Chapter 6 - The Question No One Had Ever Asked Him
Three months passed.
Vincent stopped pretending.
He still came to Bellamy’s.
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes with security outside.
Everyone knew who he was now.
Mia still told him when he looked exhausted.
Still criticized his sleeping habits.
Still charged him for cake.
One evening, Vincent entered after midnight.
Bellamy’s had closed.
Mia was counting receipts.
She looked up.
“You're late.”
“I know.”
“You missed dinner.”
“I know.”
“Did you eat?”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Sit.”
“Mia—”
“Sit.”
Vincent obeyed.
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with pasta.
He looked at it.
“You made this?”
“Don't sound terrified.”
“I've never seen you cook.”
“I want to open a café.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“Eat.”
He did.
After several bites, Mia asked:
“Well?”
Vincent considered his answer carefully.
“Acceptable.”
She grabbed the plate.
He caught it.
“I’m joking.”
“You nearly lost dinner.”
Vincent smiled.
Then Mia noticed the smile disappear.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Vincent.”
He looked toward the dark windows.
“Today was my father's birthday.”
Mia waited.
“He died eleven years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He taught me everything about the business.”
“Was he like you?”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“Harder.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was.”
“Did he ever tell you he was proud of you?”
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
Mia nodded slowly.
“Did anyone?”
He didn't answer.
She sat across from him.
For once, there were no jokes.
No billionaire.
No waitress.
Just two people at an empty table.
“Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
He almost gave the automatic answer.
Fine.
Always fine.
Instead he looked at Mia.
“No.”
She didn't rush toward him.
Didn't offer a speech.
She simply stayed.
“Want to talk?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You always do that.”
“What?”
“Let me choose.”
Mia smiled slightly.
“Someone should.”
That broke something inside him—not dramatically, but quietly.
The constant need to control.
To anticipate.
To defend.
Vincent leaned back.
“I spent years building a life where nobody could tell me what to do.”
“Congratulations.”
“And somehow I ended up surrounded by people afraid to tell me anything.”
“That's less impressive.”
He laughed softly.
Then looked at her.
“You weren't afraid.”
“I was.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“When?”
“The night those cars arrived.”
“You didn't look afraid.”
“I was terrified.”
“Then why did you ask if I was okay?”
Mia shrugged.
“Because you looked more afraid than I was.”
Vincent stared.
She had seen it.
Even then.
Not fear of physical danger.
Fear that revealing his name would destroy the one honest relationship he had found.
Vincent reached across the table.
He didn't take her hand immediately.
He placed his palm upward between them.
An invitation.
Mia looked at it.
Then placed her hand in his.
Vincent's tattooed fingers closed gently around hers.
“I don't want to pretend anymore,” he said.
“Good.”
“I don't know what happens next.”
“Neither do I.”
“I’m not very good at this.”
“I noticed.”
Vincent smiled.
Mia squeezed his hand.
“You could ask me to dinner.”
Vincent stared at her.
“I've been having dinner with you for three months.”
“No. You've been eating while I work.”
“There's a difference?”
“A very expensive difference.”
He understood.
“Mia Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“Would you have dinner with me?”
She pretended to consider it.
Vincent narrowed his eyes.
“Careful.”
“Is that a mafia threat?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
“Because my answer is yes.”
---
Their first real date happened at Bellamy’s.
Vincent had suggested an expensive rooftop restaurant.
Mia refused.
“You own it.”
“So?”
“That's weird.”
He suggested Paris.
She laughed for nearly a minute.
Finally, Paul gave Mia the night off and reserved their corner table.
No spectacle.
No reporters.
No business associates.
Vincent wore a simple dark jacket.
Mia wore a blue dress.
After dinner, Vincent looked around.
“You realize this is exactly where we normally sit.”
“Yes.”
“And we're eating the same cake.”
“Yes.”
“This is your idea of a date?”
Mia smiled.
“You wanted to know whether somebody could like you without your money.”
“And?”
She leaned closer.
“Why would I let you use it to impress me now?”
Vincent laughed.
Then Mia reached across the table.
“You know what I like about you?”
“I assume there are several things.”
“Your humility isn't one.”
He smiled.
“Tell me.”
“The man who comes here.”
Vincent's expression softened.
Mia continued.
“Not Romano Holdings. Not whatever people whisper about your family. Not the billionaire.”
She squeezed his hand.
“The guy who watches the dessert menu and pretends he doesn't want cake.”
Vincent looked down at their hands.
“I think I can live with that.”
But there was still one thing he wanted to give Mia.
May you like
And he had finally figured out how to do it without buying her dream.
---
