Maybe I might actually like Kate

Domenico

The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the room, turning every glass, plate, and fork into instruments of light, casting prismatic shadows over my brooding form—shadows that seemed to mock the turmoil twisting inside me. The golden hue of the restaurant's walls was supposed to provide a comforting embrace, yet tonight, it felt as if they were closing in, suffocating me with the scent of gourmet dishes and the murmur of contented diners. I sat there, an island of discontent amidst a sea of luxury, flanked by my ever-watchful bodyguards who stood like silent sentinels.

"Sir," one of them murmured, his voice barely breaking the hum of conversation around us, "will you need anything while you wait?" As if I were waiting for anything meaningful, but nah! My own doom!

I glanced up from my clenched fists, knuckles turned white, the fine lines of my suit doing nothing to dispel the disarray of my spirit. "No," I replied, my voice a soft growl that belied the tempest within. "just...