He was already there when she arrived.That surprised her. In her experience, powerful men were always late. Lateness was its own kind of power, a way of saying your time matters more than mine without having to say it out loud. Marcus had been late to their first date, their wedding rehearsal, and the dinner where she had tried, one last time, to tell him she was unhappy. He had arrived thirty minutes after her that night, kissed her cheek, and ordered wine before she could finish her sentence.Dorian was sitting at the corner table with a glass of water and his phone face down when she walked in. He stood when he saw her. Not a performance. Just a man standing because a woman he wanted to see had walked through the door.“You came,” he said.“I said I would,” she replied, and sat down.The restaurant was not what she expected. She had braced herself for somewhere that announced wealth, somewhere with impossible lighting and portions so small they were basically abstract art. Instead
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