5:00 PM.
Dalia had taken a long, relaxing bath and was now attempting to watch a show on Netflix. But she couldn't keep her eyes off her phone.
"It's already 5:00. Did that idiot forget about our date?" Dalia thought, furrowing her brows. Date? she thought to herself. When had this dinner turned into a date? And when had she agreed to go on one with a random waiter from a café? When had she trusted him enough to meet him like this?
She bit her lower lip, trying to regain her focus on the show in front of her.
"Khalas!" She muttered, getting up from the bed and heading to the walk-in closet. The room was spacious enough, but it was only a guest suite at a royal hotel, so it still didn't feel quite like hers. She slammed open the doors, scanning for a formal dress. Mr. Sinclair had warned her beforehand not to bring anything except her phone and basic essentials. Everything else, he assured her, would be provided.
As the closet doors creaked open, rows of outfits greeted her, all neatly color-coded with tags indicating their use: Business, Casual, Party, and so on.
She sifted through the options until something caught her eye.
A stunning maxi dress in a golden shade that reminded her of a sunset, falling just below her knees. The fabric wasn't shiny, but it was mesmerizing, with small black prints scattered across the material. She grabbed it and moved on to the shoes. A long pair of boots awaited her. After picking those out, she found some accessories to complete the look.
Standing in front of the mirror, Dalia checked her reflection. The matching hijab, effortlessly styled, complemented her light makeup. The maxi dress, paired with tights and boots, covered everything it needed to. All in all, it was the perfect outfit for a stroll through Portofino.
She picked up her phone and wallet. Checking the time, she saw it was already 6:30.
So much for the guy who screamed at the top of his lungs to ask me out.
She left her room and stepped into the elevator. As she exited, she noticed a commotion at the entrance. The guard was stopping someone from entering, and the man was arguing back. Curious, she approached, and as she got closer, she heard a familiar voice.
She stood on her toes, inching closer to see Enzo, arguing with the guard.
"I'm telling you, I live here! I've been robbed! Non ci posso credere, che palle! Perché non capisci, cavolo!"
Oh, so he'd been robbed. That's why he—
Why am I sympathizing with him? It was his fault for getting robbed. Well, not really, but still... That's what you get for hitting on a—
Her thoughts were interrupted by her own actions. Without thinking, she pushed her way through the crowd and reached Enzo.
"Don't you hear him? He's a guest here. He lives in the Dolce Vita suite."
"Madame, please step away. How can this piece of—" The guard began to argue.
Hearing the commotion, a concierge had already called for the manager.
The concierge, not stepping in to solve the issue, looked up and recognized Enzo.
"Yes, that's him. He lives in the Dolce Vita suite. He asked me for a list of the best boutiques earlier today. That's him."
Boutiques? Dalia thought.
Was he really out to buy a dress for me? For real?
The guard narrowed his eyes at Enzo, who glared back.
"What's the problem here? There's been a commotion for a while. May I know what's happening?" The manager stepped in, cutting off the guard before he could speak.
Enzo spoke first, cutting through the tension. "This guard right here refused me entry because of my attire! What kind of sick policy is that? You hear me? What the hel—ma che cazzo è?! Sul serio? Per i vestiti?!"
"I sincerely apologize, sir. Please calm down. We are deeply sorry for his rudeness. Please allow us to make this right for you."
Enzo glanced around, looking defeated, but when he spotted Dalia, his expression changed.
"Dalia!" he exclaimed, like a puppy seeing his master. Dalia widened her eyes, and a blush crept up her skin. She quickly looked away, unable to meet his gaze for a while longer.
"I heard you were looking for a place for your date. How about the rooftop? It'll be complimentary, of course."
"Sounds okay," Enzo replied dryly.
"Perfect, your booking will be ready as soon as possible. Now, if you'll excuse me, the concierge, Ms. Sa Rang, will escort you to your spot." The manager gave his standard, plastered smile before walking off.
Enzo rushed to Dalia and flashed her a smile. "All's well that ends well, right?"