Chapter 2 Wine And Confessions

DEMETRIA

Same night, minutes later...

I made it home just in time, barely kicking off my shoes at the entrance before Anastasia showed up. The hum of the city outside fades behind the door. Even as I shut the door behind me, the memory of the man outside Nobu lingered.

My apartment is a two-bedroom, cozy place, located here in West Hollywood. In the living area, a few potted plants lined the windowsill, their leaves catching the fading light, and illuminating the counter in the kitchen, and the soft, beige couch waiting for me to collapse onto it. I could hear the faint hum of the fridge in the corner of my kitchen. Nothing extravagant, but it felt like home, a quiet corner of the world where I could breathe.

As I walked to the kitchen to set out the meal from Nobu, I heard her cheerful, slightly dramatic voice calling my name.

"Demetria!" she chirped, stepping inside like she owned the place. I screamed; the place was so quiet before she entered.

"Anas! You scared me!"

"Sorry..." She said, smiling sheepishly. I groaned inwardly. If I haId a chance of getting my spare key back, I would, but she refuses, always saying she'll keep it in case of an emergency.

We shed our outer layers in a hurry. Flurry jackets were tossed over the chairs, with her kicking her shoes aside, and collapsing onto the couch. I pulled a bottle of red wine from the kitchen, and we poured glasses for ourselves. The rich, fruity aroma hit my senses, mingling with the faint smell of the dinner I'd hastily reheated. It felt like a small luxury, one of the few indulgences I allowed myself in my busy, messy life.

Somewhere between the sarcastic quips of the movie Wednesday and the twisted little plotlines, I found the courage to dive into the topic. The contract. I told her everything, leaving nothing out, no hesitation this time.

"Wow!" Anastasia's eyes went wide. She practically leapt off the couch in her excitement, waving her hands like she'd just seen fireworks. "This offer is insane! Fifty thousand dollars?! Desserts at a charity gala? Demetria, do you realize how huge that is?"

I watched her energy with mild amusement, though my mind was elsewhere. "Mrs. Charlotte Whitfield is her name," I said, keeping my tone neutral but careful.

"What?!" She shrieked, her voice loud enough to make me jump, springing back onto the couch with an intensity that made her hair whip around her face. "Do you... Do you know who she is?"

I blinked at her, feeling a little out of my depth. "What do you mean? I don't,"

Anastasia shook her head so hard it looked like it might fall off. "Girl, you live under a rock! Charlotte Whitfield? She's married to one of the wealthiest men in the world. A trillionaire, Demetria! I mean, he comes from old money. Diamonds, investments, the works! Their family is legendary in social circles, and their kids... don't even get me started. They're celebrity royalty."

I leaned back, letting the information sink in. My hand absently traced the rim of my wine glass. "I don't have time to see what's going on in the media; I'm always in the kitchen, and I've not lived here all my life."

"Of course," she scoffed, rolling her eyes with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "The world is spinning, and you're spinning sugar and frosting instead. Typical Demetria."

I shrugged and glanced toward the television, the show's eerie soundtrack weaving into the background. My mind, though, was elsewhere. I replayed the face of the handsome stranger I'd encountered earlier today. The sharp lines of his jaw, the way his eyes held a glint of something dangerous and alluring, the effortless way he carried himself. Even sitting here, I could picture him vividly, as if his image had been etched into my memory. Lucky bastard, I thought, shaking my head subtly, trying to snap myself out of it.

A few minutes passed, and the kind filled with that strange, tense quiet that comes when someone's thoughts are far away. Anastasia's patience, however, had limits. She reached over and gave my shoulder a firm shake.

"Okay...so why do you look like you're figuring something out?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "You've been zoned out since I came in. What's going on? Spill it, girl. Start talking."

I sighed, letting my shoulders slump. "Okay..." I muttered, unsure how much I should reveal.

She leaned closer, her elbows resting on her knees, and gave me that expectant look she always did when she wanted me to confess my secrets. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment.

I recounted the encounter with the stranger, starting from the very beginning, the collision, the sharp tone in his voice. I described the way he had looked at me, that mixture of irritation and intrigue that made my skin tingle. I admitted, reluctantly, that despite our clash, I'd felt... attracted. Annoyingly attracted.

"I can't stop thinking about him," I admitted quietly, more to myself than to Anastasia. "The way he looked at me... it wasn't just interest. There was something... else."

Anastasia leaned back and studied me with a sly grin. "Ohhh... now I get it. That's what's been going on. That look on your face wasn't stress, it was pining. Oh, girl." She shook her head, half-laughing. "So you're distracted by a hot stranger, huh?"

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "He... he's frustrating. Arrogant. And infuriating in the best possible way. I don't like him. I shouldn't like him. But I do."

She laughed, nudging me playfully. "Arrogant, huh? That's one way to put it. What happened? There's more to spill, say it!"

I peeked through my fingers, giving her a scowl that wasn't entirely convincing.

"You should take a picture - it lasts longer,". I said, mimicking his voice. "That's what he told me."

Anastasia let out a long whistle. "Ooooohhh, this is going to be fun," she said with a grin. "Sounds like a classic hate-to-love situation to me."

"Please," I scoffed. "I just hope that I never see him again."

"Sure, sure," she said, waving her hand dismissively, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Tell me more. Did he notice you? Did he say anything, anything at all?"

I recount the brief, loaded glances, the subtle tension in the air when our eyes met, the way his voice lingered in my mind even after I'd walked away. Every description made my heart pound faster, every memory both infuriating and thrilling.

Anastasia leaned back, crossing her arms. "Girl... I see it. You're already wrapped around his finger."

"I am not!" I protested, even though my racing heart betrayed me. "It's complicated. And besides..." I paused, taking a deep breath. "...he's from a completely different world than mine. Like a rich guy, old money, perfect life, while I'm... me. Just... desserts and chaos."

She laughed, nudging me playfully. "Sounds like a story waiting to happen. You're going to bump into him again, I just know it. Mark my words."

I rolled my eyes, but even as I tried to argue, a small part of me couldn't deny it. There was something about him that drew me in, a pull I couldn't quite explain. And maybe, just maybe, the idea of a billionaire with a rough edge wasn't as impossible as I told myself it was.

The room grew quieter as the episode on the television reached a particularly suspenseful moment. I leaned back into the couch, letting the weight of the wine and the day press against my shoulders. But even in the dim light, even in the cozy comfort of my apartment, I couldn't shake the thought of him, the stranger who had managed, in minutes, to upset my carefully ordered world.

Anastasia, sensing my distraction, nudged me again. "Hey. Snap out of it. You're acting like a lovesick fool already, and it's only been a few hours."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Maybe I am," I admitted, taking another sip of wine. "But I didn't ask for it. And I don't know what I'm going to do about it."

She grinned knowingly. "Well, lucky for you, girl, you've got me to plot out your next steps. And believe me... It's going to be fun."

I let myself smile, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement. This wasn't just a random encounter. It was the start of something complicated, something electric. And whether I liked it or not... I was already caught in the gravity of it.