Aiden's POV
I leaned back in my chair, silently watching her as the meal progressed. Alexia moved with a natural poise that belied her unpolished exterior. Every cut of her knife, every lift of her fork—precise, deliberate. Not a single movement was wasted, her actions reflecting a level of refinement I hadn't expected.
She looked like a rich girl in a poor outfit, her hoodie and jeans doing nothing to diminish the quiet elegance she exuded. It wasn't just her confidence; it was the way she handled herself, as though she'd been born into this world of crystal glasses and polished silverware.
I'd expected her to fumble, to embarrass herself. That was part of the plan—seeing her struggle here would have justified my decision to send her to etiquette lessons before the public discovered her. She was going to be in the spotlight, accompanying me to official dinners and high-profile events. There was no room for missteps or amateur mistakes.
