Dinner the next evening was set for a quiet, upscale restaurant tucked away in the corner of a private street. Evan had chosen it for the same reason he chose everything else—discreet, luxurious, and far removed from the public eye. No paparazzi, no distractions, no noise. Just the soft clink of glasses and the low murmur of voices around them. Isabelle arrived a few minutes early, her figure easily spotted across the room, her calm demeanor only adding to her allure.
Evan noticed the instant she walked through the door. There was no dramatic entrance, no noticeable shift in the air, but something about her presence, the way she held herself, commanded attention. It was subtle, but undeniable. She didn't belong in his world, and that was precisely what intrigued him.
He stood as she approached the table, and as she smiled, there was a flicker of warmth in her eyes that seemed almost... personal.
"Good evening," she greeted, her voice smooth as velvet, though laced with something more genuine than usual. Her gaze met his, and for a split second, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time—not the polished, professional consultant—but a woman with depth and layers.
"Evening," Evan replied, pulling out her chair. He didn't bother with the usual pleasantries, the forced small talk that often came with these types of meetings. There was no need. He simply gestured to the menu. "I trust the menu is to your liking?"
Isabelle raised an eyebrow in amusement, her lips curling into a smile. "You're not one for small talk, are you?"
Evan leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a small chuckle. "I prefer to get straight to the point."
She nodded, folding the menu in her hands. "That makes two of us."
A waiter arrived to take their orders, and as he left, the silence between them lingered for a moment. Evan couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between them since their last encounter. The usual walls he put up around himself—those carefully constructed barriers that kept people at a distance—seemed to be crumbling, bit by bit. And it wasn't because of her job or the fact that she had a sharp mind for business. No, it was something else entirely.
"Tell me something," Evan asked suddenly, leaning forward just enough for his voice to drop an octave. "What's your story, Isabelle?"
She looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no defensiveness in her gaze. "My story?"
"Yeah. Everyone has one. What made you want to get into this line of work? To deal with people like me all the time?"
Isabelle paused, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I suppose I could say it's because I'm good at it," she said after a beat, her tone light. "But that would be a bit cliché, wouldn't it?"
Evan tilted his head, intrigued by her response. "Go on."
She leaned back, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's not just about the money or the prestige for me. I grew up in a family that struggled to get by. Nothing extreme, but enough to make me realize that success doesn't just come from being in the right place at the right time. It's about the drive. The determination. I wanted to build something of my own, without relying on anyone else. And, of course, helping people who need it. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a romantic when it comes to business."
Evan chuckled under his breath, amused by her candor. "A romantic, huh?"
"Yeah," she said, her eyes meeting his again. "I think people forget the human side of business. They get so caught up in numbers, in profits, in transactions. But the real work happens when you make those connections with people, when you understand them. That's how you win."
Evan thought about her words for a long moment. It wasn't often he heard someone speak so plainly, especially someone with her level of intelligence and success. Most people in his world were focused on climbing, on achieving, on dominating. Isabelle, however, seemed to view it differently.
He leaned back in his chair, considering her. "And how do you suggest I make those connections? I've spent my entire life building walls. It's easier that way."
Isabelle's expression softened. "Maybe it's time to start tearing them down."
There was something in her voice—a sincerity that rang true, even though Evan wasn't sure he fully understood it. He was a man who had spent decades constructing his empire, building a fortress around himself. Yet, here was this woman, casually suggesting he start undoing everything he had worked for.
It was a jarring thought, one that rattled him in ways he hadn't expected.
Before he could say anything more, the waiter returned, and their conversation shifted back to the mundane details of the project at hand. But in the back of Evan's mind, Isabelle's words continued to echo.
As the evening wore on, they talked about business, about the merger, about strategies. But somewhere between the professional exchanges, something else had begun to form. A connection. Not of business, but of something deeper, something that made Evan question the choices he had made in his life.
When the night finally came to a close, Isabelle stood up, and Evan followed suit.
"Thank you for dinner," she said, her smile warm and genuine. "It was... different."
Evan nodded, his mind still preoccupied with their conversation. "Yeah, it was."
He walked her to the door of the restaurant, a lingering sense of unfamiliarity settling over him. The man who had been at the top of the world for so long, untouchable and invincible, suddenly felt... human.
And in that moment, Evan realized that something had shifted. He wasn't sure if it was the dinner, the conversation, or Isabelle herself, but the walls around him had started to crumble.