chapter 1

The crisp white tablecloth felt alien beneath Vanessa's fingertips. The dimly lit restaurant buzzed with hushed conversations and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of wealth and sophistication. Dressed to impress in a dress that flowed like midnight silk, Vanessa felt a flicker of self-doubt. Carolyn's text, an impulsive invitation to a "girls' night out," had landed with a thud earlier that day. But the sly glint in her best friend's eye and the cryptic "dress up, it'll be fun!" message had piqued Vanessa's curiosity.

Now, seated at a table meant for four, a single, flickering candle casting wavering shadows across the pristine white plates, Vanessa scanned the room. Disappointment gnawed at her. No sign of Carolyn or infectious laugh.

A waiter, his smile as polished as the silver serving tray he balanced, materialized beside her. "Can I get you something to drink, miss?" he inquired, his voice smooth as velvet.

Vanessa hesitated. "Actually," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "I'm waiting for someone. My friend, Carolyn."

The waiter's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he schooled it back into professional courtesy. "Of course, miss. Please let me know if you need anything while you wait."

He retreated, leaving Vanessa alone with her swirling thoughts. She thought of different scenarios that may have delayed Carolyn. She knew her friend was a punctual person but she is surprised by her lateness today. Had Carolyn forgotten? Was this some elaborate prank? A pang of annoyance mingled with the disappointment. An hour for a "girls' night out" was pushing it, even for Carolyn's brand of spontaneity.

She picked up her phone, the familiar weight a comfort in the unfamiliar setting. A part of her wanted to call Carolyn, to demand an explanation. But another part, a curious one, felt strangely compelled to stay. Maybe there was more to this evening than Carolyn had let on.

As minutes stretched into a quarter hour, Vanessa caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, was approaching the table, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. He held a single red rose, its velvety petals contrasting sharply with his dark suit.

Her heart skipped a beat. Could this be the surprise Carolyn mentioned? Vanessa straightened in her seat, a nervous flutter rising in her stomach. She doesn't want to get herself involved in any man since what has transpired between her and Emmy.

The man's smile widened as he reached the table, the red rose held out like a hesitant offering. "Vanessa? I presume? I'm Samuel, Carolyn's friend." His voice boomed, ill-suited to the hushed atmosphere of the restaurant.

So this was the surprised Carolyn planned for her. A blind date disguised as a girl's dinner. She thought as she was looking at the man.

Vanessa offered a tight smile, her initial surprise morphing into a low-grade irritation. Blind dates were one thing, but a blind date with a man whose voice could shatter crystal was another entirely.

The next hour unfolded in a blur of forced conversation and Samuel's endless anecdotes, each delivered with an enthusiasm that grated on Vanessa's nerves. She learned about his extensive sock collection (extensive!), his passion for competitive pigeon racing (bizarre!), and his unwavering belief in the healing power of polka music (unbearable!).

With each passing minute, Vanessa's smile became more strained, her polite nods less convincing. The image of Carolyn, cackling with delight at Vanessa's discomfort, flickered in her mind. Was this her best friend's idea of fun?

Finally, pushed to the edge by a particularly graphic description of Samuel's prize-winning pigeon, Vanessa rose from her seat. "Thank you for the evening, Samuel," she said, her voice laced with forced cheer, "but I think I'll call it a night."

Disappointment flooded Samuel's face, momentarily eclipsing his usual boisterousness. "Oh, of course! No worries at all. Maybe we can—"

He never finished the sentence. As Vanessa pivoted on her heel, her purse swinging wide, it collided with a passing waiter. A yelp escaped the man's lips as his tray went flying, a crystal flute filled with ruby red liquid arcing through the air.

Time seemed to slow down. The flute shattered against the wall behind a couple enjoying a quiet dinner, splattering the man's white shirt with a large stain. The woman with the man, her face contorted in fury, looked like she might erupt.

Vanessa's cheeks burned with a mixture of mortification and anger. This was a disaster of epic proportions. A girl's dinner gone wrong by turning into a blind date, a ruined outfit of an innocent couple. Now, the man is left looking like an extra in a horror movie.

Steeling her nerves, Vanessa offered a stammering apology, her voice barely audible above the stunned silence that had descended upon the restaurant.

"Oh my gosh, I am so incredibly sorry!" Vanessa stammered, panic rising in her chest. The glass clinked harmlessly on the table as the wine soaked through the man's shirt, leaving a dark stain spreading across his chest.

The woman, clearly fuming, fixed Vanessa with a withering stare. Vanessa felt a desperate urge to crawl under the table. But before she could apologize further, the man himself spoke.

A smile played on his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Easy there, don't worry about it," he said, his voice a smooth drawl. "Spills happen." He looked down at his now ruined shirt, then back at Vanessa with a glint of something more than just amusement. "Besides," he continued, leaning forward slightly, "a little excitement might be just the spice this date needs." The man said without showing regards for his date.

His date decide to join the conversation so her presence can be known as well. “This is a brand new Armani!" she hissed, her voice laced with a sharp disapproval that seemed directed more at Vanessa than her date.

Vanessa opened her mouth to apologize again, but the man cut her off again with a gentle, placating gesture. "It's alright, honey," he soothed, turning to his date with a reassuring smile.

“Your shirt can be cleaned immediately” Vanessa suggested since his date won't let it slide.

“That's fine” he said staring at Vanessa, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“By the way, I'm Darryl Peter“ the man said as they walked away from the table.

“I'm Vanessa” she replied, leaving no room for chitchat.

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a plush hallway bathed in a soft golden glow. Darryl Peter stepped out first, taking a moment to blatantly admire the way Vanessa's figure hugged her dress as she followed close behind. His internal monologue was a whirlwind of possibilities, each one ending with Vanessa succumbing to his playful advances.

Inside the room, the air hung heavy with the unspoken tension. Darryl wasted no time, shrugging off his damp shirt, revealing a toned torso he clearly took pride in maintaining. Vanessa, however, remained focused. She bypassed the seduction attempt entirely, instead heading straight for the phone on the nightstand.

With a practiced ease that spoke of a life well-managed, she dialed a crisp extension and spoke in a no-nonsense tone. "Laundry service, please. Yes, there's been a spill on a guest's shirt. Room..." A quick glance at the door confirmed the number, "...412. Yes, white linen, urgent cleaning preferred."

Darryl, watching her with a now slightly deflated ego, attempted a cocky grin. "Efficient, I like that in a woman."

Vanessa gave him a withering look that could curdle milk, One-word answers suffice. “Wouldn't you agree?" Her voice was polite, but the edge was unmistakable.

Darryl cleared his throat, the playful glint in his eyes fading. He hadn't anticipated this kind of woman. He was used to a more receptive audience, one that melted under his charm. Suddenly, the prospect of a quick conquest seemed less likely, replaced by a dawning sense of awkwardness that filled the silence between them.