Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!

The midday sun hung high over Calivernia, painting the streets in a golden glow as Darren's Aston Martin One-77 glided to a stop outside La Villette, a chic bistro tucked between glass-fronted boutiques.

Its ivy-draped patio and soft jazz spilling from open windows promised a respite from the morning's startup grind.

Darren stepped out, his charcoal suit catching the light, tie still loose from earlier. He glanced at Amelia, who hesitated in the passenger seat, her dark hair framing a face caught between surprise and nerves.

"Coming?" he called, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "I promised you a nice lunch if you impressed me. NeuraNest was a solid find, so here we are."

Amelia's hazel eyes widened, and she fumbled with her notebook, stepping out in her navy blazer and skirt, heels clicking uncertainly. "I… I didn't think you meant today, sir," she said, her voice soft, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "And I didn't think you meant La Villette."

Darren shrugged playfully. "What's wrong with La Villette?"

Her lips wriggled. "It's fancy. Almost makes it seem like..." Her cheeks turned red again. "Like this is a date."

Darren frowned. "Isn't it?"

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

...

...

"You're very cruel when you tease someone like that, do you know?" She downturned her lips in a babyish manner that rivaled her usual classy, extremely formal character.

Darren laughed. "I apologize again for making you nervous, Amy. But hey, fancy's the point, and besides, you've earned it."

She smiled in acceptance and followed him to the door.

The nickname slipped out, light and teasing, and as they entered the restaurant, it was all Amelia could think about. Her blush deepened, and her gaze dropped to the polished floor.

The hostess led them to a corner table by a window, where sunlight danced on crystal glassware and white linens. Darren settled into his chair, all easy confidence, while Amelia perched opposite, her notebook tucked away but her fingers still twitching like they missed it.

"Do you take that everywhere?" Darren asked.

Amelia looked at the book. Then at him. "Most of the time."

A waiter arrived and poured sparkling Bordeaux. Darren noticed the wine, smiling to himself at the irony.

When the waiter left, he raised his glass, his blue eyes locking on Amelia's. "To hidden gems," he said, his tone warm but with a playful edge. "And to you not passing out from nerves before we order."

She laughed — a small, genuine sound that broke her stiffness. "I'm not that nervous," she said, though her hands betrayed her, smoothing her napkin twice. "It's just… I'm not used to this. Lunch with the boss, I mean. At Moon Wealth, it was all cubicles and coffee runs. I was not treated like this, and I don't know... the way you acted all serious when I came to your house with Rachel and Sandy, I thought you'd be stricter."

Darren leaned back, studying her. "I can be stricter if that's what you want."

"No no." She shook her head and hands. "I don't want that at all. I like you like this."

Darren raised a brow. "Oh, you like me now?"

Her face reddened. "That's not —"

"Don't worry about it," Darren chuckled. "Anders knew what he had, but he didn't cherish it because he had no fear that he would ever lose it. You've got an eye for what's next and NeuraNest's proof."

He took a sip of his wine. "So, tell me, what's Amelia's story? Not the resume version. The real one."

Her lips parted, caught off guard, and she sipped her wine to stall. "It's not that exciting," she said, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Grew up in a small town— Lodi, middle of nowhere. My mom raised me alone, worked two jobs at diners like the one we were at earlier. She'd bring home leftover pie, and we'd pretend it was a feast."

Her voice softened, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. "She taught me to notice things. Things like people, patterns. Said it'd get me somewhere better than pouring coffee."

Darren's gaze softened, a rare crack in his usual sharpness. "Sounds like she was right. Lodi to Calivernia's a hell of a jump."

Amelia shrugged, her smile bittersweet. "Took every scholarship I could get to study finance. And I became even more successful in that than I ever thought. Ryan Anders hired me almost immediately and well…" She faltered, her fingers tightening on her glass.

"You know the rest of it."

Darren's brow arched, catching the weight behind her words. "And how's your mom?"

Amelia smiled, somehow touched that he had asked about her. "She's fine. I actually bought her a small house in the quieter, residential parts of the state."

"Look at that," Darren praised her. "Good for you."

She beamed at him. "Thank you."

The waiter arrived, breaking the moment, and they ordered — grilled salmon for Darren, a pear and gorgonzola salad for Amelia, her choice hesitant, like she wasn't used to picking for herself.

As the plates arrived, she relaxed, her shyness easing into small gestures: a laugh when Darren mocked his own coffee addiction, a shy brush of her fingers against his when passing the salt.

Each touch sparked a flicker in her eyes, a mix of awe and curiosity for the man across from her, whose confidence seemed to pull her out of her shell.

"You know," she said, poking at her salad, "when Rachel poached me, I thought I'd crash and burn here. Then at your house. I know I've mentioned it before but... oh hell. You're young and yet you were so… intimidating, sir. Not mean, just… big. Like you see everything."

Darren chuckled, cutting his salmon. "Eh, I'm not trying to be intimidating, Amy. I'll tell you that." He paused, his fork hovering. "You're not crashing. You're flying. Don't know how many times I've said it but NeuraNest could be huge, and that's on you."

Her cheeks glowed, and she looked down, twirling a forkful of greens. "Thank you, sir."

She laughed nervously, brushing her hair back again, her fingers trembling slightly. "You're so..."

Darren waited with a lifted brow. "So what?"

Amelia shook her head, chortling nervously. "I don't know you're just really not what I expected."

"Good," he said almost blankly. "Expect the unexpected with me. Keeps life interesting." He leaned closer, then the playfulness returned. "Like picking a salad when you clearly wanted the steak."

She gasped, laughing, her hand flying to her mouth. "I did not!"

"Come on! Salad? Really? Any one who picks salad is just being performative."

"I'm not—" She gave up, lips pouting. "Okay, maybe a little." Her giggle was unguarded, and for a second, she looked younger, lighter, the weight of Anders' shadow lifting. Their eyes locked, and the jazz in the background seemed to fade, the space between them shrinking until her breath caught, her lips parting slightly.

Ding!

┏This person feels profound romantic attraction towards you.┛

The waiter's approach snapped them back, offering dessert menus, and Amelia ducked her head, her blush fierce now. Darren waved off the menus, ordering a single crème brûlée to share—a tease, not a demand, his grin daring her to protest. She didn't, just smiled shyly, her fingers brushing his again when the dish arrived, the crack of the caramel topping a small, shared victory.

"So what's next after this?" Amelia asked with great difficulty.

Darren looked at her, eyes not fully open. "We return to the Complex, and then go about our separate duties."

Amelia appeared disappointed, her eyes lowering slightly.

But Darren had more. "Then we do this again tomorrow when they submit their demo."

"Oh." She lit up with hope again.

"Can't wait," Darren said, watching her. "Can you?"

Her eyes locked with his, glistening in its hazel beauty as a smile spread on her face. "Me neither," she answered.