She wasn’t breathing in a normal, controlled manner anymore. “Alesandro,” she gasped, somewhat incoherently. “Neon. I have to go.” And she forced herself to turn and walk away, feeling the heat of his gaze on her back.

As Annika’s Lyft driver—she figured she’d be drinking tonight and didn’t want to drive—pulled up to Neon, a flurry of butterflies swooped in her stomach at the memory of running into Hudson in the hallway. But she commanded them to get their shit together, got out of her Lyft, and looked at the bright, trendy exterior of the restaurant. It wasn’t surprising that the crowd waiting to get in spilled out onto the sidewalk, especially on a Friday night.

She pushed the door open with a renewed purpose, smoothed down her LBD, and scanned the crowded interior for anyone matching the one picture she’d seen. There were neon lights around the bar, outlining the floor that led down to the main seating area. Large metal sculptures hung from the ceiling, also highlighted with bright pink neon lights. The crowd was loud and hip—mostly young professionals who were gearing up for the weekend, and a few well-dressed couples in their twenties and thirties. Annika’s stomach rumbled as a waiter passed by her with a platter of grilled vegetables and bowls of soup, the savory smells flooding her senses.

“Hi.” A young waitress, her arms covered in tattoos of the Mad Hatter, approached Annika. “Looking for someone?”

“Yeah, I think the reservation’s under Alesandro Makos?”

“Your party’s already waiting. Follow me.”

Annika followed, feeling a spasm of nerves at having to sit through yet another first date that would probably be just as tiring as all the other ones before it. Why had she agreed to this after a long day at work? The brain-scrambling interlude with Hudson certainly hadn’t helped. She was suddenly afraid she’d forgotten to refresh her deodorant, but a quick sniff told her she was okay. Smiling, the waitress stepped out of the way and Annika saw the man from June’s cell phone photo.

He was dressed in a crisp pink button-down and dinner jacket, his long fingers drumming on the table. He looked around, checked his phone, and set it back down.

He was built long and lean, with a narrow face. He was tall, but his shoulders weren’t quite broad, and his arms were slender. He was completely unlike Hudson—at least, physically.

Annika frowned. Comparing Alesandro to Hudson was unproductive.

Releasing a breath, she walked forward and held out her hand. “Alesandro? I’m Annika.”

His hand was powder-smooth, his handshake firm. “Hi,” he said, smiling broadly to reveal a set of very straight white teeth. “So nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She took a seat, and the waitress handed her a menu.

“Can I start you off with some drinks?” the waitress asked, looking between them.