The city gleamed under the night sky, bathed in neon lights and the endless hum of life. The weekend brought a flood of people into the streets—some escaping their stressful jobs, others chasing the thrill of the night. The air buzzed with the sounds of honking cars, animated conversations, and advertisements flashing across towering screens.
In a high-end restaurant brimming with customers, waiters and waitresses weaved through tables at an impressive speed. I sat at a reserved table, dressed in a sleek suit for the occasion. Across from me, Ashley looked stunning in a white dress that perfectly complemented her elegant aura. The table was adorned with a vase of red roses, pink candles emitting a subtle strawberry fragrance, and dim lighting that enhanced the romantic atmosphere. I had spent extra to reserve this spot—tonight was special.
This was our second date, the one I had promised after accidentally ghosting her days ago. Hopefully, nothing would ruin our night.
As we waited for our food, Ashley smiled at me, her expression warm enough to melt away my lingering worries.
"This restaurant is so charming, Vincent. The atmosphere is just perfect," she said, her gaze wandering around in admiration.
I took her hand, gently caressing it. "It's the least I can do after last time," I admitted.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. We unknowingly leaned in, drawn by an invisible force. My heartbeat quickened as our faces neared, but before we could close the gap, our nerves got the better of us. We both retreated, blushing.
Ashley cleared her throat, clearly flustered. "Uhm, so… how have you been? Since we last met?"
I told her about my past week—well, the clean parts of it, leaving out anything related to the mafia. Without that, my life was pretty mundane. Working night shifts at a convenience store was as exhausting as it was frustrating. Dealing with drunk customers, occasional theft, the boredom of long hours, and the cruel rule that prohibited sleeping on duty. After finishing my shift, I'd crash for hours before waking up with barely enough time to do anything else. I was supposed to be working tonight, but I managed to swap shifts with a coworker.
"Thank you for that," I said, relieved that I could spend the night with Ashley instead of behind a register.
Minutes later, our food arrived—two large, perfectly cooked steaks, far more generous than I had expected from a luxury restaurant. To top it off, we had a bottle of champagne, surprisingly cheaper than the steak.
We raised our glasses, clinking them together.
"To our date," we said in unison before taking a sip.
The smooth, bubbly taste was a pleasant surprise, and judging by Ashley's widened eyes, she felt the same. To onlookers, we must have looked like two people experiencing luxury for the first time.
We laughed and continued enjoying our time together.
Meanwhile, at the Police Station…
Most officers had already left for the night, but a few remained, including Connor Hayes, a young rookie officer. He sat at his desk, staring at his work with a cup of hot coffee beside him. His fingers tapped restlessly against the wooden surface. No matter how much he tried to focus, his mind kept circling back to yesterday's event.
He had arrested a drug dealer, but as soon as his senior officer saw the aluminum tarot card in the suspect's possession, he had released the man without question.
Who the hell was that guy? And why did my senior look so terrified of that card?
Connor glanced at the officer sitting beside him, a man in his 30s who had been in the force longer than he had. Without hesitation, he turned to him.
"Senior, I have a question."
The older officer glanced over. "Yeah? What is it?"
Connor pulled up a photo on his phone—the image of the tarot card. "Do you know what this means?"
The man's face instantly paled. His eyes darted around nervously.
"Uh… no. I—I don't know what that is," he stammered before abruptly rising from his seat. "I have to go. My wife's probably waiting for me." Without another word, he hurried off.
Connor watched him leave, unimpressed. Expected. Every time he asked someone about the card, they would dodge the question, act busy, or change the topic. The other rookies were just as clueless.
It infuriated him.
Police should never turn a blind eye to criminals, no matter who they are.
BAM!
His fist slammed against the desk in frustration. His breaths were heavy, his hands clenched into fists.
"Vincent Archer… I'll find out who you are, and I'll get you arrested, no matter what. Mark my words!"
Back to Vincent…
"BRR!"
A sudden shiver ran down my spine.
"Are you okay, Vin?" Ashley asked, concern laced in her voice.
"Yeah, I'm fine… just felt like someone was talking about me."
We stood outside the restaurant, the night air cool against my skin. Ashley, in her sleeveless white dress, wasn't exactly dressed for the chill.
"I really enjoyed tonight," she said softly, her gaze meeting mine. "It's such a lovely night."
"I'm glad. I got to know more about you, too," I replied, staring into her sky-blue eyes.
She stepped closer. My heart pounded.
"Close your eyes," she whispered.
I obeyed, my breath hitching. I could feel her warmth, her presence so close that my mind blanked out in anticipation.
Then, her lips pressed against mine—soft, warm, perfect. The chaotic noise of the city melted into silence.
It was breathtaking.
The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, mirroring my own.
"That was… my first kiss," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm glad it was with you."
She leaned in again, this time whispering in my ear. "I can't wait for our next date. See you soon."
Then, as if on cue, her Uber arrived. She stepped inside, giving me one last glance before the car disappeared down the street.
I exhaled sharply.
Damn… I think I've fallen for her.
Beep! Beep!
I turned to see a sleek, black luxury car pulling up beside me. The tinted window of the back seat rolled down.
"Hey, kid. Nice suit you got there," a familiar voice called out.
I stiffened. "Boss?"
It was Douglas—the head of the Clover Group's Number 10 division.
"What are you doing here?" I asked warily.
"Get in," he said, gesturing to the seat beside him. "We need to talk."
I hesitated.
Still, with nothing else to do, I slid into the car. The moment I sat down, I was hit with the sheer luxury of it—spacious seats, a built-in minibar, a ceiling-mounted TV, even a damn massage function in the seat cushion.
"Glad to see you're enjoying the ride," Douglas smirked. He signaled to the driver, and the car smoothly pulled onto the road.
I frowned. "Where are we going?"
Douglas leaned in slightly, his tone turning serious. "Tell me, kid… do you hate the people who ruined your night? The ones who wrecked your car?"
My stomach tightened. "...Yeah, I guess I do. Why?"
His smirk widened. "Then you're gonna like where we're headed."
A chill ran down my spine.
I suddenly had a very bad feeling about this, and I didn't like it at all.