OPULENCE | Freddie Mercury Fanfiction

20. Dinner (pt. 1)

Estella was nervous.

There was no point in denying it. Tonight, she wanted to look her very best. She settled for one of her finest dresses–a long, silky dress that was falling down her body so effortlessly, showing off every curve. The scarlet fabric matched her lips, and her hair was pulled up in an elegant updo, with golden jewelry to accessorize the outfit and pull it all together.

She looked good, and she knew it.

At exactly 7 p.m., she headed downstairs. Freddie announced that he'd send someone to come to pick her up with his limousine like the gentleman he was, saying that it was non-negotiable. Just as he promised, right on the dot, at 7 p.m., the limousine was in front of the hotel. The chauffeur was there to open the door for her–an older guy with grey hair and a soft smile on his face.

"Good evening, Miss Sorino," he greeted her as she approached. His French accent was thick as he spoke. "My name is Pierre. I'm Mr. Mercury's chauffer during his stay here, but he insisted I be at your service, too," he explained, opening the door.

"Thank you, Pierre. That's so very kind of you," she responded, settling in the limousine. Once she was settled in, Pierre started driving toward the destination that was still unknown to her.

"Please do let me know if there's anything I may do for you tonight, Miss Sorino," Pierre spoke as the small barrier between them lowered, his eyes momentarily meeting hers through the mirror.

"I will, thank you," she said. "In fact... There is something you can do for me. Can you tell me where we're going?"

Pierre nodded his head, but his eyes were on the road now. "Of course, Miss Sorino. Mr. Mercury is waiting for you at Guy Savoy. It is one of our finest restaurants. I think you'll enjoy the food."

Guy Savoy. Estella had heard of it–it was one of the most expensive restaurants not only in Paris, but also in the world. It seemed like Freddie was really going out of his way for this dinner of theirs.

Estella couldn't quite figure out why she was nervous. She had gone on dates before–she had been with men that worshipped the ground that she walked on.

What made Freddie so different?

She couldn't tell, but she was hoping that she'd be able to figure it all out tonight.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Pierre opened the door for Estella as they arrived at the restaurant, flashing her yet another kind smile.

"I hope you have a lovely night, Miss Sorino," he told her, giving a small, respectful bow that drew out a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Pierre. I hope that you have a wonderful evening, too," she responded, heading into the restaurant. The first thing that she noticed was that it was empty–so unusually empty. The restaurant was crazy expensive, that was for sure, but there were always rich people willing to spend a lot of money for a good dinner.

Not tonight, it seemed.

"Miss Sorino?" A tall blonde approached Estella instantly, wearing formal black attire. The small name tag that hung on the left side of her chest read 'Marie.' "Welcome to Guy Savoy. Mr. Mercury is waiting for you. Please follow me."

After taking Estella's coat, Marie led her to the only table taken in the entire restaurant. Freddie was seated at it, wearing a black suit that was a heavy contrast to his usual rockstar attire.

Estella didn't mind; in fact, she thought he looked quite handsome. Instantly, Freddie stood up, insisting that he pulled out her chair.

"I'll be right back with the menus," Marie promised, giving them a moment alone as Estella sat down.

"Don't tell me you've emptied the entire restaurant," she mumbled. His eyes were all over her; she loved it. She loved the hunger that was now visibly glistening in his eyes.

Freddie shrugged in response–it took a moment for his brain to process the words that had just left her lips. "I wanted us to have some privacy."

"Privacy can be achieved at just one table, you know," she pointed out stubbornly. For some reason, there was a part of her that enjoyed pushing his buttons. Maybe it was the slight bitterness over the way they left off years ago. Maybe it was just the effect that he had on her.

"For the singer of Queen and most beautiful woman in the world?" He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Freddie," she responded, attempting to hold back a smile as she stared at him.

"Your cheeks are telling me otherwise. You're blushing, my darling," he teased her in return.

"It's just hot in here," she retorted in all her stubbornness.

Before she could respond, Marie approached them with leather menus that she place in front of them.

"Marie, be a dear, and bring us the bottle of your finest wine," Freddie told her, flashing her that well-known smile of his. The effect it had on her–and most other women–was instant. She quickly returned the smile, stammering in her words.

"That's going to be our 1970 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Romanee-Conti Grand Cru, Mr. Mercury..." she said, swallowing a little.

"Sounds good. We'll have that. Give us a moment to decide on your food. Thank you, Marie," Freddie said, and then his eyes focused on the menu.

There was something about it all...something about the way that he took the initiative and demanded the things that he wanted that made her weak in her knees. She hated to admit it–she really did, but there was no point in denying it. No matter how hard she tried.

"I hear their artichoke soup with black truffle is amazing," Freddie said. Estella opened the menu, her eyes drifting over the lines of meals listed in it. It was a little overwhelming. While she was wealthy enough to afford places like these, it wasn't the kind of a restaurant she usually went to.

"I'm not even sure what to have," she admitted, her gaze raising to meet Freddie's. He met it with a light twitch of his lips, like he was trying not to smile.

"If you'll allow it, I'll order for you. I think I have an idea of what you may like," he stated simply, causing her to raise her eyebrow. That was a bold claim.

"How's so? You haven't seen me in years..."

"It doesn't matter. Do you trust me?"

"Absolutely not," Estella responded, pressing her lips into a tight line to hold back a smile. "But you may order for me. I'm curious to see if you're right."

Marie returned with their wine then, pouring them a glass each.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Yes, we are. We'll have an artichoke soup with black truffle each. We'd also like iced poached oysters, concassé of oysters, granité of seaweed and lemon... And some seared and roasted medallions of veal, with vegetables in a classical style, too. For dessert, we'll have citrus with batak berries and pure chocolate tartlet. And that will be all for now."

As Marie left with their order, Estella took a sip of her wine.

"So you've come prepared, huh?" she asked, leaning back against her chair.

"I like to be prepared when I'm out on a date with a beautiful woman like yourself," Freddie said. He was still staring at her in that way that made her core respond...the way that told her that he liked every inch of her skin.

"This isn't a date. Just a dinner," she pointed out, even if it felt otherwise for her, too. Not that she dared to admit it to herself.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you're absolutely breathtaking, and I've come prepared because I want you to have a good evening." He paused for a moment. "That dress suits you. The color makes you stand out. You should wear it more often."

"A singer and a stylist?" Estella let out a low chuckle. "Talk about a multitasker..."

A smug smile crossed his face.

"Sweetheart, I've got it all."