The warm, golden glow of La Baguette spilled onto the rain-slicked sidewalk, a welcoming beacon amid the chaos of Reese's day. Inside, the café hummed with life—a soft clinking of cutlery, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasted garlic wafted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of wine.

Reese sat in a corner booth; her elbow propped on the polished wood table as she traced the rim of her glass. The chardonnay gleamed under the dim light, untouched. Across from her, Naomi scanned the menu, her brow furrowed in mock concentration.

Naomi finally set the menu down with a soft thud and crossed her arms. "Alright," she said, her voice cutting through Reese's wandering thoughts. "You're officially brooding. What's going on?"

Reese blinked, startled, and forced a small smile. "Nothing. Just tired, I guess." She reached for her glass but didn't drink, her fingers playing with the stem. "How's the wedding planning going? I know your mom must be thrilled."

Naomi narrowed her eyes, not letting the diversion slide so easily. "She's over the moon, of course," she said lightly, leaning back against the booth, "but before we get into that are you going to tell me or do I have to ask?"

"Ask me about what?"

"Oh, come on Reese, you know exactly what I'm talking about," her tone was sharp. "Christian Grey. Did you know he was coming?" Her eyebrow raised with curiosity.

The name hit Reese like a jolt, but she masked her reaction with a quick sip of wine. "No," she said finally, setting the glass down. "I didn't."

"Naomi tilted her head, unconvinced. "Really? You didn't have any idea?"

"I mean I texted him last week about the villa," Reese admitted, her gaze dropping to the table. "But he didn't give me a real response."

Naomi's mouth fell open slightly. "Wait—you texted him? Why? I thought after the Melrose sale he sort of... vanished."

"Well he did. I haven't seen or heard from him since the night of the masquerade event but Victor and Vincent thought it might help to reach out to him to generate some more buzz," Reese explained. "They figured even if he wasn't interested, having him seen there could get people talking. So I reached out, sent him the details, and all he said back was, 'Hello.'" She huffed, swirling the wine in her glass. "Nothing about the villa, nothing even remotely relevant. So I assumed that was the end of it."

Naomi tilted her head, studying her. "That's odd. Why bother responding at all if he wasn't going to address the property?"

"Exactly," Reese said, her tone edged with frustration. "It felt like he was maybe wanting to say more but didn't. And then today, he just shows up out of nowhere."

Naomi frowned, leaning back in her chair. "Well did he say anything about the property while he was there?"

Reese hesitated, her thoughts flicking back to Christian's presence at the open house—the way he moved through the villa, casually commanding attention without saying much at all. "He made a few comments about the architecture," she lied. "But nothing definitive. Honestly, I have no idea if he's seriously interested or if he just came to... I don't know."

"To what?" Naomi probed with a light tone.

Reese exhaled sharply, giving a faint shrug. "I don't know."

Naomi studied her, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Well maybe he just wanted an excuse to see you."

Reese's cheeks burned. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, a little too sharply. "It's business, Naomi. That's it."

Naomi didn't look convinced. "If you say so." She leaned back, tapping a finger against her chin, "Do you think his visit will help with the listing?"

"Maybe," Reese conceded, though doubt laced her voice. "It's too early to tell. Even if the press picks this up, there's no guarantee it'll lead to a serious buyer."

Naomi nodded thoughtfully, chewing her lip as she considered this. "Would you consider doing another event? Something to really showcase the property?"

Reese opened her mouth to answer, but her words faltered as a memory seized her—Christian's lips leaving a trail of kisses from her neck to her naval, the way his eyes had burned into hers watching her reaction as wrapped his mouth around her center plunging his tongue between her folds. The heat between them left her breathless. Her cheeks flushed as she snapped back to the present, forcing herself to focus on Naomi.

"No," she said abruptly, shaking her head. "I don't think it's necessary, not yet at least."

Naomi studied her for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. "Alright. If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Reese said firmly, though the weight in her chest lingered. She took a long sip of her wine, hoping it would settle her nerves.

Sensing the tension, Naomi shifted the conversation to her wedding plans. She launched into a debate over floral arrangements, weighing the timeless elegance of roses against the rustic charm of wildflowers. Reese nodded along, offering polite comments when prompted, but her mind kept drifting back to Christian—his presence, the way he unsettled her in ways she couldn't quite explain.

The buzz of her phone on the table snapped her back to reality. She glanced down, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of two unread messages.

6:43 PM 3234933687: I want to see you.

6:43 PM Collin: Are we still on for tonight? Ready to finally put up that Christmas tree.

Her stomach twisted as she stared at the screen. Christian's message was simple, commanding, and utterly disruptive to the place she was at in her life now.

"You okay?" Naomi asked, her voice cutting through Reese's spiraling thoughts.

Reese quickly locked the phone, flipping it face down. "Yeah. Just a client."

Naomi didn't look convinced but let it slide. "Well, don't let me keep you if it's important. Wedding talk can wait."

"No, it's fine," Reese said, forcing a smile. "Your wedding plans are a welcome distraction."

Naomi grinned. "You say that now but wait until I start debating fonts for the invitations."

The rest of dinner passed in a blur. Reese tried to focus, but her thoughts kept circling back to Christian. By the time they parted ways outside the restaurant, the cool night air felt like a relief against her flushed skin.

The drive home was quiet, the city lights blurring as she gripped the steering wheel. Her phone sat on the passenger seat, Christian's message a silent challenge she couldn't ignore. At a red light, she reached for it, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Finally, she typed:

7:10 PM Reese: If you're genuinely interested in the property, I'm open to working together. I do not wish to discuss anything else.

She hit send before she could overthink it. As the message disappeared, a wave of tension rolled over her. Setting the phone back down, she focused on the road ahead, though her thoughts refused to quiet.