Cecilia thought it would be another cafe. Or perhaps a rented-out fancy restaurant with just the two of them, the staff cleared away, the ambiance carefully curated to maximize his control over the situation.
That was how Arzhen operated. Every environment was a stage, every detail orchestrated to remind her of his wealth, his power, his ability to shape the world to his whims.
But apparently, Arzhen brought her on a walk in the park.
The late afternoon sun hung low and golden in the summer sky, its rays filtering through the canopy of old oaks and maples that lined the winding gravel paths.
The air was warm but not oppressive, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant, sweet fragrance of honeysuckle blooming along the wrought-iron fences.
Children's laughter echoed from a playground somewhere beyond the treeline, bright and careless, punctuated by the rhythmic squeak of swings.
