“Dinner tomorrow? Let me make it up to you. – Theo”
Alessia sighed, setting the note on the table beside the flowers. This was the third bouquet in as many days. Each one had come with a different request—coffee, lunch, a stroll through the park—but Alessia had ignored them all. She had tried to push Theo out of her mind, convincing herself that their connection was fleeting, a momentary lapse in judgment.
But the persistent flowers and sweet messages were beginning to chip away at her resolve.
That evening, Alessia sat in her office, the bouquet of roses perched on the corner of her desk. She stared at her phone, Theo’s number glaring back at her from the screen. Her finger hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to respond.
It’s just dinner, she told herself. What’s the harm?
Before she could overthink it, she typed out a quick message:
“Alright. One dinner. But don’t think this means anything.”
She hesitated for a second before hitting send. Almost immediately, her phone buzzed with a reply.
“It’ll mean everything, Cinderella. I’ll pick you up at 7.”
***
Alessia stood in front of her closet, staring at the rows of dresses as if they were the most perplexing puzzle she’d ever encountered. The nerves in her stomach were doing somersaults, and the clock ticking on her nightstand only added to the pressure.
She groaned, pulling out a sleek emerald-green dress and holding it against herself. “Too much? Not enough?” she muttered, glancing at the mirror.
Just then, Pamela burst into the room, her hands full of makeup bags and styling tools. “I’m here to save the day!” she announced, setting her things on Alessia’s bed. “Step away from the closet, Cinderella. It’s makeover time.”
Alessia raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’m going to prom.”
Pamela grinned mischievously. “Prom was years ago. This is grown-up prom, and the stakes are much higher. You’re having dinner with Theo Deveraux. The childhood nemesis turned… what exactly?”
“Just dinner,” Alessia said quickly, shaking her head. “Let’s not make this a thing.”
Pamela smirked as she pulled out a curling iron. “Oh, sweetie, it’s already a thing.”
Pamela sifted through Alessia’s closet like a treasure hunter searching for gold. She pulled out a fitted black dress with a high slit. “This one. It says, ‘I’m sophisticated, but I could ruin your life if I wanted to.’”
“Too dramatic,” Alessia said, shaking her head.
Pamela rolled her eyes and tossed the dress onto the bed. “Fine, fine. What about this red one? It’s classy but still spicy. Theo won’t know what hit him.”
“I don’t want to hit him,” Alessia said with a laugh. “It’s just dinner, Pamela. Stop trying to make it sound like a romance novel.”
Pamela sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun. Fine. I’ll find you something ‘just dinner’ appropriate.”
She pulled out a sleek navy dress and held it up. “This. It’s understated but stunning. Plus, it’ll make your eyes pop.”
Alessia hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, fine. But no crazy makeup.”
“Deal,” Pamela said, already rifling through her makeup bag.