Novel & Cerita The Mystery Guest Nita Prose

Silence. The kitchen’s aroma drew her in, and she nearly groaned. This was a chef’s dream—gleaming wooden cabinets that blended with the natural surroundings, a massive stove, and double ovens that screamed serious cooking. Nita loved baking, though she wasn’t on Tally or Gerri’s level. She hadn’t poisoned anyone yet, so that was a win. This kitchen alone earned her mystery date points, even if he was a no-show.

“Is that from the Zoom groom?” Aria didn’t even look up as she unwrapped her fork. “Keep talking, and I’ll schedule you for a colonoscopy—with no anesthesia.” He raised both hands. “Damn, okay. Romantic and terrifying. Good to have you back.” When she was finally alone again, she looked at the food, then the note. The scent of saffron and cardamom filled the room. “Who are you really, Lucas?” she murmured. And why does part of me want to find out?

**** Miss Nina Gomez, welcome", a man with broad shoulders and a genuine smile on his face, stood up immediately as we entered the hall opposite Nina's office. She said that was where the guests were hosted in the entire building. It was like a conference hall but not too large to occupy more than 50 people. The building comprises offices of several people, ranging from artists, writers, poets, editors, freelancers, amongst others. The office Nina secured for herself on the last floor was more like a hideout. Most of the people there were upcoming, whereas Nina's name was widely known. I couldn't help but wonder why she loves to keep her affairs private. When I asked her before we entered th

she asked when she finally managed to stop laughing. "Sure," Nathan said as Joseph just started at Christy. Nathan allowed me to slide out of the booth helping me along the way. The brush of his hand on my own was doing things to me. I glanced nervously at him before I allowed Christy to pull me away. She pulled me to a corner of the club not bothering to wait she launched off into her interrogation. "Who are they?" "Remember the guy I told you I met in the restaurant today?" "Yeah the mystery guy"

"Gustavo appears to be the perfect host." We're all uneasy now. Giotto has his eyes glued to both of us, and Gustavo slowly lets go of my arm. I'm really regretting my decision now. I should never have come here. The only one who looks pleased with all this is Antonia. "Well, dear guests, I believe it's time to start dinner," Natalia jumps in, just to distract everyone from the painfully awkward moment. They all start filing towards the dining table, and I take the opportunity to turn my back to them. If this is how the night is going to be, then I have no business being here. I can't tolerate these sly comments and assumptions.

explained Heidi. “Is that so?” replied Juliet slightly enviously. “There’s no need for you to feel so dissatisfied… Regardless, I happened to mention the Ginseng King to her… Who would’ve thought that she would immediately express interest in buying it! She should be here any moment now!” said Heidi. While waiting, Heidi continued telling her daughters more about the mysterious guest. In short, while she didn’t know where the mysterious guest came from, she did know that the young woman was exceptionally rich.

Among the easygoing regular guards eating their dinner, these high-ranking suits look like they just wandered in from a supreme dominion war council. Deep confusion flickers across my face behind my lensless glasses. What the hell is Myles doing in a lower district diner like this? Before my brain can piece the mystery together, Nia Bello—ever the cheerful host—hurries over to the door with a welcoming grin on his face. "Looking to eat some good meat, gentlemen?"

After all, in this world, appearances are everything, and I intend to master the game. *Nina* I just emerged from the premiere of a captivating documentary directed by a remarkable woman named Esme. After the screening, I watched her interview and, feeling inspired, I approached her to share my appreciation for the film. It struck a personal chord with me, as it was about her upbringing in a town not far from my own. As we chatted, she invited me and Elijah to join her and her eclectic group of friends for a night out. The prospect of mingling with such an intriguing crowd filled me with excitement.

I take another sip of champagne, watching the bubbles rise and vanish. The tension in my shoulders melts as the attendant massages my ankles, her movements rhythmic and almost hypnotic. “So, India,” Kimberly says, voice smooth and teasing. “We didn’t finish our earlier discussion. Tell us about the mystery man.” I smile, eyes still half-closed. “What discussion?” “The one about the infuriatingly magnetic one,” Operah reminds me, arching a brow. “Don’t play innocent. You said he gets under your skin.” Maggie grins wickedly. “And we all know what that means.”

A moment later, a piece of paper slid through the narrow gap beneath my door. The footsteps retreated in haste. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I didn't touch the note, afraid of smudging fingerprints. Instead, I crouched and read the words on it: I know the truth about Edmund's death. Come to the big banyan tree in Greenfield Residences at 11 p.m. Don't call the police. The note was crafted with meticulous care—letters cut out from newspapers and books, pieced together like a ransom demand, leaving no trace of handwriting.