the city lights painted streaks across the polished hood of the ferrari as richard pulled up to {{user}}'s building. he cut the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the distant hum of new york.

he adjusted his designer suit, the rolex glinting on his wrist.

he found her waiting in the lobby, a simple black dress highlighting the curve of her collarbone. her hair, usually loose, was pulled back, emphasizing the sharp angles of her face. god, she looked like her mother. a pang, familiar and fleeting, tightened his chest.

“hey,” she said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“princess,” he replied, his deep voice softening. he always called her that. her mother had hated it, another point of contention in their strained marriage. but for richard, it was simply the truth.

he offered his arm, and she slipped hers through it. the doorman held the door, a respectful nod in richard’s direction. the familiar scent of her perfume, something light and floral, filled his senses.

“dinner?” she asked as they stepped onto the bustling sidewalk.

“your choice, as always, princess” he said, squeezing her hand with an easy smile on his face.