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After a traumatic breakup with her college sweetheart, Aria Davenport meets an older, more sexually experienced businessman who promises to change her life forever.
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Four Weeks Ago
Friday Night
"Aria be careful. You came undone, girl. Out there. Unhinged. That rolling on a rock thing," Mia laughs. "Yeah, it was funny, but you need to think twice! I have never seen you like this before. It's like you're obsessed. You've got blinders on. You can't see anything but him and I can't believe he came back around, after that. He's either crazy right along with you, or he really does love you. Just be careful not to take things too far."
"Mia! Don't forget who's big sis." I rush to put the final touch on my lipstick. "That's behind us now. We talked, we're over it and we're on to better things. Listen, he's on his way right now. Call you later?"
"Sure. Where are you going?"
"To dinner at some fancy five-star restaurant downtown! I'm excited. I hear the food is heavenly!"
"Have fun," her tone is cautionary.
"Tonight will be perfect. Bye!"
"Bye."
Phoenix pulls up in front of my house in a black Dodge Viper with red trim. He gets out of the car dressed in a sleek grey suit, crisp white shirt, no tie.
"Don't you look handsome." I walk to the car unable to take my eyes off him.
Hands in his pockets, he stares with that brilliant, charming smile of his. "Beautiful," he whispers in my ear as he rests his hand on the small of my back.
He opens the door for me and closes it after I get in.
He gets into the Viper. "Red looks ravishing on you, Ms. Davenport." And he starts the car.
"Why, thank you, Mr. Prescott," I reply, anticipating the night ahead. Now that we've both revealed ourselves and our true feelings for each other are out in the open, I'm curious to know if anything will change. Not that I want it to. I actually want things to go back to normal. With me being calm and level-headed.
Moments later, we arrive at the House of Chopin. Phoenix pulls up in front and tosses the valet his key fob as he gets out and comes to the passenger side to open my door. We walk through one of the tall glass doors of the establishment. Inside, it's breathtaking. Satiny fleur-de-lis ivory tablecloths, centerpieces with fresh white orchids, a warm glow from candle lights and live classical piano music set the mood for an exceptional evening.
"Hello, Mr. Prescott. We have your table ready. Right this way." The hostess leads.
I can't help but look up and around in wonder, like a child seeing a fascinating new place for the first time. "So, this is your hangout, huh?"
"Been here a time or two," he says, with a grin.
Whenever something is a first for me, he always has this amused glint in his eye. He watches me with enthusiasm, as I marvel at the things he's come to take for granted. He waits for my reaction, like he gets some sort of satisfaction out of it.
