Kirah finally saw the note inside the box. She was ready to blush hard just from seeing Dominic's name on it but instead it read: the driver will pick you up by 8 pm. She just smiled .
Dominic had never stared so hard at his gold-plated wristwatch before.
9:05 p.m.
He loosened the first two buttons of his shirt, rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and paced across the marble floors of his penthouse like a lion trapped in a cage of luxury. Every fine thing in the room—dimmed golden lights, imported candles burning slow, red wine breathing in its crystal decanter, and a feast laid out like royalty—was meaningless without her.
Kirah.
He had been clear in the email: his driver would pick her up at 8:00 p.m., sharp. But here he was, almost an hour later, no call, no message, and no Kirah.
"Where the hell is she?" Dominic muttered, grabbing his phone and dialing the driver's number again for the third time.
"She wasn't there, sir," the driver said, trying to sound apologetic but sounding more like he was accusing. "I waited outside the address for nearly forty minutes. I asked around. The neighbors said the tenants moved out months ago. Place is rundown. Sir, if you ask me—"
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Dominic snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
He ended the call and stared out the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. The city lights of Velandria twinkled beneath the dark velvet sky like scattered diamonds, but none of it impressed him now. Not when the one person who made his heart thump was possibly blowing off the night he had carefully planned for weeks.
He sighed, palms on the glass. "Did she change her mind?"
Meanwhile, at a newly furnished three-bedroom apartment on Ardenner Street...
Kirah sat at the vanity, her long legs crossed elegantly beneath her, lips coated in the perfect glossy red, her tight curls pinned up into a classy, seductive updo. Her dress was a delicate emerald green, hugging her body like silk on satin skin. Her back was bare. The neckline teased. She looked like temptation wrapped in grace.
Naya circled her like a proud stylist. "Damn, girl. If I were Dominic, I'd be on my knees already. You look like you're about to ruin a man's life."
Kirah blushed, biting her bottom lip. "You think it's too much?"
"No. I think it's perfect."
But 9:00 had come and gone. Still no driver.
Kirah paced the living room in her heels—one of the many Dominic had sent earlier—and checked her phone again. Nothing. "What if he forgot?"
"Pfft," Naya scoffed. "Men don't forget the woman they're trying to impress. Especially not a man like Dominic. Something's off. Are you sure he has the right address?"
Kirah's eyes widened. "Shit. My CV. It still has the old address."
She rushed to call him, and luckily, Dominic's call came through at the same moment.
"Kirah?" His voice was strained.
"Dominic—I'm so sorry. We moved out of that old apartment months ago. I should have updated it—"
He exhaled loudly. "You're not hurt, right? You're okay?"
"I'm fine. I've been ready. Naya dressed me up like I'm getting married tonight," she added with a nervous laugh.
There was a pause, then Dominic chuckled low, his voice dropping to that tone that always made Kirah feel seen. "Good. Because I was about to drive across the whole of Velandria to find you myself."
"Should I come over?"
"I'll send the driver now. Scratch that. I'm coming myself. Stay ready, Kirah."
10:20 p.m.
Dominic's matte black Maybach pulled into Ardenner Street, and there she was, standing outside like a vision the stars themselves bowed to. The streetlights kissed her skin, her silhouette more hypnotic than anything his wild imagination had come up with.
Kirah stepped into the car without a word, but the look she gave him when their eyes met?
It said everything.
"You look…" he whispered as his eyes drank her in. "Like you were made just for me."
She chuckled. "You're late."
"You're late," he replied, playful but reverent, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. "But you made it. That's all I care about."
At the Penthouse…
Everything had cooled down—the wine, the food, the candles burning low. But when Kirah walked in, the room sparked alive again, as though the penthouse had been waiting for her.
Dominic offered her a seat at the dining table, pulled it out for her like a gentleman. "Dinner first," he said. "Then we talk. Then… if you'll let me, I'll make the night worth remembering."
And dinner was more than food. It was stolen glances. Light touches. Smiles that said I've missed you without needing words. And when Kirah sipped her wine and leaned back to look at him, he knew he was gone for real.
After dinner, he led her to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was endless, just like the things he wanted to say to her.
"You're not just any woman, Kirah," Dominic said. "And this—what's happening between us—it's not just one night or one accident. I didn't plan to fall for you."
Kirah tilted her head, brows raised. "But you did?"
"I'm deep in it," he admitted. "And I know I've done things the wrong way. The gifts, the teasing, the silence. But tonight, I want to start doing things right."
She blinked slowly, feeling the moment wrap around her like silk.
"And if I don't believe you?" she asked.
He stepped closer, reached for her hand. "Then let me spend the rest of my life convincing you."