PATRICKS POV
I left the house with a sense of urgency, my heart racing with anticipation as I headed to the art gallery. After a week of persuasion, Monica James finally agreed to meet with me, and I wasn't about to waste the opportunity. Arriving an hour early, I found myself pacing the far corner of the gallery, trying to calm the thoughts swirling in my head.
Then, I saw her.
Monica walked in, looking stunning in a white dress that clung to her figure, making her seem a decade younger than she was. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her approach. The way she carried herself, the effortless grace—it was impossible to ignore. She spotted me and strode over, stopping just inches away. I looked down at her, taking in every inch of her with an appreciative glance that must have been obvious. Her beauty was intoxicating.
