I leave her with the cash and head across the street to the toy store.
I find the plush toys toward the rear and search until I spot what I want - a huge brown bear, nearly three feet high, fluffy with drooping ears. The kind of thing girls take photos with. Picking up the bear, I head to the register where the girl working there smiles at me.
“This is the sweetest thing!” she squeals. “They’re going to be so happy.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You want a gift bag?”
“No, that’s alright. Thank you, though.”
When I get back to the flower place after an hour, the florist shows me the completed money bouquet, and it turned outbetter than I expected. The euros are folded into rose shapes, sitting among real leaves and delicate blooms, packaged in dark silk and metallic ribbon.
“This looks incredible.” I’m genuinely impressed. “You really outdid yourself.”
She grins widely. “Thanks so much! This has been the most unique arrangement I’ve made in ages.”
I grab the flowers from her. “Thanks for putting in the effort.”
“Good luck on your date!”
I pile it all in the back seat: the Birkin box full of euros, both flower arrangements, and that massive brown bear.
My driver glances in the rearview mirror. “Everything go well, sir?”
“Yes. Let’s head back.”
I glance at the time. Five o’clock. Three hours to go.
Once I’m home, I clean up and put on a black suit and white shirt, leaving the tie off, and I look at my reflection while I fix my sleeves. I don’t usually spend this long getting ready for a woman, but for Zoya, it all has to be flawless.
By the time I change cars and fill the trunk up with the items, it’s already seven forty-five.
Time to go.
My ride to hers is one of the longest I have ever been on. I enjoy driving, but this time, it’s different. I keep speeding like I have a death sentence, pulling my car through narrow spaces while I try to imagine what she’ll have on tonight.
I pull the Bentley up in front of her place almost fifteen minutes later. Keeping the car idling, I send her a quick text saying I arrived. She doesn’t answer immediately, so I place the phone in the cup holder, taking my time to look around the neighborhood from the mirror.
I resist the urge to grimace from the sight.
Her gate swings open a moment later, and she walks out wearing a black dress that reveals enough skin to drive me crazy. Fuck, she sure knows how to make a man mad and hard at the same time. Zoya sees my car and freezes completely before spinning around and heading the other way.
Is she really ignoring a Bentley right now?
I get out and follow her down the sidewalk. “That dress looks good on you, beautiful. Nice pick.”
She doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, her footsteps get faster on those ridiculously high heels.
“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“Catching a ride. Text me where we’re eating.”
I catch up with her in two strides. “Get in the car.”
“No.”
“Stop being difficult. It’s freezing out here.”