After paying for the dress — and completely ignoring the saleswoman who tried to congratulate him on "a great choice for your girlfriend" (which made Lina blush all the way to her scalp) — Adrian walked her out of the store.
He looked satisfied.
Calm.
Almost relaxed.
Lina, on the other hand, was in a pure state of emotional combustion.
The dress.
His look.
The "I won't guarantee anything."
How was she supposed to survive this?
They were already heading toward the mall exit when Adrian suddenly stopped.
Lina stopped too.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Are you hungry?" Adrian returned the question.
"A little…"
He nodded.
"Then let's have dinner."
"But… here?"
He frowned, offended.
"Of course not."
"Of course not?" Lina repeated.
"Lina, I don't take my fiancée to eat fast food."
Lina almost replied, "I like fast food," but… she didn't want to ruin the moment.
"And… where are we going?" she asked, trying not to seem nervous.
"To a quiet place. Private. Where no one can try to take photos."
Lina blinked.
"You thought of that?"
"I think of everything involving you," Adrian replied simply.
And just like that, she lost her breath again.
Adrian's car looked even more luxurious at night, with lights reflecting off the hood and the tinted windows.
He opened the door for her — with a naturalness that suggested he would always do this — and waited for Lina to settle in before closing it.
She felt… special.
Ridiculously special.
As he walked around to the other side to get in, Lina took a deep breath.
Breathe, Lina. Don't freak out. You're just going to dinner with a bossy, possessive, and irresistible CEO who calls you his fiancée… that's totally normal… right?
It was totally abnormal.
And that's exactly why her heart was about to explode.
The engine started silently, like everything involving Adrian.
"Where's the restaurant?" Lina asked.
"In another district." He glanced briefly at her. "The city center is too busy. Not safe."
"For me?"
"For us."
Her cheeks burned.
"We're an easy target in a crowd," Adrian added. "And you've already handled enough stress today."
Lina blinked slowly.
He… cared.
About her.
For real.
"You don't have to handle everything alone, Adrian."
He turned to her, serious enough to make her swallow hard.
"Yes, I do."
"But—"
"Lina," he interrupted firmly, "the world isn't kind to you. And I won't let it get worse while you're by my side."
She stayed silent.
He didn't notice how much that sentence hit her.
He didn't know that no one… ever… had said anything like that to her.
No one had tried to protect her.
No one had cared like that.
And there, inside the car, Lina realized something new:
Adrian wasn't just possessive.
He was protective.
And protection… was something she had never had.
When they arrived, Lina's eyes widened.
It wasn't a luxurious, Michelin-starred restaurant.
It was cozy, elegant, with low lights and spaced-out tables.
Intimate.
Safe.
Discreet.
Perfect.
Adrian got out first, walked around, and opened the door for her.
"Watch your step," he said, offering his hand.
She placed her hand in his.
And as always…
the touch felt like a gentle shock. A perfect fit.
He guided her to the entrance.
The maître recognized them immediately but said nothing — just gave a respectful bow and led them to a more secluded table, separated by a carved wooden divider.
Perfect for hiding the couple from curious eyes.
Adrian only sat down after Lina was settled.
He wasn't the type of man who did courtesies out of politeness.
He did it… because he wanted to.
And that affected her.
A lot.
The waiter brought menus and a bottle of water.
Lina opened the menu… and nearly fell off her chair.
"A-Adrian… this is way too expensive."
"Don't ask about the price," he replied calmly. "Just pick what you want."
"But—"
"Lina."
He looked at her.
"This is the first time we've gone out for dinner together. Don't ruin it by worrying about prices that don't matter to me."
Lina closed her mouth, obediently.
"Are you always like this?" she asked with a small smile.
"Like what?"
"Authoritative in everything."
He stared at her.
"Only when it's important."
"And… this is important?"
Adrian didn't look away.
"Extremely."
Her heart turned to jelly.
The order was placed.
And when the waiter left… silence fell.
But it wasn't uncomfortable.
It was intense.
Charged with something Lina preferred not to name yet.
Until Adrian said:
"I wanted to ask you something."
"What?"
"Why weren't you happy when I called you beautiful today?"
Lina choked on her own saliva.
"I-I was!"
"Not enough."
"What do you mean 'not enough'?" she demanded, indignant.
Adrian rested his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced.
"You looked away.
You shrank back.
You doubted me.
That means someone, at some point, convinced you that you don't deserve to be called beautiful."
Lina stayed silent.
The air grew heavy.
He was right.
On the first try.
She lowered her head.
"My… my family always said I was ordinary. That Bianca was the beautiful one. I never… never thought anyone would look at me that way."
Adrian took a deep breath.
"They were wrong."
She looked up.
"Very wrong," he repeated. "You're beautiful, Lina. I won't let you think otherwise."
Her chest tightened.
He was too direct.
Too firm.
Too sincere.
And that…
made her heart open.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But opening.
The waiter returned with the starters, and they began eating in silence.
Until Adrian said softly:
"I want today to be the first of many dinners."
Lina lifted her head, surprised.
"M-many?"
"Yes." — He touched her hand across the table. — "I enjoy being with you."
Lina froze.
Completely.
And Adrian continued, as if stating the obvious:
"And I plan to continue… every single day."
Her heart pounded so hard she thought the entire restaurant could hear it.
And there, at that softly lit table, Lina realized:
He wasn't joking.
He was taking everything seriously.
Including her.