The Divorced Wife And Her Billionaire

Aurora's neck snapped toward the bar.

The man Gus called "Boss" had a strikingly handsome face. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and his nose was high and straight.

He was looking down at a leather-bound ledger on the counter. The harsh overhead light caught the sharp angles of his profile. He radiated the heavy, dangerous charm of a fully grown man.

Aurora's pupils dilated. A locked door in her memory suddenly burst open.

It was Elian Morris. Her direct underclassman from the architecture program at Harvard.

At that exact second, Elian seemed to feel the weight of her stare. His head snapped up.

His dark eyes cut across the empty tables and locked onto Aurora in the shadowy corner with terrifying precision.

The air in the bistro seemed to freeze. The jazz music faded into white noise.

Deep in Elian's eyes, an undeniable flicker of shock sparked, followed instantly by a deep, hidden warmth. It was a complex swell of emotion, but he blinked, and a fraction of a second later, his expression was perfectly masked and smooth.

He closed the ledger. He walked toward her table, his long legs eating up the distance with a lazy, confident grace.

"Aurora? Is that you?" he asked, stopping at the edge of her table. His voice held the perfect, calculated amount of surprise.

Aurora stood up. A sudden wave of awkwardness washed over her. She forced a polite smile.

"Elian. It's been a long time. I had no idea you owned this place," she said, trying to hide her nerves behind small talk.

Elian pulled out the chair across from her and sat down without asking. He leaned back, completely relaxed. "Just a little side investment. What about you? Why the suitcase?"

His sharp eyes dropped to the floor, scanning the battered luggage hidden under the table. A dark, dangerous flash of possessive anger flared in his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.

Aurora's stomach twisted with embarrassment. She instinctively kicked the suitcase further back into the shadows.

"I'm just... in between apartments. Stopped by for lunch," she lied. She couldn't bear to let the brilliant underclassman see her as a discarded, penniless housewife.

Elian didn't call out her lie. He simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers at Gus. "Comp this table. And bring out a slice of the signature tiramisu."

Aurora waved her hands quickly. "No, please. I can pay for it. You don't have to do that."

Elian let out a low chuckle. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The physical distance between them vanished, replaced by a thick, suffocating tension.

"Come on, Aurora," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "You weren't this polite when you used to save me a seat in the library."

The familiar teasing melted some of the ice in Aurora's chest. They fell into an easy rhythm, talking about their old professors and late nights in the studio.

Suddenly, Gus walked up with the dessert plate. He looked at Elian's suit and frowned.

"Boss, Mr. Davenport's assistant just called again to rush us," Gus interrupted nervously. "They said the venue for your engagement party tonight is completely set up. You really need to go change."

The spoon in Aurora's hand hit the ceramic plate with a sharp clink. She stared at Elian. "You're getting engaged today?"

The warmth in Elian's eyes vanished instantly. He shot Gus a look so cold and lethal that the manager physically recoiled.

Gus realized he had screwed up. He dropped the plate on the table and practically ran back to the kitchen.

When Elian turned back to Aurora, his face was soft again. He let out a bitter, helpless sigh.

"It's just a corporate merger arranged by the family. Going through the motions," he said dismissively. His dark eyes locked onto her face, tracking every micro-expression.

Aurora looked at the diamond cufflinks glittering on his wrists. A massive, invisible wall crashed down between them. He was a billionaire heir stepping into a dynasty. She was a broke, divorced woman with a suitcase. The distance between them was suddenly astronomical.