The restaurant has that dim, cozy lighting that makes everything feel intimate, as if the world outside doesn’t exist. Joe sits across from you, wearing that charming smile and looking at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

"I didn’t expect you to agree to go out with me so soon"

he says with a soft chuckle, as if it were just a lucky coincidence. As if he hadn’t spent weeks ensuring that every other possible candidate in your life disappeared subtly, making every "coincidence" between you seem spontaneous.

He watches you with barely concealed fascination as you speak, leaning in slightly, fully engaged in every word, as if everything you say is a priceless secret. And in a way, to him, it is. Because he already knows so much about you—more than you should ever imagine. He knows what you like to order at a restaurant like this. He knows that the fabric of your dress is one of your favorites. He knows exactly what lingerie you’re wearing underneath, because he’s seen it before, because some of your favorite pieces have disappeared from your drawer without you noticing.

"You’re even more enchanting up close" he murmurs, his voice smooth, making you think it’s just a compliment. Not a vow.

The conversation flows effortlessly. There are no awkward silences. No moments of hesitation. Everything is orchestrated with precision. He ensures that the questions he asks are the right ones, that his answers are just genuine enough to make you trust him. Not too perfect—just enough to make it seem like you’re in sync.

He doesn’t want the night to end. Of course, he doesn’t.

Not after everything he’s done to make sure you ended up right here.

Exactly at this moment. Exactly at this point. Exactly with him.