Vincent found himself looking forward to his interactions with Tina in ways he hadn't experienced in years. She brought a sense of authenticity and unfiltered joy that stood in stark contrast to the meticulously curated lives of those around him. Her presence was like a splash of vibrant colour on the canvas of his otherwise grey and calculated existence.
Tina's wide-eyed enthusiasm reminded Vincent of simpler times, when ambition hadn't yet hardened his heart. There was an innocence to her that made him feel, even for a moment, like a better version of himself. He hadn't expected to be so drawn to her. Yet he couldn't deny the pull.
One evening, Vincent attended a gallery opening that he had arranged for Tina. The space was buzzing with art enthusiasts and potential buyers, but Vincent's focus remained on Tina. She was glowing with excitement, her modest dress and understated charm setting her apart from the crowd. Vincent couldn't help but admire her as she spoke passionately about her work to a small group of admirers.
From across the room, Maria observed their interactions with a mix of pride and unease. She had orchestrated this moment, introducing Tina to Vincent to loosen his hold on her life. But now, as she watched Vincent laugh at something Tina said, Maria couldn't shake the pang of jealousy gnawing at her.
When the event ended, Vincent approached Tina with a warm smile. "You were incredible tonight," he said, his voice low and genuine.
Tina blushed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It's all thanks to you. I never imagined my work would get this kind of attention."
"You deserve every bit of it," Vincent replied, his gaze steady. "How about dinner to celebrate? Just the two of us."
Tina hesitated, glancing toward Maria for reassurance. Maria, her face carefully neutral, gave a subtle nod. "Go," she said with a forced cheer. "You've earned it."
The restaurant Vincent chose was intimate and elegant, a far cry from the lively cafes Tina usually frequented. As they settled into a quiet corner, Vincent gestured for the sommelier and ordered a bottle of red wine. Tina fidgeted slightly, feeling both out of her depth and flattered by the attention.
"You've had quite a night," Vincent began, pouring her a glass. "How does it feel?"
"It's surreal," Tina admitted. "I've always dreamed of something like this, but I didn't think it would actually happen. I guess I have you to thank for that."
Vincent smiled. "You've earned it. I may have opened a door, but you're the one who walked through it."
Their conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from art to life and back again. Tina spoke about her struggles as a young artist trying to make a name for herself, her fears of failure, and her admiration for Maria's strength and determination.
"Maria's always been my rock," Tina said, her voice softening. "She's so confident, so sure of herself. I don't know how she does it."
Vincent's expression darkened for a moment, a shadow passing over his features. "Maria is... complex," he said carefully. "She's had to fight for everything she has."
Tina nodded; her eyes thoughtful. "I just hope I can make her proud. She's done so much for me."
Vincent leaned forward, his gaze intense. "You already have. You remind me of someone I used to know—a person who saw the world with the same kind of wonder you do. It's a rare quality."
Tina tilted her head, curiosity lighting up her face. "Who was it?"
Vincent hesitated, the memory catching him off guard. "Someone who... mattered," he said finally. "Someone I let slip away."
Tina smiled gently. "Maybe you'll find that again."
Vincent studied her, the sincerity in her eyes catching him off guard. "Maybe I already have," he murmured, almost to himself.
As the evening wore on, Tina felt herself relaxing in Vincent's presence. She laughed at his dry humour, listened intently as he shared stories from his past, and found herself drawn to his enigmatic charm. He made her feel seen in a way that was new and exhilarating.
For Vincent, the dinner was more than just a celebration; it was a reminder of what he had lost and what he might yet gain. Tina's openness and optimism were magnetic, a stark contrast to the guarded and transactional relationships that dominated his life. She didn't see him as a power broker or a man to be feared; she saw him as a person.
By the time they left the restaurant, the connection between them had deepened. Vincent walked Tina to her car, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. "Thank you for tonight," Tina said, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude. "I won't forget it."
"Neither will I," Vincent replied, his tone earnest.
Maria watched them from her own car, parked discreetly down the street. She had expected this and hoped for it, even though seeing them together stirred something she hadn't anticipated. The way Vincent looked at Tina, the way Tina lit up in his presence—it all felt too intimate, too real.
For the first time, Maria questioned the path she had set them on. She had wanted to free herself from Vincent's grasp, but at what cost? As she gripped the steering wheel, her mind raced with doubt and regret. The plan had been simple in theory, but in practice, it was unravelling in ways she couldn't control.
Vincent's fascination with Tina was undeniable, and Tina's growing trust in him was equally evident. Maria had thought she could orchestrate their connection from a safe distance, but now, watching them together, she realised the truth: she had unleashed something she couldn't take back.
And for the first time, Maria felt the weight of what she had done pressing heavily on her chest. She had wanted freedom, but at what price?