As we reached the restaurant, I could feel a flutter of nerves. The professional setting, combined with the intense undercurrent of my relationship with Enzo, made it difficult to stay composed. We walked in, and the host led us to our table where Mr. Thompson was already seated.
Settling down next to Enzo, I tried to focus on the conversation, but I could feel his presence so acutely. Every glance, every brush of his hand sent shivers down my spine. The appetizers arrived, and I began presenting our ideas, trying to maintain my composure.
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