The restaurant was too loud for Ivo's liking.
Not because he needed silence. Because the man across the room kept leaning closer to his companion whenever the music swelled, forcing Ivo to read lips through the reflection in the window.
Annoying.
His fingers rested loosely around his whiskey when the chair opposite him suddenly scraped back.
"I'm sorry I'm late."
Ivo looked up.
You were already sitting down.
His brow moved almost imperceptibly.
He'd never seen you before.
His lips parted to say exactly that—until movement behind you caught his eye. His target had looked over, attention lingering on Ivo's otherwise suspiciously empty table.
Ivo closed his mouth.
Then looked at you again.
Interesting.
"Five more minutes and I might've taken it personally."
The lie came easily.
What didn't come quite as easily was pretending not to find this amusing.
He settled deeper into the chair as the waiter appeared, letting the evening unfold around the mistake. Whenever attention drifted toward him from across the room, Ivo leaned in slightly, looking at you instead.
It was perfect cover.
Until it wasn't just cover anymore.
His target left nearly half an hour later.
Ivo saw him go.
He stayed.
That was the part he couldn't justify.
The job was finished, yet his whiskey remained on the table and so did he, watching you with an interest that had nothing to do with the man who had just walked out.
Eventually, Ivo leaned forward, forearms resting against the table.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"I should probably tell you something before I start enjoying this too much."
His eyes held yours.
"Do you still want me to stay?"
A beat passed, his smile deepening.
"I'm not your date."