Damned Royalty

Chapter 14

You sat in your car outside the restaurant and watched as the clock ticked another minute passed. You were supposed to meet him at seven o'clock but arrived fifteen minutes early. Problem now was it was quarter after seven and you still hadn't willed yourself to get out of the car.

"Is everything okay, ma'am?" your driver called back to you.

"Huh? Oh... yes. I just need a minute."

Apparently, you needed another five. You hadn't been this nervous in a long time. You wished you knew what he wanted so you could prepare what you had to say to him. Hell... you wished you knew what you wanted. A few days ago, you thought you did. You thought you were done with him, but the moment you heard his voice again over the phone, you felt your resolve crumble.

You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly – then finally reached for the door handle.

"Welcome to Pierre Marseille, Ms. Y/N," you were greeted at the entrance by the strikingly beautiful hostess. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see your name on the reservation list tonight," she was so apologetic as she began flipping through her guest list.

"Oh, no, Ishani," you raised your hands apologetically. "I'm meeting someone tonight."

"Oh?"

"Is there a Mr. Park here?"

You noticed for only a moment how her eyes widened when you said his name – but she corrected her expression immediately with a smile.

"He is. He's waiting for you in the back," she stuck out her hand and gestured for you to follow her.

Of all the places in the city he could have taken you – he decided on here. The most luxurious, most expensive fine dining in the city. You would have been happy to meet him in a coffee shop to talk instead – but he insisted on here. Perhaps a display of his wealth. Perhaps to sway you. Or, perhaps he was just more pretentious than you knew him to be.

Ishani led you toward the private dining areas, stopping in front of a door.

"He's in here," she smiled. "Enjoy your evening."

You thanked her and she turned and walked away. You brushed your hair with your hands then pulled your shoulders backwards, straightening your posture, then opened the door and stepped inside.

He was there, his back turned to you as he gazed out over the river and the city skyline. You caught each other's gaze through the reflection in the glass window.

"You came," he said as you stepped into the room. He then turned around to face you. In one quick motion, he scanned the length of your figure. You felt a smug satisfaction well up inside you. You had, of course, once again encased your body in a curve hugging, leg exposing dress that you knew would drive him wild.

You opened your mouth to apologize for being late but closed it again – deciding that you didn't owe him any apologise. You then noticed the table, lit dimly with a centrepiece made of small florals and glass candle holders, placed neatly over a white linen tablecloth. A table set romantically for two. Your heart fluttered at the sight.

He walked over to one chair and pulled it from the table – a gesture for you to take a seat. You didn't move immediately – for a moment you thought about turning away from him and leaving the room. But – just as you did each time it came to Jimin – something inside you told you to stay.

"You look incredible," he graveled into your ear as you took your seat.

"I know," you replied matter-of-factly. You made sure you looked good – why try to hide it?