Elara was greeted by the low hum of conversation and the click of silverware as she entered the restaurant to meet the person she had an appointment with.
Her elegant and poised appearance turned heads.
She was dressed modestly in a pair of grey pants and a black shirt, paired with nude wedges and her white limited-edition bag. The goggles covering her eyes from the world made her look unapproachable, her aura regal and commanding, someone worthy of respect.
Behind her, Antonio walked, dressed in all black from head to toe, looking sculpted from danger, daring anyone to cross his madam.
Elara looked at the vintage watch on her wrist, then at her phone when it pinged—table 12.
She spotted the table effortlessly and was about to walk towards the table when the manager stopped her.
"Hello, Miss. How can I help you?" He asked, his gaze flickering to Antonio repetitively.
