𝐌𝐫. 𝐕𝐢𝐳𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫| 彡

03 || Prosecco

"Wow, you're so determined. Bet she won't even fall in love with you, the only thing you care about is the sex." Izaiah scoffed and I gasped.

"What makes you think she won't fall in love with me? I'm irresistible, charming," I patted my chest and they both laughed.

"You're a player. See, she even gave you a fake number. She knows you're dangerous, hence she won't even put herself in that kind of position."

"Are you actually serious? Wanna bet? If I ever find her, she's going to fall in love with me. I just have that effect," I held out my large palm and they stared at each other with sly smiles.

They probably thought they were going to win the bet.

"Ten thousand? Minimum-"

"Fifty. Nothing I can't handle," I offered, and they both slapped my hand.

"Make sure you've got a hundred thousand dollars ready," Miguel got up with a smirk.

"And what makes you so confident that you're going to win?" I tilted my head.

"Oh, we will. She seems like a challenge, we're working with a girl in the minority," Izaiah winked, and I rolled my eyes when they began to laugh.

"Anyways, my parents asked me to go and try out their new restaurant tonight. You guys wanna come? Obviously, I'll send you the location. See you there." He placed a towel over his shoulder before leaving.

"He knows we could secretly fly to Egypt or France to miss this, right?" Izaiah gestured to him.

"He has a lot of sidechicks at the airport. Pretty sure he knows an air hostess from almost every plane. We'll be busted," I shrugged with a smile.

"Or we could use the private jet," he suggested.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all." We both laughed at my remark.

----

By eight forty-five, we were settled in the extravagant restaurant that bustled with a lot of influencers, billionaires, celebrities and many other affluent people in society.

Izaiah, being the picture addict, forced us to get pictures right outside the restaurant for his social media before we entered.

The restaurant was absolutely great; the service was relatively efficient, the delectable dishes had scrumptious and the lavish environment exuded luxury.

Miguel had been the one to order the most food, and Izaiah obviously got the least. It didn't help that it consisted of greens, his usual hummus and some different, fancy vegetables arrayed exquisitely in his plates and bowls. He was very conscious about his appearance, it amused me.

"Gotta text your dad and tell him he did an excellent job opening up a fifth restaurant." Izaiah leaned back, dipping his spoon into his Peach Melba.

"You know he's a money-maker. Any industry that seems to generate lots of income, he'll perfect." Miguel shrugged. He was a chef himself, a reason why his father asked him to come and review the food.

The waiters seemed to have an idea of who he was because they were all hovering around our table, constantly checking if we were satisfied, refilling our wines and replacing the utilised cutlery every now and then.

They offered us way more than we had actually ordered, bringing an extra array of hors d'oeuvre at the beginning, and they added more to the stages as the night progressed.

"We ordered another bottle of wine, didn't we?" Izaiah questioned, tipping back the last bit of it in his glass.

"Yeah. I'm sure they're on it, oh, there it is." He gestured behind me and I turned, the cold immediately flooding my body as I realised who it was.