Camilla's stomach growled, protesting its emptiness, just as the car slid into the lot of a cozy, high-end restaurant nestled along a quiet street. Through the tinted windows, the golden glow of evening lights spilled over glass windows and white marble flooring inside. A couple of suited waiters stood at the entrance with hands clasped behind their backs, the whole atmosphere exuding class and warmth.

“Come on,” Cyrus said, stepping out and holding the door for her.

Camilla climbed out of the car slowly, still mulling over the conversation they'd had in the car earlier. Cyrus’s teasing lingered like a warm touch on her skin. The kiss. The debt. The...