Page 5 of Tycoon

“Leave the arrangements to me and I will message you the details. Wear something nice,” I typed out and hit send.

With newfound determination, I reached for my phone again, this time to orchestrate an evening that was worthy of a beautiful woman like Amara. My fingers danced over the screen, dialing the number of the newest culinary gem in ATL—a place where the ambiance dripped with elegance and the flavors promised to ignite the senses.

“Good evening, L'Étoile Dorée,” a voice as smooth as aged whiskey greeted me.

“Good evening. I'd like to make a reservation for two for tomorrow tonight at seven,” I said, my words steadily.

“Of course, sir. May I have your name?”

“Andrew Del Rossi,” I replied, feeling a flicker of pride at the recognition that might accompany my surname. But tomorrow tonight isn’t about prestige; it was about providing a good impression for our first meeting.

“Mr. Del Rossi, we have a table with a view of the skyline, quite private for a special occasion.”

“Perfect,” I confirmed, already picturing the city's lights reflecting in Amara's eyes, giving them an extra twinkle that I was eager to witness up close.

“Consider it done, sir. We look forward to welcoming you and your guest on tomorrow evening at seven pm.”

“Thank you,” I said, ending the call. A smile played at the corners of my mouth as I imagined the night ahead. The restaurant's reputation for discretion and romance was well-earned, and I intended for every detail—the soft glow of candlelight, the bouquet of fine wine, the tasty gourmet delicacies—to complement the intrigue Amara had sparked in me.

I leaned back in my chair, allowing myself to bask in the warmth. The room around me, once a stronghold of routine and business, now felt like the starting point of an adventure, one that beckoned with the promise of connection and the sweet allure of the unknown.

Tomorrow night, the city wouldn't just be a backdrop; it would be a start to new possibilities.

CHAPTER THREE

Amara

On Monday morning before work, with a shaky hand I opened the door to a small café where Darriun and I used to have breakfast before work. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee washed over me, mingling with the memories of happier days spent lost in each other's company. But today, there's no warmth in the atmosphere—only a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

Darriun stood as he spotted me entering the doorway, his tall stature cutting a striking figure against the soft light filtering through the windows. He was dressed in a navy suit with a blue and white striped tie, he looked every bit of the charm and sophistication that first captured my heart. His dark skin is flawless, and he flashed me a smile showing off his bright white teeth

The faithful admiration I once held for him evaporated in an instant, replaced by a seething resentment that bubbled beneath the surface. I crossed the room with purposeful strides, my gaze locked on him as I approached the table where he waited.

“Darriun,” I greeted him tersely, my voice laced with a bitterness I couldn't quite conceal.

“Amara,” he responded, his tone carefully neutral as he gestured for me to take a seat across from him. “It's good to see you.”

I resisted the urge tell him to go to hell and take his fake pleasantries, with him. My jaw clenched tight against the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. Instead, I settled into the chair opposite him, my posture rigid with tension as I braced myself for the confrontation that I knew was inevitable.

Darriun cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away from mine as he struggled to find the right words. “I know this is... unexpected,” he began again, his voice hesitant. “But I felt we needed to talk.”

The audacity of his statement ignites a spark of fury within me, and I felt my control slipping as months of pent-up frustration bubbled to the surface. “Talk?” I repeated incredulously, my voice raised with each syllable. “After everything you put me through, you have the nerve to sit here and act like nothing's wrong?”

Darriun recoiled slightly at the venom in my words, his expression faltering for the briefest of moments before he schooled his features into a mask of indifference. “Amara, I understand that you're upset,” he said placatingly, his tone grating on my already frayed nerves. “But I think it's time we put the past behind us.”

“The past?” I sneer, my laughter bitter and sharp. “You mean the past nine months that you've spent avoiding me like the plague? Or the past three years that you threw away without so much as a goodbye?”

Darriun's jaw tightens at my accusations, his facade slipping ever so slightly as the weight of my words hangs heavy in the air between us. “Amara, I never meant to hurt you,” he insisted, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “But things just weren't working between us anymore. You know that.”

Rage surges through me and brimmed over before I can stop myself, the words come tumbling out in a torrent of pent-up emotion. “You're blaming this on me?” I seethed, my voice trembling with anger. “After everything I gave to this relationship, you have the gall to sit there and tell me it's my fault?”

Darriun's expression softens, a flicker of remorse crossed his features as he reached out to place a hand over mine. “Amara, please,” he implored, his voice tinged with regret. “I don't want us to be enemies. I just want us to be civil, for old times' sake. That’s why I invited you to my wedding.”

“Oh, so your future wife caused you to break my heart. How long have you known Tina?”

“All of my life it seems. We were high school and college sweethearts. She moved away to pursue a modeling career. She married and then I met you. Tina was and is the love of my life. When she divorced a year ago and told me she was moving back to Atlanta, I knew I had to follow my heart. I’m sorry I hurt you and should have told you all of this from the jump, but I cared for you too, I not only cared for you, but we became friends.”

“Friends don’t do friends dirty, Darriun. And you’re right, you should have told me you were hung up on another woman when we met. It would have helped me to decide whether I wanted to invest three years of my life in a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. I’m thirty-one and I always told you I wanted marriage and children. My clock is ticking Darriun, and I’m so angry at you.”

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