By the time the heavy gears of the corporate day finally ground to a halt, the city had undergone its nightly metamorphosis. New York had softened into a velvet canvas of glowing windows and humming streets, the air thick with the scent of impending rain and expensive possibilities.
Aryan stepped out from the obsidian arches of the Umbrella entrance, the automatic doors sliding shut with a hush behind him. His silhouette was sharp against the wash of streetlights. Waiting by the curb, illuminated by the soft glow of the valet stand, were Sharon and Wanda. They looked like two distinct types of trouble.
Sharon's gaze traveled slowly, from his polished shoes to the open collar of his dress shirt, a shimmer of approval in her eyes that she didn't bother to hide. "Good. You cleaned up."
Aryan adjusted his coat. "I was already clean, Sharon."
Wanda stepped closer, the floral scent of her perfume momentarily eclipsing the city's metallic tang of exhaust and ozone. She smiled, an expression that reached her eyes. "She means you look… less like a corporate threat. More like a man who might actually know how to break a rule."
Sharon smirked, opening the rear door of the waiting car herself before the valet could reach it. "Exactly. Danger is better when it's dressed for dinner."
The ride to the restaurant was a study in high tension geometry. The city blurred past the tinted windows in a kaleidoscope of smeared neon and rain slicked asphalt, while the car's sound system played jazz inflected, heavy with bass and a rhythm that mimicked a heartbeat. Aryan sat between them, his presence a calm center of gravity.
Sharon sat with her legs crossed, the silk of her dress rustling softly. The occasional shift of the car as it navigated a turn caused her knee to graze his, a contact she didn't pull away from. Wanda, on his other side, watched the passing lights, her hand resting on the leather seat just inches from his own, the heat of her skin radiating across the small gap.
The restaurant was a cathedral of dark wood and soft amber light, perched high above the streets, overlooking a skyline that looked like a spilled box of jewels on black velvet. It was the kind of place where secrets were whispered over vintage vintages and never kept.
The host sat them at a booth in the back. Aryan looked around at the place, finally realizing they hadn't taken him somewhere terrible. "Okay, this is actually a decent spot. I was expecting some noisy place where we'd have to sit on stools and scream over the music just to talk."
Sharon laughed and set her bag down. "Told you. We actually wanted to enjoy our dinner too, you know."
Wanda looked at the menu and then back at him with a smirk. "Yeah, we knew if we told you where we were going, you'd find something to complain about before we even got here. So, are you actually going to relax, or are you going to spend the whole night wondering why there isn't a laptop on the table?"
Aryan laughed, leaning back in the seat. "I'm relaxing. Just make sure the food is actually good, or I'm picking the place next time."
The menus were ignored almost immediately. The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine. Aryan nodded his approval after the first taste, his eyes lingering on the way the candlelight caught the garnet liquid swirling in Sharon's glass.
"To surviving the week," Sharon said, lifting her glass and catching Aryan's eyes over the crystal rim.
"And to finding something worth staying awake for," Wanda added, her glass clicking against his with a musical ring.
As the meal progressed, the conversation drifted into ambiguous waters. The food was excellent but it was merely a backdrop for the theatre of the table. Sharon leaned in to catch his words, her elbow resting on the white tablecloth as she traced the rim of her glass with a rhythmic finger.
"So," Sharon murmured, her voice like silk dragged over stone. "Is this how you usually unwind? Or did we just happen to catch you when your guard was down?"
"My guard is never down," Aryan replied, his voice steady. "But I find that rare things are often the most… satisfying."
Wanda tilted her head, her red hair catching the amber light like a halo. "You're always so calm, Aryan. Like a predator who's already caught his prey and is just deciding what to do with it."
Sharon laughed softly, a low vibration in her throat. "That might be the most poetic way I've ever heard someone call a man a heartbreaker."
Aryan's smile was flickering at the corner of his mouth. "I'll take the compliment."
The air between the three of them was charged with a kind of static electricity. Sharon spoke of her days in the field, of the adrenaline and the risk, her eyes searching him as if looking for a shared spark of fire. Wanda spoke of the city, of the beautiful chaos of it, and the way it felt to finally find a place where she didn't have to check the exits every time she entered a room.
"You don't talk much about what you want, Aryan," Wanda said softly, leaning closer until her shoulder was pressing warmly against his. "You choose your words like they're precious stones."
"I don't like wasting them on things that don't matter," he replied.
"And do we matter?" Sharon asked, her voice a direct challenge. She didn't look away.
Aryan set his glass down, the silence stretching between the three of them. "You're both very… significant variables," he said, the term scientific but the delivery entirely intimate.
Sharon laughed, a genuine sound. "'A variable.' I've been called a lot of things, honey, but never a variable. You really are impossible."
Wanda reached out, her fingers grazing the back of his hand for a moment before she pulled back to lift her glass. "He's always been human, Sharon. He just hides it under that beautiful armor of responsibility."
Aryan met Wanda's gaze, a flash of something warm and deep passing between them. "Someone has to carry the weight," he said quietly. "But it's lighter when the company is good."
At one point, Sharon leaned back, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she watched the dynamic unfold. "You realize, of course, that if anyone from the office saw us right now, this looks suspiciously like a date. A very expensive date."
Wanda choked slightly on her wine, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. "Sharon. It's just dinner."
Aryan simply looked at Sharon, then at Wanda, his expression one of perfect composure. "Does it?"
Sharon's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Very much so. The air in here is practically humming, Aryan. Or is that just your internal servers overheating?"
"It's a good dinner," Aryan said, his voice a velvet rumble that seemed to vibrate in Wanda's chest. "And the company is… exceptional."