The Emerald Heiress (Aurelia) novel Chapter 6

The restaurant hadn’t changed.

Same red-checkered tablecloths. Same dim lighting. Same scent of garlic and fresh basil heavy in the air. Even the old owner, Sal, was still there, shuffling between tables with a dish towel over his shoulder.

I arrived at 7:55.

Roman was already seated in the back corner — our old table.

He looked up the moment I walked in, as if he had sensed me before he saw me. Seven years had sharpened his features. The boyish edges were gone, replaced by a jaw that could cut glass and eyes so dark they swallowed the candlelight. His suit was charcoal, no tie, top button undone. Relaxed. Controlled.

Dangerous.

“You’re early,” he said.

“You said don’t be late.” I sat across from him. “I’m never late either.”

A ghost of a smile. “You’ve changed.”

“Everyone changes.”

“Not like this.” His gaze moved over my face slowly, deliberately, as if cataloging every difference. “The Aurelia I knew wouldn’t have bought a company just to punish a man.”

“The Aurelia you knew also wouldn’t have married one who deserved punishing.”

He leaned back, studying me. “Fair point.”

Sal appeared with a bottle of red wine — the same Barolo we used to order. He poured two glasses without asking, patted Roman on the shoulder, and disappeared.

I didn’t touch my glass. “Let’s skip the nostalgia. Why am I here?”

“Because you want to know why Vanessa Hale got into my car this morning.”

Direct. That was new. The Roman I remembered preferred to circle a topic like a hawk before diving.

“So you know I’m watching.”

“I know everything, Aurelia. I’ve known where you were for the past five years. I knew when you married Blackwell. I knew when he started cheating.” His voice didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes. “I knew when you filed the acquisition paperwork three months ago.”

Three months. He had known for three months.

“If you knew all of that,” I said carefully, “then why didn’t you—”

“Interfere?” He lifted his glass. “Because you didn’t want me to. You made that very clear when you vanished without a word seven years ago.”

The accusation landed like a blade between my ribs.

I held his gaze. “I had my reasons.”

“I’m sure you did.” He drank. Set the glass down. “But that’s not why we’re here tonight.”

“Then why?”

“Vanessa came to me this afternoon with a proposal. She wants me to help Derek Blackwell challenge the takeover. She claims the acquisition was done using insider information and that she has documents to prove it.”

My jaw tightened. “That’s a lie.”

“I know it’s a lie. The question is — who gave her the idea? Vanessa isn’t smart enough to fabricate a legal strategy on her own. Someone is coaching her.”

Roman watched me in silence, then spoke again. “Victor Hale’s bid is set to go through in seventy-two hours. If he succeeds, he won’t just take Blackwell Industries. He’ll use it as leverage to go after Ashford Capital’s commercial real estate portfolio.”

My portfolio. My father’s legacy.

I set the glass down hard enough to rattle the silverware.

“Then I have seventy-two hours to destroy him.”

Roman’s lips curved — not quite a smile, but close. “You’ll need help.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“You don’t need it,” he agreed. “But you’d be a fool to refuse it.”

We stared at each other across the table, the candlelight flickering between us.

Seven years of silence. Seven years of questions neither of us had asked.

And now, sitting across from the only man who had ever truly known me, I realized something terrifying.

I didn’t just need his help.

I needed him.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.