Page 16 of The Valentine Agenda

"I thought you'd enjoy it." He smiled, reaching for his phone. "Would you mind if I...?"

He gestured toward the city lights behind her.

"You want to take my picture?" James Park wanted a picture of her?

Her heart did a little flip as he nodded. This wasn't just dinner then—he wanted to remember this moment. To capture it. Maybe he'd look at it later, think about this evening, about her...

"Oh! Of course." Hannah sat up straighter, trying to contain the warmth spreading through her chest. The city lights sparkled behind her like the hope bubbling up inside. She probably should have felt self-conscious, but James's attention made her feel almost beautiful. Special. Seen.

"Perfect," he said, typing something quickly before setting his phone aside. "You look lovely tonight."

Hannah touched her new dress self-consciously. "Thank you. I wasn't sure what to wear to a place like this."

His eyes caught on her necklace for a moment—just a flicker of attention before he turned to order wine—and Hannah resisted the urge to touch the small silver apple.

"You chose well." His eyes drifted past her briefly, scanning the restaurant before returning to her face. "Tell me about your day. How are your students?"

Her heart fluttered. He'd remembered she was a teacher. "They're wonderful. We worked on a Valentine's Day project, actually. Making cards for the senior residents in our building."

"Community service at eight years old?" James smiled. "That's... sweet."

Hannah noticed his attention shifting again, catching on something over her shoulder. James's expression changed, asubtle sharpening of his features that made him look less like her Valentine's date and more like the businessman she'd watched from afar for months.

"The children love it," Hannah continued, trying to recapture the moment. "Mrs. Chen says—"

"Would you excuse me?" James stood abruptly. "I need to make a quick call. Business never sleeps, unfortunately."

She watched him walk toward the bar, phone in hand. But his attention was on a couple seated at a prime table—a striking woman in a red dress and a man in an expensive suit. James positioned himself carefully, somehow managing to be perfectly visible to them while appearing casual. The woman glanced his way, then quickly looked away.

Something cold settled in Hannah's stomach.

When James returned, his smile was brighter but harder. "Sorry about that. Where were we? Ah yes, your students' project. Very admirable."

But he wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes kept drifting to the couple's table, his responses to her becoming more automated. Hannah found herself talking less, watching more. The way James angled himself to be seen. The way he laughed too loudly at her mild comments. The way he kept checking his phone.

The woman in red looked their way again, this time long enough for Hannah to recognize her from the building's lobby. Vanessa. James's ex-girlfriend.

The cold feeling inside her spread like frost across glass.

"Will you be drinking with your meal?" the sommelier appeared at their table.

"Yes," James said quickly. "A bottle of your most expensive champagne. We're celebrating... connection. Community. The simple things in life." His voice carried just slightly too far.

Hannah understood now—the strategic table placement, the performance of interest, the careful positioning. Taking her photo, she thought dully.

She'd spent hours shopping for the perfect outfit. Her new dress felt like a costume now, every careful choice a joke at her own expense. He'd made her into a punchline.

All those moments—him holding doors for elderly residents, his little kindnesses—had she imagined their significance? Had she built an entire fantasy around a man who was actually this cruel?

She thought of all the times she'd defended him to Sophie.He's just focused. He's driven. He has depth that others don't see.

But others had seen exactly who he was. Mrs. Chen with her cryptic warnings. Sophie with her direct ones. Even Vanessa, who'd left him, had seen it. Only Hannah, with her schoolgirl crush and desperate hopes, had been blind.

The sound of the champagne cork popping made her jump.

"Hannah?" James looked at her—really looked at her—and for a moment, something like discomfort crossed his beautiful face. "The champagne—"

All those morning greetings she'd practiced in her head, all those little stories she'd saved up to tell him one day—they crumbled like the fancy bread she hadn't touched.

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