Champagne Problems

T W E L V E

"Well, thank you for taking me to dinner," Daphné says, settling into her seat as Vincent slides into the chair opposite her. He's chosen Elsa, a high-end restaurant perched over the sea, where almost everything inside is white. The clean, crisp design of the place only amplifies the vivid blue of the ocean stretching into the distance.

"You're welcome," Vincent replies smoothly, flashing one of his famous grins. "I figured if we're going to fake being a couple, we might as well do it right—starting with a fancy dinner."

Daphné chuckles. "Yeah, you have a point. Though, judging by the look on Benoit's face earlier, I don't think he bought it."

The table between them is beautifully arranged—scattered rose petals and a tall silver candelabra with three flickering candles. It's romantic, especially with the backdrop of the sun slowly setting over the sea, casting soft purple and pink hues across the sky.

"What would you like to drink?" asks the waitress as she hands them the wine menu. Daphné glances at Vincent.

"Shall we go for the Casa do Valle Rosé?" Vincent suggests, raising an eyebrow.

"Good choice," Daphné agrees with a smile.

The waitress takes the order and slips away.

Daphné leans back, smiling softly. "You know, I've never actually been on a proper date before."

Vincent raises his brows, smirking. "Oh, so you're a virgin?" He pauses dramatically before adding, "I mean...a date virgin."

Daphné giggles, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I suppose I am—a 'date virgin.'" She makes air quotes with her fingers.

Vincent leans forward with a mischievous grin. "Yeah, well, I've heard about your little 'hook-up' with Remy Montoya."

Daphné's cheeks flush. "Stop it," she says, playfully slapping his arm.

"I bet he was gentle." Vincent's smirk widens, clearly teasing her.

"Oh yes, it was so romantic—especially considering we were both absolutely wasted," Daphné says sarcastically, though the memory still stings a little.

It was true. She had lost her virginity to Remy five months ago, after a wild night out at Jimmy*z with their group of friends. She and Remy had been the drunkest, and after a conversation about relationships, one thing led to another. Next thing she knew, they were in his car, clumsily fumbling through the night.

It had hurt more than she expected, and in hindsight, she regretted not waiting for someone she had real feelings for. But they had both agreed not to dwell on it, and to their relief, it didn't create any awkwardness between them afterward.

"I can't believe you're teasing me about this," Daphné says, shaking her head. "And don't pretend you're innocent either, Mister Grimaldi. How was girl number forty-two?"

Vincent laughs heartily. "Not much different from girl number thirty-six," he quips, grinning.

Daphné swats him lightly, laughing along. "I can't believe you actually keep track. You've numbered them?"

"Well, I won't number you," Vincent replies smoothly. "You're too beautiful for that."

Daphné feels her cheeks warm, despite herself. "Oh, stop it."

The waitress returns with their wine and glasses, pouring them both a generous amount before asking if they're ready to order.

"Yes," Vincent says, looking at Daphné for approval. "We'll have two prosciutto appetizers and the rabbit for our mains."