Chapter Three
Meridian Café is tuckedaway on a side street downtown, its understated façade giving zero hints about the elegant interior.I arrive at 6:58 PM, two minutes early—a personal record for someone perpetually racing into meetings with seconds to spare.
As I push through the heavy wooden door, the lighting is so dim I have to pause to let my eyes adjust.The place smells amazing, of coffee and something warm and spicy.When I finally spot Marcus in the corner booth, my stomach does a ridiculous flip.
In person, he’smore.Taller than I expected, broader through the shoulders, with a presence that somehow fills the space without effort.He rises as I approach, and the old-fashioned courtesy makes me smile.
He’s wearing a navy suit that looks tailored to his body—not flashy, but the kind of quality you can’t fake.No tie, top button undone, with a pocket square that suggests he actually cares how he presents himself.The overall effect is devastating.
“Sarah,” he says, extending his hand.“Thank you for coming.”
His handshake is warm and firm, and the brief skin contact sends a little zing up my arm that catches me off guard.
“Thanks for suggesting this place,” I say, sliding into the booth across from him.“I’ve lived here five years and never knew it existed.”
“One of the city’s better-kept secrets,” he says with a slight smile.“The owner values privacy, and they make the best espresso outside of Rome.”
As if on cue, a server appears with two tiny cups of something that smells heavenly.
“I took the liberty,” Marcus explains, noticing my raised eyebrow.“But please, if you’d prefer something else—”
“No, this is perfect,” I say, wrapping my hands around the small cup.The warmth steadies my slightly shaky fingers.I take a sip and have to stop myself from making an embarrassing sound of pleasure.“Oh, wow.That is good.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, and I realize he’s enjoying my reaction.“I’m glad you approve.”
“So,” I say, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile, “this is weird, right?Meeting like this?”
He laughs, a warm sound that makes me want to hear it again.“Unconventional, certainly.At least for you.I always do in-person meetings to just ensure we can get along.Does it feel weird to you?”
I consider this.“Actually, less weird than most of my first dates.At least we’ve already covered the awkward ‘what do you do’ small talk.”
“True.”He takes a sip of his espresso, and I find myself watching his hands—strong, capable, with neat nails and a simple watch that catches the atmospheric overhead light.“How was your day?”
The ordinariness of the question makes me smile.“Busy.Quarterly planning meetings that could have been emails.Yours?”
“Productive,” he says simply.
In the brief silence that follows, I study him properly.In profile, as he glances around the café, I notice the strong line of his jaw, the slight silver at his temples.He’s not magazine-handsome, but striking—the kind of face that gets more interesting the longer you look at it.
He turns back suddenly, catching me staring.Instead of looking away like a normal person, I hold his gaze, surprising myself with my boldness.
“You’re wondering if this was a mistake,” he says, not unkindly.
I start to deny it, then stop myself.“Part of me is, yeah.The rational, responsible part that says I should be home reviewing Q3 projections instead of having coffee with a professional dominant I met on a kinky dating app.”I laugh nervously.“When I say it out loud, it sounds crazy.”
