** Anna’s POV **
There was a knock on the office door and I let out a sigh, who could it be now? I had resumed work three days after the incident with Mr. Wilson. The company staff seemed pleased with his dismissal and has openly expressed their approval of my decision to fire him.
The attack was still an inside thing because I didn’t want to ruin his reputation, just the top staff knew what really happened that led to his dismissal.
“Come in,” I muttered after the second knock.
The door was pushed open and a delivery man walked in. I immediately recognized him, he was the same guy that had delivered the car to me when I got employed by Mr. Blackwood.
“Hi Ma’am, nice to see you again.” He said with a small smile as he strolled in.
I returned a warm smile of my own. “Hey… is there a delivery for me?” I asked as my eyes scanned the content of the box in his hand.
“Yes, these are for you.” he replied and then he brought out a flower vase and an envelope.
I groaned. “Did Mr. Blackwood send this?’ I asked, already knowing what the answer to that question was.
The delivery guy smiled, he was quite handsome under the cover of his cap. “You guessed right, but still see for yourself. I am going to need you to sign here,” he said and handed me a piece of paper.
Knowing it was a formality to confirm that I have received the delivery, I didn’t bother to read it. I just signed and handed it back to him. “Here you go.”
“Alright Ma’am… Thank you, enjoy the rest of your day.” He nodded and then walked away, closing the door behind.
I first grabbed the flower and sniffed it, it did smell nice. Then I picked up the envelope and looked behind it; as expected, it had MB’s signature stamped to it. What does he want now?
I was hesitant about unveiling the content of the envelope because I knew Mr. Blackwood was unpredictable, what could be waiting for me in there?
Slowly, I tore it open and found a letter inside addressed to me. A letter? Who sends letters in this time and age? Now I was even more anxious, my heart racing. What couldn’t he just tell me over a text message?
I unfolded the letter and read through the first line in his voice.
“Hello Love…” He had begun in that accent that gave me the chills. Fuck! He was in my head already; I am never ridding myself of him.
I had to pause, avoiding seeing the line that followed by covering the next paragraph with my hand. I wanted to read the letter word for word, wanting everything to be a surprise, avoiding spoilers at every cost.
I know it is silly but this man knows how to get me excited, and that answers why he would send a handwritten letter rather than a text message.
“I was going to send this to your home but there is no doubt that you are back in the office. Don’t worry, I ain’t spying on you, I just know how stubborn you can be, you don’t listen to anyone, not even the doctor…”
I gasped. How rude! I can’t believe he dedicated two lines to insulting me before even talking about the purpose of his letter.
“Anyways, I feel like it is going to be a beautiful evening, and a beautiful evening deserves a beautiful woman on a beautiful date, so what do you say we make it happen? my club, 8pm, let's create memories.”
My cheeks flushed red while reading that line as I blushed hard, a little chuckle escaping my lips. Then I folded the letter and fell into deep thoughts.
I know I was hyped for this but I have been avoiding him lately and for good reason, I shouldn’t be lured by him at this point, if I just stay away from him long enough, he will give up on me.
I picked up my phone immediately and sent a text message to his number.
“Got your letter, I thought it was sweet, except you sent it to the wrong person. Don’t expect me tonight, but do have a beautiful evening.” I typed without a lot of hesitation, however I was quite reluctant to hit the send button, I did it eventually.
**
I had just ended a call with Jennifer who informed me that she was coming back to New York in a few hours. I couldn’t wait to see her, I had missed her a lot. Speaking of missing people, I was conflicted on what decision to take with Maxwell’s invitation.
Mr. Blackwood did not send a response to my rejection mail, he had not acknowledged it, so I had a feeling that he would still go on with his dinner plans. Should I stick to my plan and disappoint him?
I paced around my sitting room exposed in a night wear, I was already preparing for bed at a few minutes past 7. What else was I supposed to do? I was bored to death but I didn’t want to go out with Mr. Blackwood.
I turned to the television, what am I doing with my life? Watching serial kil^ers documentaries, this makes no sense. Am I making the right choice by pushing MB away?
**
** Omniscient Narrator **
Disappointment gnawed at Maxwell like a persistent weed. The club, which was typically bustling with activity, felt enormous and empty. He had ordered candles, scattered rose petals like a blush across the crisp white tablecloths, even hired a jazz trio for a touch of old-world charm.
Now, it was past 9pm, and she was yet to be here. He thought about giving her a call but didn’t want to look desperate. Maxwell Blackwood was about to call it a night, the ache in his heart mirroring the emptiness of the dance floor.
“Cheers,” he muttered to himself coldly as he lifted the glass of red wine and poured it into his mouth. Perhaps he should just get drunk and go to bed, he has done his best.
While he was still standing with his back to the entrance, a sound snagged his attention. Footsteps, light and hesitant, echoed on the stairs. Maxwell’s heart flipped, wondering if she did come or he was preparing himself for another disappointment.
“Won’t you save some for me?” He heard that melodious voice that made his heart jump like a teenager.
Mr. Blackwood turned around slowly, he couldn’t believe his eyes. She was really standing there, bathed in the warm glow of the red lights. Annabel!
His breath hitched. The air itself seemed to shimmer around her. The simple black dress she wore clung to her curves like a lover's whisper, its fabric glinting with a thousand tiny stars.
A single pearl necklace, lying at the hollow of her throat, was the only adornment she needed. Her silky brown hair, unlike usual, was swept up in an elegant chignon, revealing the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the luminous pools of her large eyes.
For a moment, Maxwell couldn't speak, couldn't move. She was like a vision, a dream materialized under the soft candlelight. The disappointment on his face vanished, replaced by a warmth that spread through him like wildfire.
He watched, mesmerized, as she walked towards him, her smile hesitant yet brilliant. The air around them crackled with unspoken emotions, the silence heavier than any words.
Finally, she reached the table. "Hey, sorry I'm late," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
But Maxwell barely heard her. All he saw was the woman standing before him, an icon of elegance and an epitome of beauty, only the sight of her had lightened his mood and the buzz from the alcohol made everything much better. Maybe this evening would not be the disappointment he thought it to be.
TBC!!