THE DINNER

I am feeling like a Disney Princess as we stroll inside this lavishly sumptuous hotel. It has been years since I wore a long gown like this and more than two-inch stilettos. I got rid of them all when I had the liberty to live alone. I despised them until a few minutes ago when Damian pulled this one from a gift bag and handed it to me. It is now officially corroborated that he possesses some mystic ability to make me fall in love with just about everything. Never would I have dreamt of wearing a long dress ever again and still feeling this good and confident, but here I am, bleeding a phenomenal feeling and dazzling like a diamond as my long dress sweeps the floor while we make our way to our table.


"Here, Mia Regina!" Damian says, peeling his hand off my waist to pull the chair for me. Mia Regina? I am not certain what language that is, but at least I know that it means "my queen.". Just how many foreign languages does he know?

"Thank you," I respond chirpingly, and park myself on the seat with a broad appreciative grin.

"What is making you smile like that? I am not complaining, though. I love seeing you smile. It makes you look more beautiful," he says as he takes his seat across me after resting my purse on the table.


"Just wondering how many languages you know," I respond, and at the same time, a waitress strolls to us with two glasses of pure apple juice.

Mmh! One of my favorites. The guy knows me inside out.


"Greetings, sir, miss!" She greets us, and after we respond to her greetings, she hands us the juice. "Your order will be ready in a few minutes. Enjoy."

"Okay. Thank you." Damian responds, and she walks away.

I have no idea what he has ordered, but I trust him with everything. Including my soul.

"I took Spanish and French in high school. Then Italian and German in the university."

Wow! And here I'm gloating with my little Spanish. Goodness!

We start sampling our juices as we wait for the main order, and as we do so, I can't help but extort glances at him. A man who is so perfect in everything—beauty, brains—is the meticulous epitome of quintessence. The flawless God of sophistication, I would call him. How else sweet could my rebellion have been?

To the one whom we pray to, I have already marked and claimed this rare gem. Let no bitch or anything come between us.

"So, are you ready to go back?" He breaks the long silence.

"If I were to be honest, I would say no. But I understand that we don't have a choice," I retort with all honesty.

"We will have more opportunities to do this. Here, or wherever else in the world." He ascertains, extending his hand to mine across the table and giving it a kiss. "I promise."

Being touchy in the open like this is not a good idea, but I think I can handle it. "I will be glad to tour the nation or even the entire world with you," I respond as he plants another kiss on my palm.

Isn't he being too romantic out here? We might be kicked out if he continues like this.

We dive into each other's eyes for a moment, relishing the beauty in each other. My heart is thumping up, and before we start lapsing here, the waitress distracts us with our order. I bloom at her finding us in this compromising situation as we jerk away a little because Damian doesn't seem to mind at all. He is still tickling the back of my hand with his thumbs.

I had to wink at him to alert him that we were not in a room. He smirks, letting go of my arm.

As we sit down to feast on the mouthwatering spread before us, our attention is wholly consumed by the tantalizing aroma of the food. The roasted meat, perfectly complemented by crispy French fries and a rich mushroom sauce, proves to be an irresistible temptation. Each bite is a symphony of flavors, sending waves of delight coursing through our taste buds.

By the time we finish our meal and recline back into our chairs, a contented sigh escapes my lips. I am so full that I feel like I might not need to eat for the next three days. "That was incredibly scrumptious," I mumble.

"I know, right? They are the best-rated around here," he responds.

Right then, the waitress returns with the bill, and my eyes almost pop out of their socket after seeing the figures on the receipt. Whooping what? Don't get me wrong. Money is not an issue to me at all, but I hate being swindled. I mean, come on!

He hands the waitress his credit card, and I roll my eyes as he processes the payment.

"What's wrong?" He discerns my affliction after he is done and the waitress is out of our sight.

I raise an eyebrow. "Why do they have to charge that much? It is too much!" I implore, and he chuckles first before speaking.

"A true Riccaford whining about prices? That is an affront to you and your title, Ellie!"

I smirk. "I know, and that is exactly the point. For me to note the difference, their figures must have been too manipulated. I am not complaining, okay? I just don't like being robbed," I state my mind.

He wiggles his head in an ‘oh, well, well' gesture. "Well, it's not you who is paying."

I deeply frown. "And that makes it even worse. You have spent a whole lot on me and"

"Hey." He grabs my hands. "I am your fiance, Ellie. These sh*t notes I am spending are nothing. They won't even make a difference in my account balance."

Ooh! I have never heard him brag like that. My! "But you know I would be happy with you anywhere, right?" I implore.