After a while, I stood before the full-length mirror, dressed in a full-length body-hugging red gown that exposed my back. My face was covered in subtle but beautiful makeup and on my neck rested a diamond necklace.
I could barely recognize the lady in the mirror. Something felt wrong, like I wasn’t deserving of this.
My hands trailed the necklace, my eyes still fixed on my reflection in the mirror. “I can’t wear this,” I said, “it’s too expensive.”
The woman shot me a glacial look. “Why do poor people pray for luxury and when they get it, they toss it.” She snorted and brought out a perfume. Spraying it on me, she continued. “Mr. Adiaga can’t be seen having dinner with an impoverished-looking woman. He is not doing this for you, but for his reputation.”
It was hard to feel at ease, not when he said he wanted something from me. I still had no idea what a wealthy man wanted from a woman like me. I doubt it was just for my body, as he should have been able to have women prettier than me, richer and sexier.
With a deep inhale and sharp exhale, I trod out of my apartment. My eyes fell on a sleek black Mercedes car outside. The driver stepped out and opened the car door. After I entered the car, the driver shut the door and drove off.
.
.
After a twenty-minute drive, I arrived at the restaurant. My heel clinked against the pavement as I strutted towards the entrance—two double glass doors.
Inside, The air was laden with affluence, from the large golden chandelier to the black-marbled tile floor. The expensive art that hung on the white panel walls.
My eyes fell on Mr. Adiaga sitting on the east end corner. Mr. Adiaga was dressed in a black dress shirt. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny hands. His gaze fixed outside the expansive window.
“Good evening.” I settled in the seat across from him.
His brown eyes lingered on me as his lips curled up into a smile. “Good evening. You look beautiful.”
Despite the knots in my stomach, his compliment still managed to stir a warmth in me.
But I wasn’t going to let that warmth control me. “What do you want from me?” My face contorted into a soft frown.
Mr. Adiaga smacked his lips. “Not the patient type I see.” He gestured for a waitress to come over and when she did. He picked up the menu and turned to me. “What would you like to have?”