Chapter 54

… Emile pov…

We had just unwrapped the mysterious papers from the sweet of the Chinese man. I watched as Dickinson carefully unwrapped his paper, his expression unreadable. I slowly unwrapped mine and looked at it.

On the paper were two lines of written words. On the first were strange Chinese symbols then under it on the second line were English words that seemed like the interpretation of Chinese symbols.

I read the words in my mind then looked up and glanced at Dickinson as he read the contents, I couldn't help but steal glimpses at him from the corner of my eye.

I noticed his eyebrows raised in surprise, and for a moment, I wondered what was written on the paper. But then, he looked up at me, and I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be fascinated by the intricate patterns on the tablecloth.

The silence between us was thick and heavy, as if both of us were lost in thought, trying to decipher the meaning of the papers.

I couldn't help but wonder if my own paper held the same secrets that Dickinson's did. But I dared not to ask, afraid of what the answer might be.

Just then, the Chinese man returned, his smile wide and friendly. He approached our table, and I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. His eyes flicked from me to Dickinson and back, as if he was trying to gauge our reactions.

I watched as Dickinson folded the paper and placed it back in the envelope, his face still unreadable. I quickly followed suit, tucking my own paper away in my purse. The Chinese man gave us a nod and a smile, then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving us alone once again.

For a moment, Dickinson and I just sat there, not speaking. I could feel the tension between us, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. But neither of us made a move to break the silence.

Finally, I cleared my throat, breaking the silence. "What was on your paper?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Dickinson shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I can't say," he replied, his voice low and mysterious. It's a game of course".

I sighed, feeling frustrated. "Why not?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

"Because it's better if we don't know," he said, his eyes meeting mine. "Trust me, Emile. It's better this way."

I couldn't help but feel disappointed. I had hoped that we could later tell each other what we saw in our papers. But now, it seemed like Dickinson was closing himself off, leaving me in the dark.

The waiter delayed returning to our table. We waited for a while, but it seemed like he had disappeared. He must have been confused and scared away from our table.

Dickinson, growing frustrated, snapped his fingers to get the waiter's attention. To our relief, the waiter appeared out of nowhere, looking flustered.

"What can I get for you sire?" He asked, leaning forward. Dickinson quickly placed his order and then turned to me to get my order.

"I'll have the grilled salmon with a side of roasted vegetables," He said, after giving the menu a quick glance. I was feeling overwhelmed with all the options and hesitated, so Dickinson took it upon himself to make an order for me.

"Bring her the same thing--" he said, waving his hands. I interrupted, "And I'll have the steak frites."

"Ok ma'am."

"Also a bottle of champagne please", he added as the waiter went to get our orders

We sat in silence as we waited for the food. I couldn't maintain eye contact with Dickinson and my eyes looked everywhere except his face. The food arrived, and we wasted no time diving in, it was fantastic. The flavors danced in my mouth. It was nice but I glanced at Dickinson's plate and I really admired his choice.

As I watch Dickinson eat his grilled salmon and side of roasted vegetables, I can't help but be struck by the contrast between us. Here I am, tucking into my juicy steak fries, while he nibbles on his healthier meal with such meticulousness. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes about our personalities and our lifestyles.

I can tell that he's put a lot of thought into his meal, carefully selecting dishes that are both nutritious and delicious. He savors each bite, closing his eyes in appreciation as he chews. I can tell that he's someone who values his health and well-being, someone who takes the time to care for himself.

On the other hand, I'm more of a "live in the moment" kind of person. I enjoy indulging in life's simple pleasures, like a delicious steak and a side of crispy fries. I don't necessarily prioritize my health, but I'm not one to deny myself the things I enjoy.

I watched with lowered eyebrows as Dickinson ate, I can't help but think about how different we are, even in the smallest of ways. I wonder if this is something that will come between us, or if our differences will eventually complement each other.

I take a bite of my steak and savor the flavors, letting the richness of the meat and the saltiness of the fries wash over me. I close my eyes, enjoying the moment, and when I open them again, I catch Dickinson watching me with a small smile on his face.

"What?" I ask, feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "I just like watching you enjoy your food." I raise an eyebrow, not sure if I believe him. "Really?"

"Yes," he nods. "It's a small thing, but it's one of the things I love about you. You're so present in the moment, so unapologetic about enjoying life's little pleasures."

I feel my cheeks flush at his words. "Thanks," I say, feeling awkward

As we finished our meal, I reached for my purse to pay the bill, but Emile beat me to it. He handed the waiter his card with a smile and I couldn't help but feel grateful for his kindness. We had been through so much that evening, and the last thing I wanted was to add another argument over the bill to the mix.

We stood up from the table, ready to leave the restaurant and continue our conversation outside. As we stepped out into the night, I was hit with a sudden feeling of unease. Something was off, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Stepping out of the restaurant with Dickinson, I was immediately met with the commotion and chaos that had erupted outside.

The night that was once peaceful was now filled with shouting, the sound of objects being thrown, and the sound of gunshots. I was taken aback by the sudden turn of events and looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The street was filled with people running in different directions, trying to find cover. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, and the bright flashing lights of police cars were starting to approach the area. The buildings surrounding us were tall and imposing, casting eerie shadows on the street below.

Despite the chaos, I couldn't help but take in the beauty of the night. The city was lit up by the bright lights of buildings and street lamps, casting a warm glow on everything around us. The air was filled with the sounds of the city, the hum of traffic, and the distant sound of sirens.

Dickinson seemed to be just as stunned as I was. He looked around, trying to assess the situation. I could tell that he was worried about my safety. I felt a jolt of fear run through my body and my first instinct was to run in the opposite direction.

Dickinson seemed to have the same idea, and he quickly held my hands and pulled me to the side of the road, ready to make a hasty escape. His Mercedes Benz was parked there. He released my hand and made to open the car door gesturing me to get in.

I was hesitant. I didn't feel safe like having Dickinson drive me home "I could as well take a taxi," I told him, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. "We don't have time for this, Emile. Just get in the car."

But I stood my ground. I was scared, but I wasn't going to give in to my fears. "No," I said firmly. "I want to take the cab. It's okay."

Emile took a step closer to me, his eyes blazing with anger. "Do you not trust me?" he asked, his voice low and harsh.

"It's not that I don't trust you," I told him, my voice shaking. "I just... don't want to burden you, I said with a tone of urgency looking at him. He doesn't look like someone who will take a no at this moment.