Chapter 48

Dinner that night was at Ultraviolet by Paul Pairet, one of Shanghai's most exclusive and surreal dining experiences.

It wasn't just a restaurant—it was an avant-garde performance disguised as a meal.

The entrance was unmarked, hidden in a nondescript alley, and they were driven there in a private van with tinted windows. No signage, no crowd, just the illusion of secrecy and exclusivity. Once inside, they were guided to a single table in a darkened room that slowly transformed as lights, scents, sounds, and visuals changed with each course.

Cassian raised a brow when he saw the reservation card. "Wen doesn't do anything halfway, does he?"

Sienna smoothed the fabric of her dress and adjusted her earrings, her eyes sparkling. "He said it was a gesture of goodwill. A peace offering. Maybe even an apology."

Cassian gave her a side glance. "Apology for what exactly?"

She laughed, clearly amused by his jealousy. "You know what."

Then the host appeared and handed Sienna a sleek, black envelope. Inside, a small velvet box.

Cassian stiffened immediately.

She opened it to reveal a diamond bracelet—delicate, brilliant, and way too expensive for casual business courtesy.

Tucked underneath was a silver-foiled card:

"In China, we gift jade for protection. But you don't strike me as someone who needs guarding. So I picked diamonds—fierce and impossible to dull."

Cassian's jaw clenched. "Oh, he's really trying my patience now."

Sienna giggled and placed a hand on his forearm. "Cass, don't."

"Return it," he gritted out.

She kissed him on the cheek. "You know I can't. Refusing a gift like this could be seen as an insult. It's not just a trinket—it's symbolic."

"Is it his culture," Cassian muttered, "or just him marking territory?"

"Maybe both," she shrugged. "But I'm not wearing it. That's my line."

Cassian sighed, shoulders dropping just enough. "Alright. Let's eat before I make a scene."

And what a meal it was.

The dishes arrived in waves, each more theatrical than the last.

First came the "Wasabi Langoustine" with green apple air and snow pea tendrils. The wasabi hit harder than expected, and Sienna yelped while Cassian winced.

"You okay?" he asked, half-laughing, handing her a napkin.

"Am I crying or dead?" she muttered. "I can't tell."

He grinned. "Definitely dead."

Next was the "Foie Gras Canopy", hanging delicately from a sugar twig.

Cassian stared at it like it might take flight. "Why does it look like it belongs in a snow globe?"

"Just eat it, you barbarian. You've been ruined by too many steaks," she said, cutting hers with surgical precision.

They both moaned in delight after the first bite, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

Then came more art than food—culinary sculptures that looked too pretty to touch.

Wine flowed. Music shifted. The room breathed with them.

Cassian's tension melted bit by bit. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was Sienna's laughter echoing against the high-concept walls.

They didn't talk about Wen. They didn't talk about deadlines.

They just... talked.

About their semester in Beijing. The food carts. How he tried to barter with three words of Mandarin and a calculator. How she dragged him from one hidden noodle shop to the next.

"Remember the dumpling shop by the university gate?" Cassian asked, swirling his wine.

Sienna laughed immediately. "The one that gave me food poisoning?"

"It had the best chili oil!" he defended, grinning.

"I missed the Great Wall trip because of you."

"Hey! I brought you noodles and stood guard," he said, mock-offended.

She giggled at him. "Guard my ass! You were snoring too loud." Her smile softened at him. "And that's when I realized you weren't just an arrogant know-it-all."

"And I realized you weren't just a scary note-taking machine," he shot back. "You were terrifying when you roasted that professor over syntax."

"He said women couldn't master classical grammar. What was I supposed to do—nod and smile?"

He raised a glass. "Terrifying. In the best way."

She smiled, eyes shimmering. "We were such nerds."

"Well, don't lump me in. That's your category," he teased.

She chuckled and kicked him lightly under the table.

Cassian quieted then. The room had dimmed into warm gold. Her profile glowed in the light, and something softened in his gaze.

He reached out, slower this time, and took her hand. No teasing. Just warmth.

"Thank you, Sienna... for obsessing over my hands."

She blinked. "What?"

His smile deepened. "If you hadn't licked it and made it your personal sex toy, we wouldn't be here today."

She blushed hard. "Stoooop," she whined, laughing and swatting at his arm.

He laughed with her as he caught her other hand. Now both of hers were wrapped in his. His thumbs brushed gentle circles.

"I love you."

She stilled.

The words dropped between them—soft, sure, unshakable.

Her eyes welled up instantly. She bit her lip, voice caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

"I love you too," she whispered.

No dramatic kiss. No fireworks.

Just two hands, locked tightly, and two hearts that had wandered for years before finally finding home.

And for once—no meetings, no contracts, no billion-dollar pressure—it was just them.

And it was everything.