Tess sat at the corner table of the empty café, her legs curled beneath her on the cushioned chair. The te afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting long, golden rays across the floor. She rested her head against the cool gss; her phone held loosely in one hand as she stared at the screen.

  The page dispyed a collection of headlines and articles about the president. She had been searching all afternoon for any sign of who the woman was beyond her polished public persona. The rumours about her being engaged had been easy to find—whispers of alliances and political matchmaking, but what caught Tess’s attention most was the president’s firm statement, issued just weeks ago, dismissing the rumors.

  “I am not engaged, nor do I have any intentions of doing so at this time,” the article quoted. The accompanying image showed Adeline standing tall and confident at a podium, the kind of power radiating from her that Tess saw in person. And yet, beneath it, there was something else—a warmth, a vulnerability—that the photos couldn’t fully capture.

  She sighed, her fingers absently scrolling down as her thoughts drifted. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the memory of Adeline’s hand on her hips, the gentle weight of her palm on the small of her back. The way her voice softened, how her gaze seemed to strip away all the barriers she had carefully built around herself.

  Her cheeks flushed at the thought, her breath catching as she turned her head slightly to gnce out of the window. The street outside was quiet, the occasional passerby moving along without sparing a gnce at the small café. But Tess didn’t notice them; she was too lost in her own swirling emotions.

  Her fingertips tapped against the gss absentmindedly as she whispered to herself, “Maybe... just maybe.” She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her forehead against the cool pane. “But only if it’s a secret,” she added, her voice barely audible.

  The idea of being drawn into something with someone so powerful, so visible, was both thrilling and terrifying. Tess wasn’t na?ve. She knew the risks, the scrutiny, the consequences of a scandal, but for the first time in years, she felt a spark of something she couldn’t quite name.

  With a sigh, she turned back to her phone, the image of Adeline’s confident smile staring back at her as if daring her to make a choice.

  *

  The sleek bck car slowed to a stop in front of the café, its tires crunching softly against the gravel. Adeline stared out of the tinted window, her gaze fixed on the warm glow of light spilling from the small shop. Despite the long and grueling day of meetings, press conferences, and endless decision-making, her heart felt oddly light. The thought of seeing Tess again—her smile, her sharp wit, the way she looked at Adeline like she wasn’t the president but just another woman—made all the exhaustion fade into the background.

  She adjusted the cuff of her tailored bzer, her fingers brushing the soft fabric as she broke the silence in the car. “What do you think my chances are, Martin?” she asked softly, still gazing out the window.

  Martin, seated in the driver’s seat, gnced over at her. He could see the uncharacteristic vulnerability in her expression—the president of an entire country, caught up in the hopeful anticipation of a single moment. Sighing, he replied, “We only have today, Madam President. Tomorrow, it’s back home. Back to the grind.”

  Adeline’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers curling slightly in her p. She nodded slowly, her mind turning over his words. Time was always her greatest enemy, slipping away when she needed it most. She exhaled deeply, then reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment as if steadying herself.

  Martin watched her in the rearview mirror and added with a faint smile, “But if anyone can make an impression in a single day, it’s you.”

  That drew a small chuckle from Adeline, and she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the pavement. Straightening her shoulders, she smoothed the pel of her bzer and looked toward the café door. The soft hum of a bell as she pushed it open sent a familiar warmth through her.

  Adeline sat at a corner table, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the menu Vivienne had just pced before her. Unfortunately, tonight’s atmosphere was nothing like the quiet intimacy of the previous evening or the soft morning stillness. The café buzzed with energy, patrons filling tables and chairs, their chatter filling the space.

  Her sharp eyes scanned the room, noting how the atmosphere had shifted the moment she entered. People whispered, snuck gnces, and a few bold ones angled their phones for photos. She sighed, her role as president shadowing even this brief escape.

  Vivienne approached with a cheerful smile, seemingly unbothered by the sudden energy. “Good evening, Madam President. What can I get for you tonight?”

  Adeline smiled back faintly, leaning slightly closer to be heard over the noise. “Where is your boss? I don’t see her.”

  Vivienne’s smile widened knowingly. “Oh, Tess? She’s at a party tonight, Madam President. A friend’s birthday.”

  Adeline’s heart sank at the words. She hadn’t considered the possibility Tess might not be here. She covered her disappointment with a soft chuckle, picking up the menu and pretending to browse its contents. “I see,” she murmured, keeping her tone light. “I hope she’s enjoying herself.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she is,” Vivienne replied, clearly oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the president’s words. “Would you like the usual, or shall I surprise you this time?”

  Adeline gnced up, offering a polite smile. “Surprise me.”

  Vivienne nodded and left to pce the orders, while the café grew noisier with each passing moment. Word of the president’s presence had spread, and more people were trickling in, phones in hand, hoping to catch a glimpse—or a picture—of the head of state in such a casual setting.

  The secret service agents stationed near the door looked increasingly on edge. They murmured into their earpieces, casting wary gnces at the growing crowd. Adeline caught their discomfort and waved a hand subtly, signaling them to stay calm.

  She gnced toward the door, half-expecting Tess to walk in at any moment despite Vivienne’s words. But as minutes passed and the space around her buzzed with activity, she realised tonight wouldn’t be the reunion she had hoped for.

  Leaning back in her chair, Adeline sighed, her eyes drifting toward the empty spot behind the counter where Tess usually stood. Her disappointment lingered, but she forced herself to focus on the present.

  Martin sat at the table, sipping the st of his juice, his eyes scanning the bustling café. He had been on edge ever since they arrived, with the growing crowd and all the attention directed at the president. His thoughts were interrupted when something at the far end of the room caught his attention. Vivienne was waving at him, her arm raised slightly, as if trying to get his attention without drawing too much notice.

  He frowned and excused himself, walking across the room toward her. As he approached, she quickly stuffed something into his hand—a small piece of paper with a number written on it.

  “Miss Wells’ number,” she whispered, gncing around to ensure no one was watching. “I’m supposed to contact her when the president arrives, but with all the customers, I’m running out of time. Please do what you need.”

  Before Martin could ask anything, she had already turned and returned to her duties, her movements swift and efficient. He stood there for a moment, staring at the paper in his hand.

  He gnced up, his eyes immediately nding on the president, sitting at her table. Adeline appeared composed, her usual air of confidence present as she smiled and interacted with the customers around her. But he had been working with her long enough to know when something was off, and as he studied her expression, he noticed the subtle tension in her eyes. They weren’t smiling. No, they were distant, distracted.

  He exhaled slowly, tucking the paper into his pocket. The situation was growing more complicated by the minute, and he had to decide how to handle it without drawing attention.

  The president had her own demons to deal with, but this, whatever Vivienne had implied, could add yet another yer of difficulty.