyes sharpened. I dropped my hands to the table, looking straight at him.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
He took a sip of water like we were discussing the weather. He didn't look guilty for reading my mind, or for tracking my thoughts.
He just set the glass down in the exact same spot he had taken it from.
"Aiden Frost is… dangerous," Evan continued, his voice dropping slightly. "Smart. Careful.
The kind of man who doesn't leave loose ends. If you go looking for him without knowing what you are doing, you will get hurt."
I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward just an inch. "And you know him how exactly?"
Evan smiled slightly, a quick, cold flash of teeth that didn't reach his eyes. "Research."
That wasn't an answer. It was a wall.
It was his way of telling me that the topic was closed, and that I didn't have the right to know any more than he wanted to share.
But I didn't push it.
Not yet. I knew when to hold back, and right now, I was in his house, eating his expensive food. I didn't have the leverage to demand answers.
A long pause settled over the room. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Then his voice shifted slightly.
Less business.
More… human.
"I found your parents are no more," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "What happened?"
The fork in my hand stopped mid-air.
My grip tightened around the silver handle until my knuckles turned white.
That wasn't something people said casually over dinner. That wasn't a topic you brought up to break the ice.
That was something people avoided. People usually stammered or looked away when they found out, changing the subject as fast as they could.
Evan just sat there, waiting for me to speak, his gaze heavy and unblinking.
I didn't look up at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the table, staring at a small knot in the wood.
"Car accident," I said flatly. I kept my voice empty, stripping away any emotion before it could show.
A pause.
"When I was seven."
The room went quieter, if that was even possible. The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on us.
Evan didn't interrupt. He didn't offer any fake sympathy or say he was sorry for my loss. He didn't react dramatically.
He just listened.
So I continued, the words coming out against my better judgment. "My grandmother raised me after that."
Another pause. I swallowed hard, forcing the final piece of truth out into the open room.
"She's the only family I have left."
Silence stretched between us. It wasn't the cold silence from before, but something different.
It was the weight of a story that had been carrying me for years, now sitting on the table between us.
Then Evan leaned back slightly in his chair.
"I see."
I expected nothing else from him. I expected him to nod, to tell me to finish my dinner, and to go back to talking about business or danger or Aiden Frost.
But then he said something unexpected.
"Then she's worth protecting properly."
I looked at him sharply, my eyes wide.
He wasn't smiling now. His face was completely serious, his dark eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made me want to look away, but I couldn't.
"Life doesn't give people many anchors, Kian," he said quietly, his voice softer than I had ever heard it before. "When you find one… you don't let it drift away. You do whatever it takes to keep it safe."
Something in my chest shifted slightly.
Not trust.
Not yet. I wasn't foolish enough to trust a man like him just because he said a few kind words.
But it was something less sharp than before. The edge of my anger seemed to dull, just a little bit.
For a second, he didn't look like a master playing a game. He just looked like someone who knew what it felt like to lose things.
"Don't get sentimental," I muttered, looking back down at my plate and picking up my fork again.
A faint smile returned to his face, the familiar, controlled look sliding back into place like a mask.
"I wasn't."
But for some reason, as I chewed the expensive, tasteless food, I didn't fully believe that.