Elena’s POV

The rain had followed me all the way across the city.

By the time I stepped into the restaurant, the hem of my coat was damp and my hair clung slightly to my temples. Warm air wrapped around me as the glass doors closed behind me, carrying the faint scent of coffee and buttered bread.

I checked my phone again.

Table 27.

A man was already sitting there.

He had his back to me, one arm resting casually on the table while the other lifted a porcelain cup. Even from behind, there ...