Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
It wouldn’t be because of society’s beauty standards.
It wouldn’t be because of my weight.
It wouldn’t be because men like Mr. Lyon didn’t want women like me.
It would be ME.
Me holding myself back.
Me blocking myself from joy.
If I said no, I wouldn’t be able to blame a thousand things—magazine covers, dating apps, men who made cruel jokes, childhood wounds that still stung in my quietest moments.
Tonight, the only thing standing between me and a night of possibility was my own self-doubt.
My fear.
My hesitation to believe that I could step into the kind of life I had always wanted.
I shivered, and my therapist’s words came rushing back.
"At young ages, we are programmed with negative self-talk. We don’t come into this world believing we are too much. We are taught to believe it. And your path to success isn’t waiting for that voice to disappear—it’s pushing through it. It’s breaking it away, piece by piece. It’s realizing that fear doesn’t have to be a stop sign. It can just be a mile marker on the way to something great."
I breathed in deep, feeling the heaviness of that truth settle into my bones.
I had two choices.
I could say no, walk away, and spend my entire life wondering what would have happened if I had just let myself step into the magic waiting for me.
Or I could say yes.
Yes, to him.
Yes, to this night.
Yes, to the version of me who wasn’t afraid to take up space, to be seen, to be wanted.
Yes, to the woman I had spent so many years becoming.
Alright then. . .that’s settled.
So I straightened my spine, turned to him, and tilted my head. A wicked smirk teased the corners of my lips. "If I say yes. . .what happens next?"
He exhaled slowly, like I’d just handed him a wrapped gift and he wanted to savor the moment before he tore it open.
Then, he leaned in.
Not enough to touch, but enough to fill every inch of space between us with his heat, his presence, his scent.
His voice was low, deep, sinful. "You’ll find out."
My pulse skipped.
"But I promise, Ms. Harris, you won’t regret it."
Mmmm.
I wet my lips, mouth suddenly dry, body suddenly too warm.
A decision sat on the tip of my tongue, one I had already made before I even asked the damn question.
I lifted my chin and met his gaze head-on. "Then, yes. Let’s enjoy this dinner together."
And in that moment, something shifted. His entire body visibly relaxed, but somehow, his intensity doubled and his eyes darkened, glimmering with something a little unholy.
"Good," he murmured.
And then. . .the tunnel ahead of us began to open.
A new space, glowing with golden light, unfolding like a secret being revealed.
And just like that, the experience truly began.
I stepped into pure decadence.
This dining space was stunning, as if someone had plucked it straight from a fantasy.
Golden candlelight flickered from massive crystal chandeliers, casting a soft glow over plush velvet seating and towering floral arrangements.
The scent of roses, vanilla, and spices curled through the air, warm and intoxicating.
And the tables—only ten of them in the entire space—were arranged for intimacy.
One couple per table.
No excess.
No distractions.
Only the person in front of you.
I should have expected it, but still, my stomach flipped when I saw our table.
The other couples were already seated.
Cosmo appeared in front of us.
“Here you go.” He walked off, and we followed.
Soon, Cosmo stopped us at one table, as if he’d already heard our conversation or at least sensed the inevitable outcome of this moment.
I turned my gaze to the table and my breath caught in my throat.
It wasn’t just a table. Beneath the sleek glass surface, an entire living world thrived.
An aquarium.
Soft, ethereal light pulsed from within, illuminating a vibrant underwater landscape of coral, delicate anemones, and slow-moving, hypnotic fish that shimmered in deep blues, golds, and iridescent pinks. The water was impossibly clear, giving the illusion that the creatures inside were floating in air rather than water.
Suspended in an infinite dream.
A school of tiny turquoise fish darted across the center.
A pair of butterflyfish—one the color of burning embers, the other as white as moonlight—circled each other in an intimate dance.
And at the very center, a single betta fish, dark crimson with a sweeping tail like fine silk, glided slowly through the water.
The entire thing was mesmerizing, surreal, and quietly breathtaking.
But then I noticed something else.
Two seats.
Positioned right next to each other.
Super close.
A deliberate lack of distance.
At first, I hesitated, taken aback by this unexpected arrangement.
But then I saw Mr. Lyon’s eyes, dancing with mischief, and I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat.
My heart pounded with the exhilaration of stepping outside my comfort zone.
Mr. Lyon gestured toward the chairs. "Shall we?"
With a deep breath, I nodded and we moved towards our seats together.
He pulled out the chair for me—a classic gesture that had my heart fluttering in my chest.