Perfect! Here's Chapter Ten – Presence Day, with your original story kept word-for-word, but enriched with context, Caroline's thoughts, and sensory details woven naturally between the sentences. I've stopped exactly at Nathaniel's last line.
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Chapter Ten
Caroline
Past – continue
"I have two more of them," she said proudly. My eyes widened. I did not like that one bit, but I knew most students kept rich older men to get through school; for this reason, I kept my judgment to myself.
She waited for me to say something, but when I didn't, she sighed.
"I know that is overdoing it, but I need the money," she added, moving off me.
"Come on, let's go get dressed. You know Phillip said we should not keep him waiting," I said, drawing her attention back to me.
She waved my words aside. "Don't worry, he will wait," she said, walking toward her closet and motioning for me to follow.
We both changed into gowns. Safarat wore a pink baby lace mini gown, and I wore a blue one that mirrored her length and style. Both gowns belonged to her, and she said she was only borrowing me for the night, which I accepted gratefully.
When we exited her bedroom, we found Chief Phillip asleep on the couch. Safarat woke him with a light push. The chief apologized for dozing off and complimented her dress before leading us out of the house.
The ride to the venue was brief, but my mind kept wandering. I tried to focus on the party, but the elegance of the night, Safarat's confidence, and her unapologetic pragmatism in life lingered in my thoughts. I admired her ease in commanding attention and handling situations with calculated poise.
I watched as she carefully adjusted her gown in the rearview mirror, making sure every detail was perfect. Even in casual conversation, she had a way of making everything seem effortless—her laugh, the way she moved her hands, the light in her eyes when she teased me. I tried to imitate some of that poise, but her presence made me keenly aware of my own insecurities.
By the time we arrived, Safarat had already sized up the venue, noting where decorations should go, the flow of people, and how the seating should look. I marveled at her ability to plan and execute with such calm authority, all while still making it feel playful and fun. I couldn't help but laugh when she nudged me to straighten my gown, reminding me that "presentation matters, even for guests."
Even as I absorbed her world, I reminded myself not to get too attached to her way of living. Safarat had her life figured out, and I had mine. I was grateful to be along for the night, borrowing her style and confidence, and soaking in the experience.
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Present
Back at the flower shop, the bell rang, and I straightened in surprise. The crisp sound cut through the low hum of background music and rustling petals, and my posture stiffened. My mouth almost dropped to the floor as I looked at the man who had just walked in. Flawless, tall, and exuding an aura of quiet authority, he paused at the entrance. Even the soft sunlight spilling through the shop's window seemed to highlight him, as if he belonged to a different world.
The moment his eyes met mine, a confident smile curved his lips, and he stepped in with assured grace. His presence filled the room, commanding it without effort, making every flower and ribbon feel like part of a stage set for him.
"Hello," he greeted smoothly.
"Get a grip," I muttered under my breath, trying to steady myself. Most men who visited the shop were either married or already attached, so crushing on him was dangerous territory. The thought that I could be so affected by someone I'd never met before made my stomach flutter in ways I tried to suppress.
"Welcome, sir. How may I help you?" I asked quickly, hiding my racing thoughts behind professional politeness. I tried to focus on the polished wood counter, the arrangement of vases, anything to keep my pulse steady.
He glanced briefly around the shop before returning his gaze to me. "By giving me, you," he said in a low, teasing tone, and my heart skipped. There was something magnetic in the way he spoke, a presence that made it impossible to look away. I felt the air thicken, a subtle pull that made the world around him blur.
He laughed, seeing my reaction. "Just joking, but I got you. That means you are open to a date," he added, his amusement tangible, a warmth that contrasted with the crisp professionalism of the shop.
"As much as I—and most women—would love to, I know someone brought you here, so how would you like to dazzle the very special one?" I asked, concealing the flutter in my chest. Every word was a practiced calm, though my fingers itched to rearrange the flowers just to prove I was in control here.
He frowned momentarily, as if unaccustomed to being denied or resisted. That intrigued me. There was an intensity in the way he looked at me, a subtle weighing of my expression and posture, and it made the air between us taut with possibility.
"So, what would you like?" I asked, offering the catalogue.
Without a word, he took it, flipping through page by page with focused attention. Finally, he looked up, his eyes unreadable. "You see, I am not used to buying flowers. I usually take my dates out and spend, but this person is not my date. I thought flowers would suffice. Someone recommended your shop, so I came."
Looking unsure, he continued, "You see, my darling, I am at a loss here as I do not know what flower to give. These flowers here are all romantic. I wouldn't want her to have any idea." He finished looking at me, his eyes giving a message I could not read.
"Let me ask, why do you want to give her a flower?" I asked frantically, my mind racing with possibilities, each one more delicate than the last.
"She has been a very supportive P.A., and it is her birthday," he answered back, calmly, deliberately. The simplicity of the answer grounded me, yet stirred a quiet thrill—this was a man who thought carefully about gestures and meaning.
"Ok, then I can work with that. What is your budget?" I asked, masking the thrill of handling such a generous sum, trying to steady my own heartbeat.
He paused for some minutes, the silence stretching with a weight that made the shop feel smaller. Finally, he said, "Will half a million be okay? If not, I can add more."