Benjamin's POV
The weekend had arrived, and I felt relief that I could finally put yesterday's unexpected event behind me. I couldn't help but wonder why she had shown up at my doorstep without any prior notice. My thoughts wandered to the look on her face when she saw us, and it was clear that she was disappointed and hurt, much like how I had felt after her confession. It seemed she had finally experienced a taste of her own medicine.
As my phone chimed, I glanced at the screen to find a text message from Emily, and a chuckle escaped my lips.
While she had initially planned to meet me at our favorite cafe, I took the initiative and replied, suggesting we reschedule our meeting to take place at a clubhouse, Club Haven.
Just as I was about to set my phone aside, an incoming call disrupted me. To my surprise, it was a conference call featuring James and Daniel. I sat up on the bed and eagerly answered, exclaiming, "Danny! Jamie! What's going on, guys?" My voice rang with enthusiasm.
"It's the weekend, man!" They said in unison, their voices filled with anticipation and excitement.
"Got it, my friends. 6:30 pm at Club Haven, as usual," I confirmed, condensing the call's details. It was clear they were arranging a get-together for us plus it had unquestionably been a demanding week for me, and I was eagerly looking forward to relieving that stress at the clubhouse.
It's been weeks since we last saw each other. They had been engrossed in their pursuits, while I, on the other hand, had been occupied with managing my winery company and dealing with my mother's persistent pleas for me to court or get married.
After we exchanged our goodbyes and ended the call, I sprawled back onto the bed, extending my arms wide in excitement and relief.
Promptly, I rose from bed and made my way to my dressing room. My stylist, Philip, had taken a weekend trip to visit his family, leaving me to make my own clothing choices for the night's clubbing event.
As I entered the spacious dressing room, the soft ambient lighting illuminated racks on racks of meticulously organized attire. That room had always been a testament to Philip's attention to detail and impeccable sense of style. Rows of tailored suits, designer shirts, and an array of footwear options lined the walls.
I stood before the full-length mirror, contemplating my options. My fingers glided across the fabrics, feeling the luxurious textures. That night seemed like a special one, a night that would have Emily think "This is what I lost" and I needed the perfect ensemble to reflect my mood. I started with the basics, selecting a crisp white dress shirt that would serve as the canvas for the rest of my outfit.
Next, I turned my attention to the suits. My fingers brushed over the rich, midnight blue fabric of one particular suit. It was a custom-tailored masterpiece, perfectly complementing the vibrant nightlife of the city. I imagined how it would accentuate my silhouette as I moved on the dance floor.
Choosing the accessories was a meticulous process. I deliberated over a selection of silk ties, each one a piece of art in itself. Finally, I settled on a deep burgundy tie that would add a touch of sophistication to the ensemble.
My choice of footwear was equally important. I scanned the array of shoes, from classic leather loafers to contemporary leather sneakers. After careful consideration, I opted for the sleek black leather shoes that would provide both style and comfort for a long night of dancing.
I stood back to assess my choices. The combination of the tailored suit, crisp white shirt, and perfectly knotted tie had exuded confidence and sophistication. With a satisfied nod, I knew that even in Philip's absence, I had assembled an outfit that would make a statement at the club.
Moving on, I made my way to the bathroom, appreciating the familiar scent of my preferred air purifier in the air. The utilitarian design of the space greeted me with its efficiency. There, I quickly took a refreshing shower, letting the warm water rejuvenate me. Afterward, I stepped out, toweling off briskly, and then applied a minimal amount of my preferred cologne.
I returned to the dressing room, still feeling the residual warmth from the shower. Without fuss, I pulled on the custom-tailored midnight blue suit, and the crisp white dress shirt, and effortlessly knotted the deep burgundy tie. Lastly, I slipped into the sleek black leather shoes, ensuring both style and comfort for the night ahead.
Satisfied with my attire, I stepped out, ready to have the best time of my life once again at the club.
I arrived at the club an hour in advance due to my planned meeting with Emily. Immediately, I made my way to the VIP room, where soft music played in the background. The room was sparsely populated, consisting of individuals from a singular echelon—those of considerable wealth.
As I spotted Emily in the corner of the room, I made my way over to her table, my footsteps confident and purposeful. On the way, I waved to the bartender and gave him a nod, signaling for my usual drink: a dry martini, shaken, not stirred. Within moments, he delivered the martini and I took a sip, the familiar taste bringing a sense of comfort. With a drink in hand, I approached Emily's table, ready to confront her.
"I've been waiting, Ben," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of anticipation.
"Why did you ask to see me?" I inquired, my tone dismissive as I chose to disregard her earlier statement.
Her face changed, her expression shifting from anticipation to a more serious demeanor.
"Who was she? Did you move on already?" she asked, her curiosity evident in her voice.
Emily's question took me aback, and for a moment, I hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of her silly question.
"You don't expect me to answer that, do you?" I replied, my voice carrying a mix of mockery.
"I miss you, Ben. I'm sorry about what happened," she said, her voice carrying a tone of genuine remorse and longing.
"Look, Emily, this better be the last time you call me out to say things like this to me," I said, frustration evident in my voice.
"Ben, please don't be like this," she pleaded, her eyes filled with concern and tears.
"Emily…" I began, my words laced with a mix of hesitation and earnestness as I attempted to address something important with her. However, before I could continue, the heavy velvet curtain to the VIP room swung open with a flourish. My friends, Jamie and Dannie, barged in, their laughter echoing through the dimly lit space.
"Ben! There you are!" Dannie exclaimed, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Hey," he said to Emily, acknowledging her presence.
Jamie, wearing a mischievous grin, added, "Let's head to the dancehall, the party's just getting started," He said, totally ignoring Emily.
My gaze flicked between my friends and Emily. Without hesitation, I gave her a regretful look, mumbled, "Sorry," and left the room with my friends, leaving her sitting there, bewildered and disappointed.