Chapter 11 Dinner With a Stranger
Olive slowed her steps without realizing it.
Her eyes moved around the room.
That was when she noticed something that made her stomach drop.
There were no other customers.
No couples. No quiet conversations. No clinking of glasses.
The entire restaurant was empty.
Just him.
And her.
Dexter had left already.
Her heart began to thump hard against her chest.
At that exact moment, the man lifted his head.
His eyes met hers.
The world around Olive seemed to disappear.
The soft lights. The wide windows. The city far below.
Everything faded.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
Something inside her stilled.
The man suddenly stood.
Olive flinched when he spoke.
“Please,” he said calmly, pulling out the chair across from him and gesturing toward it. “Have a seat.”
For a moment, Olive just stared at him.
She had seen handsome men before—but something about him made her feel small. Careful.
Then she moved.
Her steps were slow, measured. Her heart was beating so hard she felt it in her ears. When she finally sat down, her hands rested stiffly on her lap.
The man returned to his seat with the same calm control, moving as if he owned the place.
Almost immediately, staff appeared.
They moved quietly, smoothly, like they had practiced this many times before. One by one, they placed dishes on the table.
Olive’s eyes widened.
Plates kept coming.
Bowls. Trays. Small dishes arranged perfectly, each one looking expensive and carefully prepared.
There was food everywhere.
Too much food.
Enough to feed ten people.
She could only stare.
Then the man spoke again.
“I didn’t know what you wanted,” he said evenly. “So I ordered everything on the menu.”
Olive froze.
The words sank in slowly.
Everything.
Only then did she truly understand.
The rumors weren’t exaggerated. The ones she had heard at the hospital.
This man wasn’t just rich.
He was big time.
Olive tried not to speak.
She kept her eyes on the table, on the food laid out in front of her, telling herself that this didn’t have to mean anything. She was invited to eat—so she would eat. After that, she would leave. Go home. Forget this ever happened.
That was the plan.
She picked up her spoon with steady hands and took a small bite. The food tasted rich, carefully prepared, nothing like what she usually ate. Still, she barely noticed the flavor. Her thoughts were too loud.
They ate in silence.
The kind of silence that felt heavy, pressing down on her chest.
Then the man spoke.
“Did you receive the rose I sent you?”
Olive froze.
Her spoon slipped from her fingers and hit the plate with a soft clink. The sound echoed louder than it should have. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her breath caught.
“Y-you…” she stammered. “You sent it? The rose? And the card?”
He nodded, his expression calm, almost gentle.
“Yes,” he said. “I wanted to send you a bouquet, actually. But I didn’t want people at the hospital talking about you. So I started with just one rose.”
Olive felt dizzy.
So it was him.
The rose. The card. The words she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Her gaze dropped back to the table, but her mind was already spinning.
I think I want to marry you already.
Her fingers curled slightly against her lap.
She didn’t know what to say.
For a moment, the man watched her quietly. Then he spoke again, his voice steady, serious.
“The reason I invited you to dinner,” he said, “is because I want to introduce myself properly.”
He stood up.
The movement alone made Olive tense.
“My name is Leonardo Vescari,” he said clearly. “And I want to court you Olive Navarro.”
He extended his hand toward her.
Olive’s heart thundered so loudly she felt it in her throat. Fear rushed in first. Then confusion. Then disbelief. Everything collided at once, leaving her unable to think straight.
Her chair scraped softly against the floor as she stood as well.
Slowly. Carefully.
She looked at his hand. Then at his face.
Still calm. Still confident.
Still waiting.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out.
And without fully understanding why— without knowing what this would lead to—
Olive placed her hand in Leonardo’s.
When Olive let go of Leonardo’s hand, reality crashed into her all at once.
The man standing in front of her—the same man she had found bleeding on a forest-side road, the same man who had vanished from the hospital without leaving a name, a number, or even a goodbye—was now here, standing tall and composed, telling her he wanted to court her.
Her.
A nurse. A stranger. Someone who had only done her job.
Leonardo smiled, calm and sure, as if this moment had already been decided long before she arrived.
“Then it’s settled,” he said gently. “Today is the official day I start courting you.”