Weekends for Emma used to follow a predictable, carefree rhythm. Saturday mornings started with an invigorating run through the park, her favorite playlist keeping her pace steady. Lunchtime meant catching up with friends over good food, discussing everything from work drama to the next out-of-town vacation they'd meticulously plan but might never take. The afternoon was reserved for indulging in some retail therapy—finding the perfect dress or splurging on a pair of killer heels.
But this Saturday was different. Emma was officially someone's girlfriend, and for the first time in years, she had a GFBF date to prepare for. She could barely wrap her head around the idea, and yet, she couldn't deny the tiny spark of excitement that had her smiling as she sipped her morning coffee.
As the hours ticked closer to two, her anticipation grew. By mid-morning, she was rummaging through her wardrobe, pulling out dresses and holding them against her figure in front of the mirror. Too casual. Too formal. Too… boring. She finally settled on a chic yet flirty sundress—a soft blush pink with a cinched waist that highlighted her curves just right.
Next came her makeup. Emma sat at her vanity, carefully blending foundation and adding just the right amount of blush for a healthy glow. She lined her eyes with a subtle flick of eyeliner, just enough to make her dark eyes pop, and finished with a swipe of coral lipstick that added a playful touch.
Her stilettos were the final decision, and she wasn't taking it lightly. After trying on three pairs, she chose a pair of nude, strappy heels that elongated her legs and paired perfectly with the dress.
As she stood in front of the mirror for one last look, she felt a surge of confidence. Her hair was styled in soft waves that framed her face, her outfit was killer, and her heels clicked with authority on the floor. Emma Dee was ready to own this date.
Though she'd never admit it to anyone—not even herself—she was giddy. The butterflies in her stomach weren't just from nerves but also from the thrill of stepping into something new. And while she still wasn't sure how she felt about the whole girlfriend label, she knew one thing: William had better be ready, because she was about to bring her A-game.
Emma sat on the couch, nibbling on a light snack as she watched the clock. Each tick seemed louder, sharper, as though time itself was teasing her. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror by the door, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on her dress. She felt a bit ridiculous—like Cinderella waiting for her carriage. The butterflies in her stomach flitted around faster than ever.
Her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. It was a William calling: "Which building are you in?"
Emma looks outside the window. "Just wait in your car," she replied. "What car should I look for?"
But William wasn't having it. "I'm picking you up at your door. That's non-negotiable."
Her heart skipped a beat. Picking her by her door? Why? Does he want to see my apartment? She thought nervously. Quickly, she glanced around then told him her apartment number. Her apartment was spotless—its minimalist design reflecting her practical nature. Clean, white walls framed the space, accented with simple wooden furniture. A plush gray sofa sat in the middle of the living room, adorned with a single throw pillow. The bookshelves were neatly organized, and the air smelled faintly of lavender, courtesy of a diffuser in the corner. The place was pristine, yet impersonal, as if revealing nothing about her.
Before she could overthink it further, the bell rang. Emma peeked through the door viewer.
There he was—William. He wore a casual gray shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, faded jeans that hinted at a well-toned physique, and black Nike sneakers. He stood there confidently, his posture relaxed, and exuding charms.
Taking a quick moment to steady herself, Emma opened the door and stepped out, shutting it firmly behind her before William could even glance inside.
"Shall we?" she asked, her tone brisk.
William raised an eyebrow and says. "Sure, Babe... But whats the hurry? Hiding something? Someone?"
"No!" Emma pout "So where do you park?"
"Right next to your car" he said casually, leading the way.
As they entered the parking area, Emma froze. Parked next to her reliable yet modest sedan was the sleek, breathtaking form of a Porsche 918 Spyder.
"That's… your car?" Emma managed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
William chuckled, leaning casually against the Spyder's door. "What, were you expecting an old pickup truck?"
Emma stood there for a moment longer, her gaze shifting between William and the Porsche 918 Spyder. The car was jaw-droppingly luxurious, the kind of vehicle that turned heads wherever it went. She couldn't help but wonder how William, a manager at their company, could possibly afford such an extravagant car.
Does he rent it? she thought. The idea lingered in her mind, her practical instincts kicking in. If this is his attempt to impress me, he shouldn't have gone to such lengths. This isn't wise spending at all.
Her brow furrowed slightly. Was this supposed to be part of the surprise? She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that he might have spent a fortune just to dazzle her. Flashy displays like this weren't necessary to win her over. In fact, they made her uneasy.
William must have noticed her hesitance because he grinned and gestured to the open passenger door. "Come on, Babe. Don't overthink it. It's just a car."
Just a car? Emma shook her head slightly but stepped forward anyway. She slid into the passenger seat, the leather interior enveloping her in unmatched comfort. Still, her thoughts lingered.
As William got into the driver's seat and started the car, the soft purr of the engine was like a reminder of the money it took to own such a beast. She turned to him, curiosity evident in her eyes.
"You know," she began carefully, "this car is… extravagant. You didn't have to go all out to impress me."
William chuckled as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "Impress you? Babe, this is just my ride."
Emma narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or joking. She decided not to push further—for now.
The Porsche pulled out of the parking spot with smooth precision, and Emma resolved to let herself enjoy the moment, even if she couldn't quite shake the nagging thought in the back of her mind: This might not be as simple as it seems.
The drive took two hours, the hum of the Porsche's engine filling the otherwise quiet road. When they finally arrived, Emma's breath hitched as they pulled up to the Mandarin Resorts and Casino—a towering masterpiece of luxury.
As they pulled into the Mandarin Resorts and Casino, a valet in a crisp black suit immediately approached the car. The young man's demeanor was polite yet professional, his white gloves spotless. William rolled down the window, and the valet greeted them with a practiced smile.
"Welcome to Mandarin Resorts and Casino, Sir. May I park your car for you?"
William nodded, stepping out of the Porsche with the confidence of someone who owned the world. He handed the keys to the valet and then walked over to open Emma's door.
"After you, my lady," he said, extending a hand to help her out.
Emma accepted his hand and stepped onto the polished stone driveway. As she adjusted her dress, she couldn't help but notice the valet taking a moment to admire the car, his expression tinged with awe. She glanced at William, who seemed unfazed, as if this were his usual mode of transportation.
The valet smoothly got into the car and carefully drove it toward the exclusive valet parking area, where high-end vehicles were neatly lined up. Emma watched as the Porsche disappeared from sight, a lingering thought crossing her mind: Was all this just for show?
William seemed to read her expression. "Don't worry," he said with a smirk. "They're professionals. The car's in good hands."
"Not worried about the car," Emma muttered under her breath, following him toward the grand entrance.
With each step closer to the luxurious lobby, the grandeur of the resort washed over her, momentarily pushing aside her doubts. Whatever William had planned, it was shaping up to be a day she wouldn't forget.
As they stepped into the luxurious lobby of Mandarin Resorts and Casino, William turned to Emma with an easy smile. "So, have you been here before?" he asked, his tone casual.
Emma shook her head, a bit surprised by the question. "No, actually. For all my traveling, I've never been here. This place is almost exclusive. It's not exactly the type of resort you can just wander into," she admitted.
William's grin widened. "Well, that's about to change. Let me show you around."
They started with the main lobby, where Emma couldn't help but marvel at the grand staircase, the towering floral arrangements, and the glittering chandeliers. She lingered near the piano lounge, where a skilled pianist played soft, melodic tunes that seemed to float through the air.
Next, William led her to the mezzanine level, where boutique stores lined the corridor. Emma's eyes flitted over the designer displays—Chanel, Prada, Louis Vuitton—all glowing behind glass cases like art installations. The quiet hum of wealth surrounded them, from the impeccably dressed shoppers to the elegant sales associates offering champagne to customers.
They passed by the casino floor, where the clinking of chips and the low buzz of excitement filled the air. Emma found herself mesmerized by the flashing lights of the slot machines and the focused intensity of the players seated at the card tables.
The sightseeing continued with a brief stroll through the pool area, where the crystal-clear water sparkled under the midday sun. Private cabanas, each furnished like a miniature luxury suite, dotted the landscape. Beyond that, the infinity pool seemed to melt into the horizon, creating a seamless view of the lush greenery and mountains beyond.
"You like it so far?" William asked, glancing at her with a playful expression.
Emma nodded, feeling a mixture of awe and disbelief. "It's... breathtaking," she admitted.
William stopped abruptly outside a Bvlgari store, his grin turning mischievous. The sleek, black-and-gold storefront exuded opulence, the name alone radiating exclusivity. He turned to Emma and said, "Let's go in."
Emma's brows furrowed. "What? Why?"
"Let's get something," he said, stepping closer to her. His grin widened. "Like a couple of rings. A promise ring of some sort."
Emma froze, her eyes widening as she stared at him. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. She knew Bvlgari wasn't a store for casual purchases—it was for those willing to drop the kind of money that made her stomach churn.
William, as unfazed as ever, chuckled. "Why not?" he said, his tone light and teasing.
Emma hesitated, her gaze darting between him and the glimmering display cases inside the store. She couldn't decide what shocked her more: the audacity of his suggestion or the fact that he seemed completely at ease about it. For a moment, she wondered if he was doing this just to impress her, and if so, why on earth would he choose something so over-the-top?
"William," she began, trying to find the words to protest, "you do realize how pricey everything in there is, right?"
"We are just going to look," he replied smoothly, his grin never faltering. "and buy after"
Emma didn't know whether to be flattered, embarrassed, or concerned about his seemingly carefree attitude toward money. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever came next as he confidently held the door open for her.
William guided Emma toward the elegant display of couple rings, each shimmering under the soft, golden lights. The sales associate, a polished woman with a warm smile, began introducing the pieces with practiced ease.
"This one," she said, pointing to a sleek, intertwined band with a single, understated diamond, "is called Infinito. It symbolizes eternal love and unity."
Emma's eyes lingered on it. The design was simple yet meaningful, not too flashy—just her style.
"And this," the sales associate continued, directing their attention to a more intricate design, "is the Serpenti Viper. It's inspired by the seductive beauty of a snake and represents transformation and strength. Very popular among couples who want something bold and unique."
Emma admired the craftsmanship of the Serpenti Viper. Its coiled design and diamond-studded detailing were undeniably stunning, but she hesitated. It seemed extravagant, almost too much.
The associate expertly measured their ring sizes, presenting the two designs for them to choose. Emma looked at William, her expression torn, silently asking for his opinion.
William, ever decisive, pointed to the Serpenti Viper. "This one," he said with a confident grin. "It's got character, just like us."
Emma chuckled softly at his reasoning but raised a skeptical brow when he added, "Let's have them personalized. Engrave our nicknames inside the bands—like a claim. You know, 'this person belongs to me.'" His eyes sparkled mischievously.
The sales associate nodded eagerly, already suggesting fonts for the engraving. But Emma, always practical, decided to check the price first. Her eyes widened as she read the tag.
"Wait a minute," she said, her voice laced with disbelief. "This set costs almost ten thousand euros?" She turned to William, her expression a mix of shock and exasperation. "For two rings? What the fuck, William?"
William, unfazed, gave her a lazy grin. "It's not about the cost, Babe. It's about what they represent."
Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "What they represent is financial recklessness. You're a manager, not a tech mogul! This is insane."
William laughed, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Relax. It's just money, and I want this to be special."
Emma crossed her arms, refusing to budge. "Special doesn't have to cost ten thousand euros! We can find something meaningful and reasonable."
William is still insisting that they have to get the ring.
Emma shook her head firmly, stepping away from the glimmering display of jewelry. "This is too much, William. I can't let you spend this kind of money for a couple of rings. It's ridiculous."
Before William could respond, she turned on her heel and walked out of the store, leaving him standing there, bewildered.
William hesitated for a moment, then sighed. He turned to the sales associate, muttered something, and followed Emma outside with a small box in his hand.
Emma stood near a decorative fountain in the hotel lobby, arms crossed, fuming. When she saw him approach, her eyes narrowed. "What part of 'no' didn't you understand?"
He held out the small box with an apologetic smile. "Relax, Babe. It's not a ring. It's just a bracelet—and the cheapest one in the store. Promise."
Emma looked at the box suspiciously, then opened it. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, simple but elegant, with a small pearl in the middle.
"I thought it would look good on you," William said, his tone softer now. "No engraving, no drama. Just something nice to remember today."
Her anger melted, replaced by a reluctant smile. "You're impossible," she muttered, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist.
"I get that a lot," he said with a wink. "Now, can we get to the part where you eat something amazing and forgive me completely?"
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Amazing, huh? Where are you taking me?"
William grinned. "To the Michelin-starred restaurant upstairs. I made a reservation."
Emma blinked, momentarily stunned. "A Michelin-starred restaurant? You sure you can afford this after that bracelet stunt?"
He laughed. "Don't worry about it. Just enjoy the experience."
They took the elevator to the restaurant, which was perched on the top floor of the resort. The ambiance was breathtaking—soft ambient lighting, panoramic windows showcasing the city skyline, and tables set with crisp white linens and sparkling crystal glasses.
The maître d' greeted them warmly and guided them to a table near the window. Emma couldn't help but feel a little dazzled as she took in the luxurious surroundings.
As soon as they were seated, William leaned toward the waiter and quietly instructed, "No seafood, please. My girlfriend is allergic. Adjust the menu accordingly."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "How did you know? Do you do a background check on me?" she teased.
William smirked. "Yes, It is research, Babe."
The first course arrived in a swirl of precision and flair. The waiter placed a tiny, intricately plated appetizer before Emma, explaining the dish like it was a masterpiece in a museum. Emma tilted her head, inspecting the bite-sized portion.
"This is it?" she whispered to William. "It's like a free sample."
He chuckled. "Welcome to Michelin dining, Babe. You're paying for the art, not the volume."
Emma couldn't help but laugh as more courses arrived, each more extravagant than the last. One dish looked so elegant—a delicate arrangement of edible flowers, a mousse of some sort, and an artistic drizzle of sauce—that she hesitated.
"It's too pretty to eat," she said, her fork hovering.
"Just take a bite," William encouraged. "It's food, not a painting."
As they enjoyed the meal, the conversation flowed. They laughed over high school memories, teasing each other about their antics. Emma confessed how she used to sneak anime into class, while William admitted how he'd tried (and failed) to impress her back then.
"You really were a snob," William said, grinning.
Emma rolled her eyes. "I wasn't a snob. I just thought everyone is out to bully me."
The evening passed in a delightful mix of laughter and exquisite cuisine, though Emma couldn't resist commenting on the prices.
"So," she asked between courses, "how much is this little culinary adventure costing you?"
William chuckled. "You're cheeky, you know that? Keeping tabs on the price. Let's just say it's worth it to see you having fun."
By the time dessert—a decadent, gold-dusted chocolate sphere—arrived, Emma found herself genuinely enjoying the experience, though her initial skepticism about the portion sizes lingered.
As they left the restaurant, the night had fully descended. The air was cool and crisp as they walked to the lobby. Emma's mind wandered as they stepped outside, wondering if William had arranged for them to stay overnight.
Her imagination spiraled—images of them alone in a luxurious suite filled her thoughts. But before she could ask, William stretched and said, "Well, it's late. Time to head home."
Emma blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Home?"
He nodded, handing the valet ticket to the attendant. Within moments, the sleek Porsche Spyder pulled up, gleaming under the lights.
The drive home was quiet, Emma staring out the window, feeling a strange mix of relief and dismay. She was almost ready to dismiss the night as a perfect date with a mundane ending when William glanced at her and said, "Want to come over to my condo?"
Emma's heart skipped a beat. "Your condo?"
William smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yeah. Unless you're too tired...."
Oh my God, Oh my God , this is it?!?
Emma's internal thoughts.