Flashback continues.
Vincente's hand hovered over the gear shift.
He eased the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. He left.
Friday night arrived with the anticipation of a storm on the horizon.
At precisely eight o'clock, the rumble of an engine echoed through the streets, and a sleek black limousine pulled up outside Isabella's apartment building.
The chauffeur, a man as stoic and unyielding as the car itself, stepped out to open the door.
Isabella's hands trembled as she smoothed down her dress, a soft whisper of silk that clung to her curves.
The color was a deep wine red, a stark contrast to her usual palette of soft pastels. It was a bold choice, one that she hoped would intrigue Vincente.
The chauffeur was a silent sentinel, his eyes never meeting hers as he escorted her to the car. The interior was just as luxurious as the sedan.
The car glided through the streets like a shadow, the soft hum of the engine.
When the car stopped, the chauffeur opened the door, and Isabella stepped out into the velvet embrace of the night.
The restaurant was a bastion of opulence, nestled in the heart of the city.
The valet opened the door with a flourish, revealing a world of crystal chandeliers, plush velvet drapes, and the low murmur of hushed conversations.
The scent of fine wine and gourmet cuisine wafted through the air, mingling with the heady aroma of expensive cologne and perfume.
A man with an impeccably tailored suit and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, greeted her with a nod. "Miss," he said.
He was standing at the centre of this huge restaurant.
"Sir Vincente told me to guide you inside. Sir is waiting for you." his voice was as smooth as silk.
Isabella nodded, her heart racing.
The maître d' led her through to a secluded table next to a window.
Vincente was already seated, his eyes looking focused at his phone, as Isabella approached the table.
The chandeliers above cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intense focus in his eyes.
When he looked up and saw her, his gaze swept over her, a smoldering heat that made her feel naked despite the dress.
The man that was leading her pulled the chair for her.
Vincente looked up, his gaze lingering on her, and heat flared in his eyes as they took in her form, dressed in the deep red silk that clung to her curves like a second skin.
He stood up, setting his phone aside, and offered her a hand that was both gentle and firm. "You look... exquisite," he murmured, his voice a dark caress that made her knees wobble.
The man then bowed to vincente and left them alone. Isabella looked around her and saw no one and she asked wondering to Vincente "why there's no other people other than us?"
Vincente smirked, "Because, my dear, I reserved this whole restaurant for us" he replied making her gasped just wondering how much money he has.
The waiter approached them, a young man with a meticulously trimmed beard and a smile.
He held a leather-bound menu. "Good evening, Monsieur Castellanos," he said, with a slight bow. "And welcome too Mademoiselle."
Isabella smiled and said "Thank you," she murmured, her voice a soft whisper.
Vincente's gaze remained on her, his eyes dark and unreadable. The waiter cleared his throat, and asked " what would Monsieur Castellanos want to order?" he asked, his pen poised over the notepad.
Vincente leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "The usual," he said, his eyes never leaving Isabella. The waiter nodded, and looked at Isabella with a courteous smile. "And for the lady?"
Isabella looked at the waiter from the menu, felt a blush rise to her cheeks, unsure of what to order in such a place. "I'll have...the...the salmon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The waiter nodded again and retreated.
The silence between them was filled with the clinking of silverware and the faint murmur of distant conversations.
Vincente's eyes never left her, his gaze a potent cocktail of desire and possession.
She felt like a butterfly pinned to a collector's board, unable to move, to breathe, under the weight of his scrutiny.
The waiter returned with a bottle of wine, a vintage so exclusive that it was not listed on the menu.
With a flourish, he presented it to Vincente, who examined it with a critical eye before nodding his approval.
The cork was drawn with a seductive pop, and the dark liquid was poured into their glasses, the aroma filling the air like the scent of a lover's cologne.
The sommelier approached, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of serving such a prestigious rich handsome guest.
She offered a taste to Vincente, who took a sip and nodded, his expression unreadable. "It's perfect," he said, the words a command. She filled their glasses with a graceful nod, the wine a deep, rich red.
Isabella took a sip, the taste complex and heady on her tongue. She'd never had anything so luxurious before.
The waitstaff hovered nearby, anticipating their every need with practiced grace.
Vincente leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes locked on Isabella. "So, tell me, Isabella," he began, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to wrap around her like a velvet rope.
"What do you want from life?"
The question hung in the air, as rich and complex as the wine between them.
"I... I want to be happy," Isabella said, her voice tentative. "To help people, maybe open my own café one day."
"And what makes you happy, Isabella?" he asked, his tone gentle despite the steel beneath it.
Isabella took a deep breath, before meeting his eyes again. "Love, family, friendship... the little things in life, really. Like watching the sunrise with a good cup of coffee, or seeing someone's face light up when they taste something delicious that I've made."
Vincent's expression remained unchanged, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her feel exposed.
But then, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, and he leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Love and coffee," he said, his voice a dark chuckle. "You're a simple girl with simple dreams."
He took a sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. "But the world isn't simple, Isabella," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a place of power and control, where the strong devour the weak."
Isabella felt a shiver run down her spine at his words but said nothing in return.
The first course arrived, a delicate bouquet of appetizers that looked too exquisite to eat.
The plates were a symphony of colors and flavors, each bite-sized morsel a testament to the chef's artistry.
Vincente watched her, his eyes gleaming with something akin to amusement as she picked at the food with dainty precision.
The second course was a risotto so creamy and rich, it was like a decadent embrace.
The flavors of truffle and butter melded together, coating her mouth in a heavenly symphony.
Vincent's gaze remained on her, his expression inscrutable. "You enjoy the finer things, Isabella," he said.
"I... I do," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a bite of the salmon, the flavors exploding on her tongue.
Vincent's gaze remained on her, his expression unreadable. "Good," he murmured. "Because I want to be the one to give them to you."
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Hello dear readers, please leave your opinion about this book in the comments . This is my first book so please bear with me and let me know where to improve. Thanks.⊹₊⟡⋆ 🥰
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