I ran upstairs, fell back on my bed and found my phone, his name appearing immediately.
Today at 14:54pm
Marcus
i need context
Shoot
where exactly are you taking me?
Do you like surprises?
actually, i do.
Then i’m not telling you
then i’ll see you at 7
Whenever I had to get ready for an event, a premiere, or a launch party for some ridiculous influencer brand that everyone would forget in a month or two, I never, ever cared about what I looked like. I got dressed up, obviously, but never had I stressed about my hair falling the right way. Never had I worried about my outfit showing off my favourite parts of me. Never had false eyelashes been so fucking hard to stick on.
“Fuck it,” I said, throwing the things to the ground.
It took me two more minutes to realise they were still stuck to my fingertips.
“Pair of twats,” I cursed, peeling them off and running frantically to find my mascara bottle, drenching my lashes in as much of it as I could. I was lucky I’d been blessed with such longeyelashes—which the girls never failed to remind me about, telling me how chosen I should feel. And after fanning them enough that the didn't ransfer onto the eyeshadow I'd spend an embarassing amount of time on, I headed downstairs.
Finn caught me on the staircase as he came in, helping me with the straps on my little heels. Daisy quickly re-touched a curl I'd missed and I said a silent thank you two whatever fates decided to send the Rhodes twins our way. Then, when I felt a little out of breath, I gave myself a once-over in the hallway mirror like this was the most important outfit choice I'd made up until this moment.
It was just a simple black silk midi dress. Cowl neck. Diamond straps. Black tights to keep out the cold.
Just another dress until right now.
On the surface, tonight was nothing special—but it was also incredibly special, because it had just dawned on meagainthat Marcus Romano had asked me on a date and I was about two minutes away from seeing him.
A soft knock sounded before I could even start to wonder if I was ready.
Of course I wasn’t ready. Not emotionally. Physically, yes. The silk hugged me in all the right places, the heels fit, my hair was shiny. But my heart? My heart was a jittery mess, thudding against my ribs like it was trying to make a run for it.
Still, I opened the door.
And my breath hitched as I found him, standing there like sin, wrapped in a something that made him feel like sunshine.
He was clean-cut and razor-sharp in black—no tie, just an open collar, hints of his tattoos and devastating intent. But it wasn’t the suit that got me. What got me was his face.
The way he looked at me.
Like I was something sacred. Like I’d just stepped out of a dream and he was afraid I might disappear if he blinked. His eyes dragged over me slowly, reverently, like he was cataloguing every inch of me—not with lust, though there was plenty of that, but with something softer. Something I didn’t know how to hold with someone so beautifully complex as him.
“Cora.” He said my name like a vow.
I tucked a curl behind my ear, trying to summon the armour I always wore, something to make this moment less serious. Less real.
But all that came out was, “You’re staring.”
He didn’t look away. “I know.”
There was no tease in his voice. No bravado. Just quiet honesty.
