Chapter 0007

The elevator doors opened directly into the Russell restaurant. And as expected, the restaurant was beautiful. The Chandelier hung like icicles dipped in gold, casting soft glows across the white linen- covered tables.

There was no loud chaos, no drunken crowd. It was elegant. Business men and women sat in their private booth, speaking in low tunes. It was obvious this restaurant wasn't for ordinary people. It was for the elite.

“You must have wasted a lot of money.” Rachel said to Elara who only chuckled in response.

“This way ma'am.” A young hostess said, guiding the two ladies to a booth. Rachel appreciated the hostess with a smile, sinking into the soft couch. The leather was cool under her thighs.

Russell restaurant was the kind of restaurant where reservations were booked about weeks in advance, and money alone couldn't get you in.

“What do you both like to eat?” The hostess said warmly, with a smile.

“Rachel, are you going to eat now?” Elara asked.

“Just get us wine. Thank you.” Rachel said. The hostess nods and leave. “This place is so comfortable. Thank you so much Elara.”

“You don't have to thank me, Rach, you've done more than this. Let's just give yourself a treat, forget your shitty husband.”

The hostess returned, placing the wine on the table with two glass tumblers, helping the ladies to open it, before leaving them. Elara poured drink into her cup and Rachel's.

She smiled warmly, “Happy twenty-five years, Rachel. Wishing you a long life and prosperity. This toast is to you.”

Rachel blushed, “Thank you so much, Elara. At least you're the only one who remembered I had a birthday.”

Elara’s brow creased. “So your ex-husband didn't even remember. How dumb of him!”

Rachel laughed slightly. She had not properly divorced Bryce and Elara had tagged him as her ex-husband. “I'm not yet divorced.” She said, amused.

“In my world, you are.” Elara took a sip from the wine. Midway through the toast, Elara frowned and placed her glass on the table. “I need to use the bathroom. I'll be fast.”

Rachel nodded, “No problem. Don't waste much time there, you're the boss here.”

By the time Elara had gone, Rachel sunk inside the couch, taking a sip from the wine. This place made her forget her problems…her health, her family and her infertility.

“Wrong table.” A man said.

Rachel glanced to the side and froze. The man sat at the booth beside her, alone. His fingers curled around a wine glass as he stared into the blood red liquid like it owed him answers.

A crisp black suit hugged his frame, his hair was dark and perfectly styled, and not a strand was out of place. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

Rachel might have looked away— should have looked away— if he hadn't looked up right then.

Their eyes met. His eyes were gray and cold.

“Wrong table,” he repeated, his voice low and controlled.

Rachel blinked, “I— I'm sorry?”

He tilted his head, his gaze drifting over her in one slow, deliberate sweep. “You're sitting at my table. Did I stutter?”

Rachel's heart skipped. “No, I— uh, the hostess brought me and my friend here. I think there has been a mix-up.”

“I don't care what you think,” he said, his tone hardening. “Get up.”

The word struck Rachel like a slap. She could feel heat crawling up her neck and spreading into her cheeks.

Just then, the hostess returned. Her smile faltered the second she saw his face.

“Oh no, Mr. Morello.” She gasped. “I— I am terribly sorry. That table was meant for you, she was supposed to sit on the one just across—”

Morello. That name snapped into Rachel's mind. Dominic Morello, the real estate tycoon. The man behind half the city's skyline, and most especially—

Bryce's sworn enemy.

His eyes stayed fixed on Rachel. “She'll stay,” he said suddenly.

The hostess was startled. “Sir, I—”

He shot her a warning glare, making her mute. The hostess nodded nervously and backed away.

Rachel's chest tightened, where the hell is Elara? How would she face this man alone? Worst of it all, he was her husband's enemy.

Dominic sat on the chair across from Rachel, where Elara had been, without asking. He set his wine glass down gently, folding his hands on the table.

“Why… Why did you tell me to stay?” Rachel stuttered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “The moment I recognized your face, I knew you had to stay.” He leaned in. “The submissive wife of the Voss family. You're the wife of my very good friend.” He said sarcastically.

Rachel knew the meaning behind those words. She picked up her phone to call Elara but she wasn't picking up.

“What is your name?” Dominic asked, voice calm.

Rachel's gaze snapped up, “Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because Bryce always kept you hidden while kissing other girls, despite being married.” He said flatly.

Rachel's chest twisted. This was a painful truth that she hated to admit. She looked away from him, biting her lower lip in embarrassment.

Dominic sensed she was hurt, but he continued. “It has come to my knowledge that he even got one pregnant. How did you feel when you heard it?”

He leans forward, folding his hands on the table. His sleeves shifted, just enough to expose the expensive silver cufflinks.

“My feelings are none of your business.” Rachel said coldly.

Dominic scoffed. “You're yet to tell me your name—”

Rachel interrupted. “Please, don't cross lines.”

He smirked. “You're pained. It's not my fault though,” he said. “You should tell your husband to try and control his—”

The elevator doors opened, and Bryce walked in with some business associate, the moment he spotted Rachel with Dominic, anger boiled in his veins.

“Rachel!” He called out, walking over to her in rage. On reaching her side, he pulled her out of her chair. “What are you doing here?”

Dominic glanced between the both of them, “Rachel. I finally got your name from your husband.”

Just then, Elara comes in with a birthday cake. When she notices the tense mood and Bryce's grip tight against Rachel's wrist, she walks over to them.

“What the heck is going on here?”