Chapter Text
The alarm rang disturbingly, waking you from your slumber. You opened one eye slightly to peek on the bright screen reading ‘7:00 AM’.
Shit, you thought, hastily throwing off the blanket from your body, getting up from the warm bed into the cold room.
It was only October but freezing cold.
This was going to ruin somebody’s mood, you snickered to yourself, thinking of your best friend and her partying plans.
You started to get ready, moving slowly but steady, one thing at a time. For more your brain was not functioning enough - it was, after all, an ungodly hour to wake up to. One last look in the mirror and you were good to go. A black hoodie, washed out mom jeans, black sneakers, and a black cap accompanied by a messy ponytail. Comfortingly casual for the task ahead.
Today was the day. Today was your birthday.
Turning thirty made you contemplate your life choices (and the break up a few months ago you had to go through). You had promised yourself new habits: you would get up early everyday from now on, get a coffee, work, socialize, maybe jog even.
You grabbed your bag, laptop, and car keys, and headed to your favorite café, ‘Tav’s’. It was a cozy spot in the city with large windows perfect for finishing a script. You ordered your favorite caramel macchiato (extra caramel, naturally) and sat by the window, headphones in, laptop open, and began to type furiously.
In those past few weeks you indulged in self pity, binge eating ice cream with wine (and yeah, you thought that’s just a TV thing, but found out that’s really comforting) and watching Korean dramas. You’ve been obsessing lately over your new TV-husband, since your supposed real one left - your solace of a decade-long relationship turned to ashes.
You mean, how could he just leave after so many years? He’d thrown it all away, everything you’d built up together as if it were nothing. You thought you would marry him, maybe start a family even. Then one night he came home reeking of alcohol, crying that he couldn’t do this anymore; that he fell in love. It felt like a punch to the gut, it was disgusting.
You stopped the typing and closed your laptop. The sorrow was getting back at you, leaving a bitter clump in your throat. Tears started building up in your eyes and you couldn’t concentrate anymore. The only thing to lift your spirits would be getting back home to your TV-husband, and eating ice cream while getting plastered.
Just as you were about to get up and leave, a gentle touch on your shoulder pulled you out of your pity movie. You took one earphone out and turned to the stranger.
“Excuse me, is this seat still free?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to you.
You managed a smile, not really looking at him as you stammered, “Yeah, sure,” and reopened your laptop.
No. Pull yourself together, you thought.
And anyway, you had a deadline to meet, you reminded yourself. Losing your job on top of a relationship in the span of a couple of months was not an option.
As you were about to start pounding on the keyboard again, you heard a quiet but deep chuckle, sounding sultry in your headphone free ear. When you followed the source of the delightful sound with your eyes, you were almost startled.
The stranger sitting before you, eyeing you amused was stunningly handsome.
Noticing your attention (the obvious stare), he put down his cup of black coffee, raising one hand apologetically. “Oh, please excuse me. I was just wondering what kind of task deserves such loud dedication.”
Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you muttered sipping from your coffee, still staring at the man in front of you.
It was almost frightening how attractive he was; he had a tall and slender, yet muscular build, a striking face with chiseled features, high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His eyes were a soft honey-colored brown, yet something was so intense about them and his hair was dark, slicked-back and neatly styled, contributing to his refined appearance.
The cherry on top: he wore a double-breasted, charcoal-grey suit that fit his body perfectly. That was precisely what you imagined your ideal type to look like, except for the noticeable age-gap of course, since you never thought yourself to be into older men.
“Do I have something on my face?” He asked, clearly entertained, making you realize you were staring too much.
“No. I’m sorry.” You smiled, averting your gaze, your new target the coffee cup in front of you. You should have come up with some witty pick-up line, (if that was even possible, given you haven’t been in the dating scene for quite the time) but it just didn’t feel right.
“Don’t be.” He chuckled again. His deep and velvety voice only adding to your attraction.
You glanced back at him, a smile creeping up your lips as you replied, “The task requiring such loud dedication is script-editing.” He raised an eyebrow, asking, “You don’t happen to be an editor at a publishing house?”
You hesitated for a moment but decided there was no harm in telling a stranger about your profession.
Taking another sip of your coffee, you replied, “I am, actually. Why do you ask?”
“Wonderful! Allow me to introduce myself-” He was interrupted by a ringtone that sounded like Ludovico Einaudi’s ‘Divenire’. He excused himself, taking the urgent call, and left the café.
The universe seemed intent on making you cry today.
Screw it.
It was your birthday and you didn‘t want to sink into self-pity anymore. You put your headphone back into your ear and started to assault your keyboard once again.
You would finish this fucking script, you would go to the mall, buy the sluttiest dress you could find and you would go to that damned party your best friend was bugging you about for ages, no matter the weather.
Because two things you learned from this encounter - you were ready to go out again and you would take what you wanted.
It was slowly getting evening, and you finally made it back home. You were at the end of your rope, unmotivated, hungry, and tired.
Where had your enthusiasm from this morning gone, when you thought you could dive back into the dating scene? It had vanished during shopping. Over the years, you resolved to online shopping so you forgot how it was like to shop in person - it was utterly exhausting!
You were just about to throw yourself onto the bed when your phone rang. It was your best friend Jenevelle (or how you called her: ‘Jenny’).
“I don’t want to hear any excuses. It’s not too cold, no one is waiting for you at home, you won’t be working that late anyway, and the most valid reason: it’s your damn birthday!” She sounded like she was a mix of angry, annoyed, and excited, but you knew she was smiling on the other end.
“Alright,” you said without a fight, smiling yourself. At the other end, you heard nothing for a brief moment, then Jenny said, “I'll be there in forty minutes,” and hung up.
After forty minutes, just as promised, the doorbell rang. Not a minute too early or too late, you smiled to yourself as you slipped into your sparkling black Jimmy Choos, took the matching clutch, and went out the door.
You and Jenny looked fabulous, so fabulous that when you arrived at the club, you were let in immediately.
You hadn’t felt the thrill of being noticed like this in a long time. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had received such attention. Your ex… No, today you didn’t want to waste any more thoughts on him.
As you entered the club through heavy black velvet curtains, you were immediately enveloped by the pulse of the music and the glimmer of lights. The place was outrageously luxurious. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, two bars, each stretched along the walls opposite to each other, stocked with premium spirits and in the middle a grand dance floor, a sea of dancing bodies - everywhere you looked there were gold accents, polished black marble and opulent drapery.
An image of the stranger you met today in the café appeared in your mind. He would fit perfectly in this scenery, you thought.
You immediately got a drink and plunged into the crowd on the dance floor. However, it didn't take long before Jenny was ‘stolen’ away (and that was completely fine because you both wanted to get laid tonight).
The only problem was that you weren’t drunk enough yet to be cheerful and outgoing. That was the difference between the two of you. You had a rather cooler expression (a resting bitch face) that scared off the people around you.
So you sat at the bar, aiming to become at least cheerful, if not completely happy, even if it might cost you your weekly grocery budget.
While you drank alone, everyone stared and smiled at you, but no one approached. Then, just as you began to debate whether it might be best to go home, you noticed a man had positioned himself next to you.
You could hardly believe your eyes when you recognized the stranger from the café. And it seemed he had noticed you too, as he turned his attention to you.
“If this isn’t fate,” he said with a mischievous smile, extending his hand. “My name is Raphael.” As you reached out to shake it, he turned your hand so he could kiss your knuckles.
You blushed slightly, warmth spreading in your chest and at the spot where his lips had just touched. “Charlize,” you said, trying to maintain your cool.
“Are you all alone, Charlize?” He emphasized your name with an indescribable tone and showed his pearly whites. You couldn't deny it, his voice was fucking sexy.
“At the moment, yes,” you said, finishing your cocktail and sliding the glass away from you.
He let out a “Hmm,” tapping a finger to his lips. “Perhaps we should continue our conversation from earlier? Over a drink, of course. Care to join?”
He gestured in the direction he presumably wanted you to go, and you followed, as he placed his hand on your lower back (which felt a bit too intimate given your backless dress) leading you towards the stairs to the VIP rooms, away from the commotion and thundering music.
The warmth of his palm against your cool skin drove you crazy, craving for something more.
As you climbed the stairs, your ankle gave out. Raphael caught you, pulling you close, your faces only inches apart (what cliché, but you didn’t care). You could feel his breath on your skin and smell his intoxicating scent - cherries, musk, with a rich note, almost like burnt caramel.
Something inside you snapped.
After staring into each other’s eyes and being pressed together for just a second too long, you wanted him. Here and now.
You grabbed his neck and pulled him closer, pressing your lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss. His hips collided with yours, pinning you against the wall. Heat pooled between your legs as you felt the pressure of his crotch against you, seeking friction and driving you crazy.
But suddenly he pulled away.
Raphael looked at you, his eyes dark and sinister. “I think we’re going to have a long talk tonight.”
Oh, you would devour each other.