The paper is thick. Expensive. Familiar.
I open it.
For you, yarkaya.
Because you deserve the best.
Look stunning tonight. You always are.
I can’t wait to see you.
S.R.
Sebastian.
I exhale slowly, sinking into a chair.
As someone who grew up adjacent to wealth and power—who understands quiet money, old money—I know exactly how much this costs.
Too much for a first date.
Too much for someone who claims this means nothing.
Why would he splurge like this on me?
On one evening?
On a woman who’s refused him over and over?
If he thinks this will soften me—convince me to agree to a second date—he’s joking.
I stare at the dress again, my chest tightening.
This is just one night.
One date.
And after that…it’s over.
***
At exactly six p.m., there’s a knock at my door.
Not early. Not late.
Precise.
I open it—and there he is.
Sebastian.
He’s dressed in a tailored black suit that looks like it was made for him, a crisp white shirt beneath, no tie. His dark hair is neatly combed back, revealing sharp cheekbones and eyes that feel far too knowing. He smells…incredible. Something deep and clean and unmistakably masculine, like cedar and spice.
He holds a bouquet of white roses, simple and elegant.
For a second, I forget how to speak.
He takes my hand gently, bringing it to his lips. His mouth brushes my skin, warm and deliberate.
