The moment Emma stepped into Le Mirage, she knew something was different. After their activity earlier, when her stomach growled louder. Damien suggested dinner. And hence they were here.
The restaurant, usually buzzing with the city’s elite, was silent— save for the soft strains of a piano weaving through the air like a secret. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over empty tables, their pristine linens untouched. A single setting waited at the center of the room, bathed in candlelight, overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering skyline.
Emma turned to Damien, her brow furrowing. “Why is it empty?”
The maître d’— a silver-haired man with a knowing smile— answered before Damien could. “Slow evening, madame. A rare treat for our most valued guests. Enjoy your
