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Valentino’s Delight is a hidden gem nestled within the heart of the city, concealed by an unassuming façade that belies the opulence within. As I approach the entrance, a discreet sign bathed in soft, golden light announces the name of the establishment. The windows are draped with rich, heavy curtains, offering only the faintest glimpses of the intriguing world concealed within. Dominic discreetly positions himself in the parking lot, ready to intervene if the need arises, but I don’t know how much he’ll be able to see inside. Dominic probably chose this location just for that purpose. Only those inside will know what’s going on.
Dylan holds the door open for me, a hushed atmosphere enveloping us. The doors are unlocked despite the place being closed for the night, and there’s hardly a soul inside, not even workers cleaning up the place.
There, in the corner, is Damian Blackthorn. There’s no one else in sight.
I take a moment to soak in the surroundings, scanning the place so I know where everything is. The restaurant is one of refined elegance. The interior is adorned with muted earth tones, creating a warm and inviting ambiance. I hadn’t realized it at first, but soft jazz music plays in the background, enhancing the sophisticated yet understated charm of the space. The lighting is strategically dimmed, casting a soft glow over the well-appointed tables and plush seating. It’s intimate, and I wonder how the food is and if I should come here with one of my lovers for dinner sometime soon.
The seating arrangement ensures privacy for each party, with secluded corners and partitioned spaces contributing to an intimate setting. Ornate chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a gentle illumination that dances across the tastefully decorated walls.
The air is infused with the alluring scents of gourmet cuisine, promising a culinary experience that matches the restaurant’s reputation. Waitstaff, impeccably dressed, move silently between tables, attending to the needs of the exclusive clientele.
The exterior, a juxtaposition of simplicity and mystery, gives no hint of the sophistication held within. The modest façade conceals the world of Valentino’s Delight, a haven for those seeking discretion and indulgence in the heart of the bustling city.
The aroma of fine cuisine hangs in the air, but the tension is palpable as we approach Damian’s table. His dark eyes lock onto mine, calculating and unreadable, a silent acknowledgment of the power dynamics at play between us.
“Vanessa.” Damian’s voice cuts through the soft music, the only other sound in the empty restaurant. “I appreciate your willingness to meet. Please, have a seat.”
I nod, taking a chair opposite him, Dylan positioning himself strategically nearby. The table is a battlefield, and my words are the weapons carefully chosen for this delicate negotiation as Damian’s will be too, no doubt. I don’t see anyone else here, just the three of us, but I’m glad Dylan is here inside with me. I’m sure that Damian has at least one player here on his behalf in the back, potentially more.
Damian Blackthorn exudes an air of calculated power, his demeanor revealing little about the complexities that lie beneath. The discreet lighting and hushed ambiance lend an air of secrecy to our clandestine meeting.
As we delve into the conversation, each sentence becomes a move, a step on the intricate dance floor of power and manipulation. I remain vigilant, mindful of Damian’s every word, searching for hidden agendas and unspoken intentions. The fate of our clandestine empires hangs in the balance, and Inavigate the conversation with a calculated finesse, determined to emerge victorious.
“I’m so very glad you came,” he says.
“I was surprised by your invitation.”
“But it was not unwelcomed, I trust.”
I spent hours earlier today trying to release my anger and frustration geared toward this man. Damian is very much a rich, powerful player, handsome too, and he’s used to having his way. That he blew up my property and attacked one of Sophia’s businesses, and is now acting as if he did nothing wrong… Does he think I’m a fool who doesn’t know what he did to me?
I blow out a breath. “That depends,” I say evenly.
“On?”
“If you asked me here for the reason I hoped you did.”
“And that is…” He nods to the filled wine glass before me. There are no plates, no silverware, just two wine glasses. Damian hasn’t had a sip of his ruby red wine yet.
I ignore the glass, trying to show that he holds no power over me. “An apology would be nice for one.”
“An apology?”
“I know what you did.”
“Oh?”
“Games are not cute.”
“No? I might like watching you squirm a bit, but for now… Perhaps I did act a bit hasty.”
“Not precisely an apology.”
“An apology is a sign of weakness.”
“Or it’s a sign of growth… and good faith.”
“Is there good faith between us?”
