Evening Affair Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

They turned around to leave the event “And for the record I met Tristan very recently, we never had an affair when his wife was alive.” The stopped on their tracks and turned to look at me. The first speaker looked like she was thd head of their little group because they just nodded their head when she spoke. They walked out of the party but Tristan's mother was still very upset, I guess she was wondering what they all think of her son because of what they said. I raised my head and sighted Tristan standing on the stairs, he must have heard everything we said. Our eyes met and he rushed back upstairs, I guess he’s too embarrassed to come downstairs after that display from his mother’s guest.

Gala Evening The grand ballroom shimmered with elegance, crystal chandeliers refracting light across the polished floor. Guests mingled, laughter and conversation filling the air. Adeline, resplendent in her red gown, stood near the bar, sipping champagne. Sofia joined her, eyes sparkling. "Wow, you look stunning!" Sofia whispered. Adeline smiled. "Thanks, Sofia. You do too." Professor McClone approached, shaking Adeline's hand. "Congratulations on your award, Adeline. Well-deserved."

--- The Dinner Later that evening, Alex and Clara sat at a private table in one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. The place was elegant—dimly lit, with rich wood paneling and soft jazz music playing in the background. The atmosphere was perfect for a quiet dinner, and yet, the air between them felt anything but peaceful.

It took me about ten minutes to drive to the elusive bar known as Down The Rabbit Hole. My eyes landed on Wren as soon as I walked in. He was leaning against a pool table as he took a swig of his beer. He also happened to be talking to a very beautiful blond woman. Oh crap. Could this night get any worse? I turned around and tried to make my escape. I never should have come out here. If I had a choice, I would rewind this entire day. I cursed under my breath as I fumbled with my keys. “Cath! Cath, wait!”

So quiet, but sharp. "Isn't this you, darling? Yesterday evening, twelve minutes past eleven at night, at the Hotel Tree Tycoon."

Aria asked Claire. Claire looked at Aria as if she is crazy. "Of course I will. Where will I go when my friend is going to attend her first official social event" Claire made a 'duh' sound. Aria smiled at her gratefully. "Let's meet for lunch" they parted ways with the promise to meet for lunch. Aria turned towards the elevators to go to the 5 floors, where the event is going to take place this evening. But her eyes were stuck on Aiden's door.

> "Oh, it is a good morning. Check your phone." Curious, I opened the link he sent. AARON SINCLAIR AND A MYSTERY WOMAN? That was the headline. The photo showed us outside Élan Noir last night—Venus leaning on me, me helping her into the car. Her face wasn’t fully visible, but mine? Crystal clear. The article speculated wildly: Aaron Sinclair was spotted outside the high-end Élan Noir restaurant. But he wasn’t alone. Who’s the mystery woman? Is New York’s most eligible bachelor finally off the market—or is this just one of his many conquests?

Rain slicked the alley outside club Vesper, turning the neon signs into rivers of pink and blue. Aria Cole pulled her hood tighter and checked the time on her phone, 11:58 p.m. Two minutes to midnight The tip had been maddenly vague:Valente's people meet on Thursdays. Black entrance. Midnight. Vague, but enough to drag her across the city on a night when any sane person would be asleep. She shifted her weight, the camera strap biting into her shoulder. Months of chasing this story had taught her patience. It had also taught her how quickly patience could turn to obsession

he said smugly, betraying the fireworks sparkling inside him. “All right, that’s settled then. Let’s do that Friday and over the weekend. Are you good with that?” “Sure!” After their quick meal, Ellie drove back to the shop. She rolled down the window to let the cold breeze embrace them and comb her hair. “Drop by my hotel, please.” “Ok.”

And then, last week, she started arranging dinner dates for me. Tonight my date was the only child to a couple who owns domestic and international airlines. “Good evening.” I greeted Emily Jones, my date that evening. She came into the roof deck of the function building inside the Palace, perfectly decorated for a romantic dinner. I put down the documents I was reading earlier to welcome her. “Good evening, His Excellency.” She greeted me shyly. I motioned her to the table set for two. A world-acclaimed violinist played in our background. Candle lights surround our table. I grimaced at the thought that my good assistant was the one who prepared all of this.