Little brother?

Alex stared at the messages, his stomach churning.

'What the hell happened between you two, Rivers?' he wondered, carefully typing responses that were neutral enough to not encourage but warm enough to not provoke:

Alex: Looking forward to dinner.

Alex: People change.

Alex: Sometimes we need a new perspective.

Jessica: I've missed you so much

Jessica: That restraining order broke my heart

Jessica: But I knew you didn't mean it

'Great,' Alex thought, grabbing his wallet and phone. 'Just great.'

The town car waited downstairs, its black paint gleaming under the streetlights. As they pulled away from the curb, his phone lit up again.

Jessica: Almost there! You better not stand me up again

Jessica: Remember last time? When you sent security instead of showing up?

Jessica: That wasn't very nice, Jason.

Jessica: But I forgave you. I'll always forgive you.

Alex loosened his tie slightly, feeling like it was getting harder to breathe.

The Little Venice appeared ahead - a converted brownstone with subtle signage and warm lighting spilling onto the cobblestones. Valet attendants in crisp uniforms stood ready at the entrance.

Alex took a deep breath as the town car slowed to a stop. His phone buzzed one final time:

Jessica: I can see your car

'No turning back now,' he thought, adjusting his tie one last time.

A valet opened his door with practiced efficiency. "Welcome to The Little Venice, Mr. Rivers," he said with a slight bow. "It's wonderful to see you again, sir."

Alex nodded, hoping Jason was the type to tip well as he handed over the keys. The cobblestones clicked beneath his Louboutins as he approached the entrance, where two doormen stood at attention.

"Good evening, Mr. Rivers," the older of the two greeted him, opening the heavy wooden door. "Your usual table has been prepared, but..." he hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice, "I should mention that Miss Montgomery arrived twenty minutes early. We seated her as per her... insistence."

There was something in the doorman's tone that made Alex's skin prickle. A warning, perhaps?

[Quest Update: Staff Behavior Indicates Previous Incidents]

The maître d', a distinguished-looking man in his fifties, intercepted Alex in the marble-floored foyer. "Mr. Rivers," he said smoothly, though Alex caught the slight tension around his eyes. "We're honored to have you back with us. Though I must say, we were... surprised by the reservation, given the previous..."

He trailed off diplomatically, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like smoke.

"Previous?" Alex prompted carefully.

The maître d' shifted uncomfortably. "The incident last March? With the wine and the... ah... fire department?"

Before Alex could process that concerning piece of information, a musical laugh floated through the air. Jessica had spotted him.

The maître d' straightened, professionalism sliding back into place. "Right this way, sir."

Alex followed him through the main dining room, taking in the spectacular interior. The restaurant was a masterpiece of renovation - modern luxury seamlessly integrated with historical architecture. Exposed brick walls housed intimate alcoves, each table lit by vintage Italian fixtures that cast warm pools of light across white tablecloths. The air was rich with the scent of truffles and aged wine, mingling with the subtle notes of history that clung to the centuries-old walls.

Small tables dotted the space, each one its own private world thanks to clever architectural design. Jazz played softly from hidden speakers, accompanied by the gentle clink of fine china and crystal, the murmur of intimate conversations.

And there, in perhaps the most private alcove, sat Jessica.

She rose as they approached, and Alex felt his breath catch. The red dress she wore was a masterpiece of engineering, managing to be both elegant and provocative. Her blonde hair caught the vintage lighting like spun gold, and her smile - God, that smile could launch a thousand ships or sink them, depending on her mood.

'Damn, Rivers,' he thought, 'what kind of soap opera did you get me into?'

"Jason," she breathed, stepping forward to embrace him. Her perfume enveloped him - something expensive and French that probably cost more than a car payment. Her arms wrapped around him with practiced familiarity, her body pressing against his in a way that was just this side of proper for a public setting.

"I've missed you," she whispered against his ear, her lips brushing his skin. "So, so much."

Alex suppressed a shiver as they separated, noting how every eye in their vicinity seemed to be carefully looking anywhere but at them. The maître d' pulled out Jessica's chair with practiced grace, then did the same for Alex.

"Your usual wine, sir?" he asked.

Before Alex could respond, Jessica laughed that musical laugh again. "Oh, we'll have the '82 Bordeaux. The same one from that night. Remember, Jason?"

The maître d' paled slightly but maintained his composure. "Of course, madam. I'll have it brought right away."

As he departed, Jessica reached across the table to grasp Alex's hand. Her fingers were cool against his skin, her green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. But there was something else in those eyes - something that reminded Alex of a cat watching a wounded bird.

"I'm so glad you survived the accident," she said softly, her thumb tracing circles on his palm. Her red lacquered nails caught the light like drops of blood. "When I heard about it... God, Jason. The thought of Tommy being the last Rivers standing..." She shuddered delicately. "That pathetic excuse for a brother of yours inheriting everything you built? I couldn't bear it."

Alex's blood ran cold. "Tommy?"

Jessica's smile widened, showing perfect white teeth. Her eyes, though - her eyes were anything but perfect as she leaned forward and whispered:

"It's funny, isn't it? How your little brother was the first one at the hospital that night? Before the news even broke? Almost like he... knew it was coming."