Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 : That Very Familiar Face.

~Dante Valentino

I walked into the bar as I walked into boardrooms and onto battlefields. Cold. Calculated. Unmoved. People looked up, hesitated, and moved aside. Those kind of reactions were normal to me. I had expected them. What I didn't expect was the face behind the bar.

My feet flattered for the briefest moment.

She was there, wiping a glass clean, pushing a strand of short hair behind her ear. And then she looked up. For a second, our eyes met.

I froze.

Her eyes. Those beautiful eyes.

The same color. The same storm.

No.

It couldn't be.

My chest tightened. She was unlike my woman. This waitress had short hair, no trace of the rich elegance that once wrapped around Aurora, my wife, like silk. But the similarity was too strong and compelling to ignore. It was as though Aurora had appeared to me just like she does in all of my dreams.

"Mr. Valentino," Marco was beside me, his voice shaky but polite. "Would you like your usual?"

I didn't even glance at him. I was still focused on her.

"I want her to serve me," I said again, my tone low.

"Sir?" he stuttered. "She's only the bar girl—"

"Her. No one else."

He nodded and hastily vanished, not wanting to anger me. Good for him.

The man next to me continued to speak, something about papers, contracts that needed my signature. I didn't hear a word. My head was reeling. He probably thought I was going to scold him, so he was sweating profusely.

I remembered a smile. A white wedding dress. Curls cascading down bare shoulders. The gentle way Aurora walked down the aisle to me—lovely, beautiful. She was all I ever wanted for myself. And then suddenly, lost. Torn from beside me hours later, on an evening that should have been our beginning.

I’d buried a coffin after years of searching for her, even if it was her dead body.

I buried my heart with it.

But now. here she was? No—someone looking like her. Someone with the same facial features. Someone with the feel she gave me.

I had to know.

In the VIP room, I waited, fingers locked tight together. The door opened and she came in. My breath hitched.

I ordered that everyone get out. No questions. Just silence.

When the door closed, she served me the drinks she brought.

Up close, the resemblance was almost unbearable.

Same voice. Same presence. I wanted to hold her and call her her name.

But not the same woman.

This woman looked like she’d crawled through fire and refused to burn. She wasn’t graceful like Aurora, but she was beautiful. She was raw.

“What’s your name?” I asked, praying to hear the name I hadn’t said aloud in years.

“Aurora,” I hoped.

“Eve,” she said.

I stared at her, every part of me screaming. No. That can’t be it.

But her voice—God, it was the same.

I reached down and carefully turned her chin up. Her eyes didn't flinch. Brave. Just like her.

She gazed at me, confused but serene.

I attempted to see past her, to search for lies, for truths, for answers. But all I saw was the persistent desire to know who she was.

If she wasn't Aurora, then why the hell did she feel like her?

"I want you to work for me," I said, resting back.

"What?" she blinked, caught of guard.

"I require a personal assistant," I lied. For a fact, I had a personal assistant, I just needed this Eve to stay by my side.

She gave me her inquiring glance—clever girl.

"I'm already employed here," she said.

"Well, not anymore."

I called for Marco through a specialized button connected to his office. He came running, a concerned look on his face. I told him of my intention and he spoke to her silently and desperately.

I remained silent. I didn't need to.

She hesitated, then nodded unwillingly.

As I stood up to leave the VIP room, Marco motioned for her to escort me out.

She followed behind me outside, her steps unsteady.

One of my men had opened the car door, and I settled into the backseat. She was left standing there, as if she had no idea what to do next.

I lowered the window and looked up at her, smirking just slightly.

“Not curious about what your job actually is?”

She didn’t answer.

Still overwhelmed. Good. That would make it easier to observe her without her suspecting anything.

"I'm not looking to exploit you, Eve. You'll be my personal assistant. I expect punctuality, composure, and discretion." I studied her from head to toe. "You'll need new clothes. Shoes. You'll be with me wherever I go."

She still remained silent.

“Get in,” I said.

She blinked. “Now?”

“Unless you want me to change my mind.”

That got her moving.

She sat stiffly as the driver pulled away. I could feel her curiosity simmering.

“First rule of working with me: you represent me. That means no worn-out jeans, no scuffed shoes, and definitely no jackets with missing buttons.”

She glanced at me and rolled her eyes. She must have thought I didn't see it.

I wasn’t.

“We’re going to get you new clothes,” I said. “Now.”

She turned toward the window. “Right.”

The boutique was high-end—too much for her world, but just right for mine. The staff rushed to greet me, eyes widening when they noticed the woman beside me.

“She needs a new wardrobe,” I said. “Something refined. Elegant. Fit for work. White dress.”

They nodded, scattering like nervous birds.

I sat on the leather couch, watching her get dragged to the fitting room.

I didn’t mean to ask for white. It just... slipped out.

But I knew exactly why.

Aurora wore white most of the time. It was her favorite color. It was the color I saw her wearing last.

When Eve stepped out in a silk, fitted dress with delicate straps and a faint slit on the side, time stopped.

She looked ethereal. Timeless.

She looked like her.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs.

She caught me staring. “You want me to wear this kind of thing... for work?”

My lips quirked slightly. “That’s one of the options. Try another.”

She disappeared again. And another dress followed. Then another.

Each one was like peeling back the layers of time and memory. I wasn’t just testing her style. I was testing fate. Testing myself.

What if she really was her?

No. That was insane.

And yet...

Thirty minutes later, she was holding bags she didn’t ask for. Paid in full. No return policy.

She glanced at me as we got back into the car. “Do you always do things this fast?”

“I don’t have time to waste.”

We sat in silence as the city rolled by. I stole glances at her from the corner of my eye—at the way she hugged the dress bags like armor. At the way she looked everywhere except at me.

She wasn’t Aurora.

She couldn’t be.

But I wanted her to be.

God, I wanted it so badly, it scared me.

The driver pulled into her street—an old place with old buildings and rusted gates.

She paused as the car stopped. “This is it.”

I nodded.

She didn’t say thank you. Just opened the door, stepped out, and walked away.

I watched until she disappeared into the building.

“Take me home” I told the driver.

As we drove off, I leaned back in my seat, my heart pounding for the first time in years.

Who the hell was she?

Was this just some strange twist of fate?

I pulled out my phone.

“Get me everything on the girl named Eve who works at Marco’s bar,” I said coldly.

I remembered something. "Ah, fire my personal assistant. I've hired someone else."

I ended the call, but my thoughts didn’t stop.

If she was really who I thought she might be...

Then nothing would ever be the same again.