Isadora’s expression changed immediately.
“No.” “I haven’t finished.” “You don’t need to.” Valen raised an eyebrow.
“You refused before.” “And I’m refusing again.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk.
“You were looking for a way to afford your rent.” “I was.” “I offered you a room.” “I know.” “Then what’s the problem?” Isadora opened her mouth, ready with an answer, but nothing came out.
Valen waited patiently, watching her struggle to find one.
She finally sighed.
“I don’t want to live with you.” “Why?” “Because you’re weird.” Valen stared at her.
“I’m weird?” “Yes.” She started counting on her fingers.
“You have a gun, you get shot at, you refuse to go to hospitals, you disappear for a week, you barely speak, and you look at people like you’re deciding whether to kill them.” Valen remained silent for a moment.
“And yet you’re still here.” “Because your bodyguards practically kidnapped me!” “They asked nicely.” “That’s not the point!” A quiet sigh escaped him.
For a man who had faced rival Mafia families, assassins, and armed enemies without blinking, dealing with one stubborn medical student was somehow proving far more exhausting than expected.
“Then what do you want, Isadora?” She blinked.
“What?” “You needed a solution for your rent.
I gave you one.” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers.
“You don’t want it, so tell me.
What exactly do you want?” Isadora stared at him.
For once, she had no immediate answer.
Valen waited a few seconds before adding, “And you can’t say it’s because I’m a stranger and you don’t trust me.” “I can.” One of his eyebrows lifted.
“You’re the one who brought a complete stranger into your home without asking a single question,” he said calmly.
“So the ‘you’re a stranger’ excuse doesn’t really work.” Isadora opened her mouth, then closed it again.
He had a point.
Unfortunately, she still wasn’t changing her mind.
“I’m not moving in with you.” Valen let out another quiet sigh.
“I owe you my life.” She looked at him.
“I don’t like being indebted to anyone,” he continued.
“And I don’t particularly enjoy feeling grateful either.
This is simply my way of paying my debt.” Isadora hesitated, but only for a moment before shaking her head.
“No.” Valen stared at her.
“No?” “No.” “You really enjoy refusing me.” “I’m starting to.” He ignored the comment.
“If you don’t want to live with me, I can find you an apartment in one of the most luxurious neighborhoods in the city.” Isadora’s eyes widened.
“That’s even worse.” “Why?” “That’s way too much.” “It’s an apartment.” “A luxury apartment!” “Yes.” “Exactly!” Valen frowned slightly as she crossed her arms.
“My parents taught me never to accept certain kinds of gifts, especially from strangers.” For a moment, Valen said nothing.
Then he leaned back.
“So you’d rather struggle with your rent than accept help.” “Yes.” “Stubborn.” “Careful.” “What?” “You’re starting to sound like my father.” Valen’s expression remained unreadable.
“Then your father must be reasonable.” Isadora rolled her eyes.
“Don’t push your luck.” He studied her for a few seconds, apparently realizing there was little chance of changing her mind today.
“Fine.” Isadora raised an eyebrow, surprised by how easily he’d surrendered.
“If you don’t want an apartment or a room in my house…” He paused, as though considering another option.
“Let me at least take you to dinner.” She blinked.
“Dinner?” “Yes.
At a restaurant.” A smile immediately spread across her face.
“Now that’s a good offer.” Valen looked at her, almost suspiciously.
“Really?” “Absolutely.
Especially since I’m off today.” She checked the time on her phone before looking back at him.
“Eight?” “Eight.” “Perfect.” At exactly eight that evening, a black car pulled up in front of Isadora’s building.
She had expected one of Valen’s bodyguards to step out.
Instead, Valen opened the door himself.
Alone.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his dark hair slightly pushed back, making him look as though he’d walked straight out of a magazine.
Isadora stared at him for a second.
“You came yourself?” “Yes.” “No guards?” “No.” She looked around suspiciously.
“Are you sure you’re the real Valen Da Costa?” He gave her a flat look.
“Get in the car.” She laughed.
“Okay, okay.” The restaurant turned out to be nothing like any place Isadora had ever been to.
She slowed as soon as they stepped inside, taking in the warm golden lights, polished dark marble floors, and enormous chandeliers hanging above them.
The tables were spaced far enough apart to give every guest privacy, each one covered in crisp white linen.
Even the glasses looked too delicate for her to touch.
A pianist played softly in the corner.
Isadora looked around in disbelief.
“Valen…” “What?” “I think I’m underdressed.” “You’re fine.” She glanced down at herself.
“I’m wearing a dress I bought on sale.” “It looks fine.” “You don’t understand.
This place probably costs more than my entire tuition.” Valen said nothing.
Isadora narrowed her eyes at him.
“You come here often, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Of course you do.” They were shown to their table, and the moment they sat down, Isadora began talking again.
She commented on the restaurant, the menu, the prices, the pianist, and the fact that she was probably going to spend the entire evening trying not to look at how much anything cost.
Valen listened without interrupting, occasionally answering with little more than a word.
“Yes.” “No.” “Probably.” “I know.” Eventually, Isadora noticed the pattern and stopped herself.
Valen looked up from his glass.
For the first time since they’d sat down, there was complete silence between them.
He waited a moment.
“Finally.” Isadora frowned.
“What?” “It stopped.” She stared at him.
“What stopped?” “The talking.” Her mouth fell open.
“Wow.” Valen calmly took a sip of his drink.
“I was starting to think you needed oxygen just to keep talking.” Isadora gasped before laughing.
“You’re actually funny.” “I wasn’t joking.” She laughed even harder, shaking her head.
For a little while, the conversation remained light.
It was almost easy to forget who Valen was—or, more accurately, who he hadn’t told her he was.
Then Isadora’s smile slowly faded.
She looked at him across the table.
“Honestly, Valen…” He met her eyes.
“Why did someone try to kill you?” The question changed the atmosphere between them.
Valen’s expression hardened, the amusement disappearing as quickly as it had come.
“They tried to assassinate me.” “That much I understood.” He leaned back slightly.
“There are people who want me dead.” Isadora studied his face, waiting.
“And because you were there that night,” he continued, “they may come after you too.” Her smile disappeared completely.
“They saw you with me.
That makes you a potential loose end.”