Isabelle had spent the entire day lounging in bed, stirring only when Stacy brought her breakfast. Now, with the day winding down, she finally decided to rouse herself for her evening plans. Yawning, she tossed the covers aside, letting her feet dangle off the edge of the bed. Just then, a knock at the door broke the silence, followed by Stacy's cheerful voice.
"Come in!" Isabelle called lazily.
Stacy entered, arms crossed, her expression a mix of amusement and disapproval. "When will you finally get up, you lazy potato?" she teased, shaking her head.
Isabelle shot back playfully, "Soon, mom!" She exaggerated her sarcasm, waving her hands dramatically. Stacy's eyebrow arched with mock curiosity. "Mom?"
"Yes, mom!" Isabelle laughed. "Nagging me just like one!"
Stacy chuckled and then, with a smirk, asked, "So, when are you planning to actually get ready for this date?"
"Oh, relax," Isabelle replied nonchalantly. "My date's at five. I've got plenty of time."
Stacy raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "And what time do you think it is?"
Isabelle squinted, guessing, "Probably like... two-fifteen?"
With a playful tap on her forehead, Stacy corrected her, "It's 4:45!"
"What?!?" Isabelle shrieked, checking her phone in alarm. She leapt out of bed, sprinting toward the bathroom. Stacy just laughed, waving her off as she exited the room.
Before long, Isabelle emerged from her bath, her skin glowing as she smoothed on a lavish body lotion. She slipped into her black off-the-shoulder gown, the fabric hugging her figure and perfectly complementing her raven hair. After securing her hair in a sleek bun and adding a quick swipe of lip gloss, she slipped on her black stilettos.
Just then, Stacy reappeared, putting on a mock-disapproving look. "That's what you're wearing?"
"Yes, that's what I'm wearing," Isabelle replied, grinning as she grabbed her phone. Her gaze flicked to a message from her date: I'll pick you up; send me your location. Her heart skipped a beat as she sent her location, then shot Stacy a conspiratorial grin. "Don't worry, I'll tell you everything later!"
A loud honk outside startled them both, and Stacy's eyes widened in excitement. "Your date's here!" she shrieked, dragging Isabelle downstairs.
Their jaws dropped in unison as they reached the front door. A sleek, black Ferrari sat outside, its engine purring like a panther. Stacy shot Isabelle a look, her voice somewhere between a gasp and a whisper. "Uh, Isa? I thought you said he wasn't a big deal?"
"I didn't think he was!" Isabelle murmured, equally astonished as she took in the immaculate black suit and chiseled features of the driver.
Isabelle offered a quick wave. "I'll change really quick—"
The driver interrupted apologetically, "I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't have time. The boss is waiting for you."
"Boss?" Isabelle and Stacy echoed in unison, exchanging bewildered looks. The driver's face remained impassive, his gaze unwavering.
"Who's the boss?" Stacy whispered, but Isabelle shook her head, just as puzzled. She turned to the driver, "Seriously, who is he?"
The driver's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "All in good time, ma'am. But we need to leave now."
With lingering glances at Stacy, Isabelle stepped into the car, which pulled away, leaving her friend staring after them. Isabelle, curiosity burning, turned to the driver again. "Is his name really Max?"
"Can't say," he replied shortly. After a moment's pause, he added, "The boss keeps his personal life private, even from us."
"Who are his people, then?"
He sighed, sounding weary. "Please, ma'am. No more questions." Isabelle scoffed, thinking, Rude! Bored and increasingly confused, she drifted off as the drive stretched on.
When the car finally slowed, a gentle tap on her shoulder woke her. "We're here," the driver announced.
She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sight of a towering, five-star club, sparkling under the evening lights. The elegant ambiance and well-dressed patrons made her feel slightly underdressed. "I should have listened to Stacy," she muttered, regretting not picking a more glamorous dress.
The driver guided her up the club's staircase, each floor more lavish and intimidating than the last. By the second floor, she noticed the masks – elegant, mysterious. She felt out of place, yet intrigued. Finally, they reached the third floor, where more men in matching suits lingered, each strikingly handsome, though her driver still held the edge.
"Boss is in that room." The driver pointed to a door down the hall.
Isabelle's heart pounded as she made her way alone. She steadied herself and opened the door. The rich scent of alcohol and a faint whiff of smoke met her. Across the room, seated in shadow, was a broad-shouldered man, his back facing her.
"Hello, Isabelle." His voice was deep and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.
Slowly, he swiveled in his chair to face her. The candlelight illuminated his striking face—icy blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. Isabelle's breath caught as he gave her a slow, assessing look, his gaze lingering in a way that left her feeling both excited and unnerved.
"Please, sit." He rose, towering over her as he pulled out a chair. She walked over, her pulse quickening as he gestured for her to sit.
The moment she sat, the candle on the table flared to life, casting a warm glow over a lavish spread of food. She gawked. "Who's going to eat all this?"
"You like what you see?" he asked, his gaze fixed on her.
Unable to resist the pull of his intense stare, Isabelle nodded. The man's dark hair framed his chiseled features perfectly, his suit highlighting his broad shoulders. He stepped closer, towering over her, his gaze smoldering as he reached out, loosening her bun. Her raven hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she swore she saw a faint smirk cross his lips.
"You look even better like this," he murmured, his voice low, sending a thrill through her.
Isabelle's breath hitched as she looked up into his glinting eyes. Her heart raced as he drew near, their faces inches apart. She could feel the warmth of his breath, and his scent wrapped around her senses, drawing her in.
"You're beautiful, Isabelle," he said softly, his tone rich and inviting. "But I think you know that already." His words sent a jolt through her, leaving her feeling exhilarated, yet oddly uncertain, as she tried to decipher what this man—her mysterious 'boss'—truly had in store for her.