Olivia

The café he'd chosen was tucked down a narrow street, all marble counters and gleaming espresso machines. Alexander was waiting at a corner table, jacket off, sleeves rolled up.

"How were the meetings?" I asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Productive." He pushed a cappuccino toward me. "Ordered for you."

"Thanks." I took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. "This is amazing."

"Wait until you try the pasta tonight."

I laughed. ...