Married to a retired play boy

Rain lashed against the office building windows, blurring the cityscape into an impressionist painting. Inside her office, Vanessa gripped the phone tighter, her knuckles white against the purple and white plastic pouch as she lamented to her best friend, Carolyn.

Three years. Three years of dating Emmy. Yet, every year, Emmy seems to work with a calendar that conspires against their relationship, also swallowing their anniversary whole.

"I will visit him at his office today", Vanessa told Carolyn over the phone. "I will have to remind him myself..... Like I do every year" she added as sadness laced in her voice.

"Are you sure about this, Vanessa?" Carolyn's voice, a familiar blend of concern and worry, crackled through the receiver. "Just popping in unannounced? Emmy might be in a meeting."

Vanessa winced. Meetings. That was Emmy's default excuse. Meetings that stretched late, demanded his undivided attention, and conveniently erased every memory of dates, champagne toasts and whispered "I love you."

"He always has meetings," Vanessa muttered, her voice laced with a bitterness she tried hard to mask.

"Maybe if I remind him in person..." The sentence trailed off. Even to her own ears, it sounded flimsy, a desperate attempt to save a day that already felt lost.

Carolyn sighed, a sound heavy with understanding. "Look," she said, her voice gentling, "why not call him first? A heads-up, like a casual 'thinking about you' kind of thing? Then, if he reacts weirdly, you'll know what you're dealing with, right?"

"Fine, I will call him first," she replied, sounding unconvinced.

As Vanessa considered this, a flicker of hope ignited in her chest. A casual call could be a subtle reminder. Maybe this year will be different.

"I will keep you updated when I'm done talking to Emmy," she told Carolyn.

"Bye for now. I hope things work fine for you." Carolyn encouraged her before ending the call.

With a newfound resolve as she disconnected the call, she scrolled through her phone's contacts.

Her finger hovered over Emmy's name, a familiar pang of nervousness twisting in her gut.

Today, she would find out the truth, and whatever it may be, it would come out. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the call button, the sound echoing in her ear as it connected.

Unfortunately, no answer. She tried the same method three times, expecting different results, but nothing changed. After the third attempt, she considered sending a text to him.

"Hey, I'm coming over to your office. Hope you are not busy?" She sent the short text, omitting the important part which was their anniversary.

Minutes passed into minutes as she waited for him to text back, but he didn't reply. What can he be doing? Is he in a meeting? These questions flooded her mind as doubt began to swell in her heart.

She had noticed Emmy's strange behavior, but she had been ignoring those signs. For three years, she had been committed to the relationship, hoping her boyfriend would change his nonchalant attitude towards dates, anniversaries, champagne toast and other couple-stuff.

After a stretched time, she got no response from Emmy. Changing her mind, she decided to visit Emmy at his office. She needs to see him in person so they can talk things out before it gets out of her hands.

Frustration simmered alongside the rain outside as Vanessa stormed out of the office building.

The once gentle drizzle had morphed into a steady downpour, the wind whipping the rain into sheets that blurred the city landscape.

Clutching on to her flimsy umbrella that offered little protection, she sprinted across the sidewalk, her heels clicking against the wet pavement.

Reaching the parking garage, she ducked under the overhang, gasping for breath.

Vanessa's gaze landed on her dented, cherry-red Ford nestled in a forgotten corner. Rain hammered against its faded paint, leaving rivulets that traced the countless scratches and dings that served as a map of past fender benders.

"Rusty," Vanessa muttered affectionately, reaching for the well-worn key fob. This wasn't the sleek sports car she'd dreamed of but Rusty, her companion, had never let her down. With a sigh, she climbed into the worn leather interior, a familiar scent of lavender greeted her.

The engine coughed and sputtered to life, protesting the damp weather with a series of disgruntled coughs. Vanessa could have chuckled as she always does, but she was in no mood. The impending conversation with Emmy was the only thing on her mind.

Rusty wasn't the perfect car, it was far from it, but today, amidst the chaos and frustration, it was exactly what she needed, a loyal and reliable friend, a steed to carry her towards whatever Emmy's office held.

With purpose-filled steps, she got out of her car, she approached his office building. As the elevator doors whooshed open, revealing a scene Vanessa hadn't dared to imagine.

Her carefully chosen outfit, a mix of power and femininity, suddenly felt like a costume for a play gone horribly wrong. Emmy's office door was ajar, a sliver of light escaping like a silent scream. Vanessa's heart hammered against her ribs, a stark counterpoint to the hushed sounds filtering through the gap.

Curiosity propelled her forward, with one hesitant step, then another. The plush carpet muffled the sound of her approach, allowing her to witness a scene that threatened to rip her heart apart.

Emmy, her own Emmy, her boyfriend for three years, was entangled with his usually prim and proper secretary, their clothes strewn across the office floor.

A choked sob escaped her lips as she opened the door widely, a tiny sound that shattered the scene. Emmy's head snapped up, his face a mask of surprise morphing into panicked horror as their eyes met.

"What....?" The words stopped in her throat as she tried to process the horrible sight she had witnessed.

His secretary, mirroring his shocked expression, scrambled to cover herself, as she ran out of his office. Vanessa ignored her, her main focus was Emmy, her supposed boyfriend.

"You didn't tell me you were coming," he said casually, trying to hide the fact that she had just caught him cheating on her on their anniversary.

She scoffed, her eyes darting towards the picture frame sitting pretty on his table. The carefully constructed world she'd built with Emmy crumbled around her. In its place, a gaping chasm of betrayal yawned, threatening to swallow her whole.

A sob erupted from Vanessa's throat, a sound raw with fury and heartbreak. The scene before her blurred as tears welled in her eyes. With a surge of adrenaline, she crossed the room, the distance between them evaporating in a heartbeat. Her hand, propelled by a white-hot rage, connected with a resounding smack across his face.

"You scumbag! She shouted. "Three years!" she screamed, the words punctuated by choked sobs. "Three anniversaries you forgot, giving me silly excuses. You lying weasel!"

"How dare you hit me?" Emmy roared, stunned by the sudden attack. Reacting instinctively, his hand flew up, mirroring her slap.

Vanessa gasped loudly as the impact sent a jolt of pain through Vanessa's cheek, a physical manifestation of the emotional earthquake ripping through her.

"How dare you raise your hands on me" she said as her anger slowly turned to sadness. "How could you do this to me without an atom of guilt?" She cried. She couldn't believe her boyfriend slapped her because she caught him cheating on her with his secretary.

"I'm sorry for hitting you..... It was a mistake, I didn't mean to do it," Emmy apologizes for hitting her, but he is not sorry for cheating on her on their anniversary.

In a voice thick with emotion, she choked out the words that would sever the ties that bound them. "It's over, Emmy. We're done."

Tears streamed down her face, each one a silent accusation washing away the years of stolen moments and whispered promises. With a final, lingering look at the man who had betrayed her trust, Vanessa turned and fled from his office.

The rain outside, which had seemed a mere annoyance moments ago, washed the tears away from her face, but did less to soothe the rage within her. Under the heavy downpour, Vanessa vowed to stay away from men and relationship in general.

"Where the hell is Carolyn and why is she not here?" Vanessa wondered as the crisp white tablecloth felt alien beneath her fingertips.

Her eyes scanned the dimly lit restaurant which buzzed with hushed conversation and the clinking of glasses, looking for her best friend.

"Dressed to impress", so she is in a dress that flowed like midnight silk waiting for Carolyn to show up. Carolyn had invited her for a girl's night through a text, but the sly glint in her best friend's message and the cryptic "dress to impress, it'll be fun!" message had piqued Vanessa's curiosity.

Now, she was seated at a table meant for four, a single, flickering candle casting wavering shadows across the pristine white plates. Vanessa scanned the room and disappointment gnawed at her. There was no sign of Carolyn's face or her infectious laugh.

A waiter, his smile as polished as the silver serving tray he balanced, materialized beside her. "Can I get you something to drink, miss?" he inquired, his voice smooth as velvet.

"No," Vanessa replied with hesitation. "Actually," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "I'm waiting for someone. My friend, Carolyn."

The waiter's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he schooled it back into professional courtesy. "Of course, miss. Please let me know if you need anything while you wait."

He retreated, leaving Vanessa alone with her swirling thoughts. She thought of different scenarios that might have delayed Carolyn. She knew her friend was a punctual person, but she was surprised by her lateness today.

Had Carolyn forgotten about her plans? Or was this one of her elaborate pranks? A pang of annoyance mingled with the disappointment gnawed at Vanessa as she sat on the table, waiting impatiently for her best friend.

She picked up her phone, the familiar weight a comfort in the unfamiliar setting. A part of her wanted to call Carolyn, to demand an explanation. But another part, a curious one, felt strangely compelled to stay. Maybe there was more to this evening than Carolyn had let on.

As minutes stretched into a quarter-hour, Vanessa caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, was approaching the table, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. He was holding a single red rose, its velvety petals contrasting sharply with his dark suit.

Her heart skipped a beat as the man walked towards her with an unwavering stare. Vanessa straightened in her seat, a nervous flutter rising in her stomach. She doesn't want to get herself involved with any man since what has transpired between her and Emmy.

The man's smile widened as he reached the table, the red rose held out like a hesitant offering.

"Vanessa? I presume? I'm Samuel, Carolyn's friend." His voice boomed, ill-suited to the hushed atmosphere of the restaurant.

"Damn it, Carolyn," Vanessa mumbled underneath her breath as realization dawned on her. So this was the surprise Carolyn planned for her. A blind date disguised as a girl's dinner. She thought as she was looking at the man.

Masking her irritation, Vanessa offered a tight smile, her initial surprise morphing into a low-grade irritation. Blind dates were one thing, but a blind date with a man whose voice could shatter crystal was another entirely.

She could have left this unexpected date in the restaurant, but Vanessa chose to remain respectful until maybe, after a few minutes. The next hour unfolded in a blur of forced conversation and Samuel's endless anecdotes, each delivered with an enthusiasm that grated on Vanessa's nerves.

She had learned about his extensive sock collection. 'Extensive', she hissed. She also learned about his passion for competitive pigeon racing. Who the hell is interested in a pigeon race? Vanessa pondered with irritation. The most unbearable was his unwavering belief in the healing power of polka music.

With each passing minute of the forced conversation, Vanessa's smile became more strained, her polite nods less convincing. The image of Carolyn, cackling with delight at Vanessa's discomfort, flickered in her mind. Was this her best friend's idea of fun?

Finally, Vanessa was pushed to the edge by a particularly graphic description of Samuel's prize-winning pigeon.

Vanessa rose from her seat. "Thank you for the evening, Samuel," she said, her voice laced with forced cheer, "but I think I'll call it a night."

Disappointment flooded Samuel's face, momentarily eclipsing his usual bubbles. "Oh, of course! No worries at all. Maybe we can-"

He never finished the sentence. As Vanessa pivoted on her heel, her purse swinging wide, colliding with a passing waiter. A yelp escaped the man's lips as his tray went flying, a crystal flute filled with ruby-red liquid arcing through the air.

Time seemed to slow down as the flute shattered against the wall behind a couple enjoying a quiet dinner, splattering the man's white shirt with a large stain. The woman with the man, her face contorted in fury, looked like she might erupt in fury.

Vanessa's cheeks burned with a mixture of mortification and anger. This was a disaster of epic proportions. A girl's dinner gone wrong by turning into a blind date, a ruined outfit of an innocent couple. Now, the man is left looking like an extra in a horror movie.

Steeling her nerves, Vanessa approached the unfortunate victim. "I'm... really sorry," she offered a stammering apology, her voice barely audible above the stunned silence that had descended upon the restaurant.

Her eyes traveled around the man's shirt, the stain on his shirt worse than expected. "I am so incredibly sorry!" Vanessa stammered again, panic rising in her chest.

The woman with the man, clearly fuming, fixed a withering stare on Vanessa. With the threatening glare, Vanessa felt a desperate urge to crawl under the table.

"Please...." She tried again, but before she could apologize further, the man himself spoke.

A smile played on his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes as she fixed his gaze kn Vanessa. "Easy there, don't worry about it," he said, his voice a smooth drawl.

"But," Vanessa interjected, trying to apologize further.

"Spills happen." He looked down at his now ruined shirt, then back at Vanessa with a glint of something more than just amusement. "Besides," he continued, leaning forward slightly, "a little excitement might be just the spice this date needs." The man said without showing regard for his date.

His date decided to join the conversation, so her presence could be known as well. "This is a brand-new Armani!" she hissed, her voice laced with a sharp disapproval that seemed directed more at Vanessa than her date.

Vanessa opened her mouth to apologize again, but the man cut her off again with a gentle, placating gesture. "It's alright, honey," he soothed, turning from his date to Vanessa with a reassuring smile.

"Your shirt can be cleaned immediately", Vanessa suggested, since his date won't let it slide.

"That's fine" he said, staring at Vanessa, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "If you insist, I won't argue with a pretty lady like you," he said as he rose from his position at the table.

Vanessa led the way from the scene of the accident to the receptionist's desk. Darryl followed her, enjoying the sight of Vanessa's behind.

"By the way, I'm Darryl Peter" the man said as they walked towards the elevator leading to the hotel part of the building.

"I'm Vanessa" she replied, leaving no room for chitchat.

As the elevator doors opened, Darryl Peter stepped out first, taking a moment to blatantly admire the way Vanessa's figure hugged her dress as he followed close behind her.

His thoughts and internal monologue was a whirlwind of possibilities, each one ending with Vanessa succumbing to his sexual advances. Oblivious of Darryl's thoughts, Vanessa took each step elegantly, swinging her hips as she searched for the room number given to her.

Finally, she found the room, and she and Darryl became the latest occupants of the room. Inside, Darryl wasted no time, shrugging off his damp shirt, revealing a toned torso he clearly took pride in maintaining. Vanessa, however, remained focused. She bypassed the seduction attempt entirely, instead heading straight for the phone on the nightstand.

With a practiced ease that spoke of a life well-managed, she dialed a number and spoke in a no-nonsense tone.

"Laundry service, please. Yes, there's been a spill on a guest's shirt."

"Room..." She took a quick glance at the door to confirm the number, "...412. Yes, white linen, urgent cleaning preferred."

Darryl, watching her with a now slightly deflated ego, attempted a cocky grin. "Efficient, I like that in a woman."

Vanessa gave him a withering look that could curdle milk. "Wouldn't you agree?" Her voice was polite, but the edge was unmistakable.

Darryl cleared his throat, the playful glint in his eyes fading. He hadn't anticipated this kind of woman. He was used to a more receptive audience, one that melted under his charm.

This one is probably the same, she is just pretending. Determined to get Vanessa by all means, he formulated a better plan. The type that Vanessa wouldn't be able to resist.

Silence enveloped Vanessa and Darryl as they waited for laundry service. An hour crawled by, each minute feeling like an eternity while waiting for Darryl's shirt.

Persistent Darryl tried to make conversation with Vanessa, but she had refused to engage in his flirting games. She had no interest in someone who left his date downstairs to flirt with another woman.

Finally, a long-awaited knock at the door broke the awkward silence. Relief washed over Vanessa as she answered the door. The charade, this unexpected detour in her evening, could finally come to an end.

"Thank you," she said with a curt to the unseen hotel staff member who delivered the clean shirt.

She handed the shirt to Darryl, mumbling a quick apology, who pretended to be occupied with his phone after Vanessa ignored his previous attempt.

Vanessa grabbed her phone and left the room, hoping to never meet Darryl again. Downstairs, as she settled the bill for the ill-fated damages, a horrifying realization dawned on her.

Her purse wasn't with her. Panic clawed at her throat as she realized that her purse was missing. Had she left it on her table? Back in the room? Quickly, she retraced her steps, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach with every floor she ascended.

The room was empty, the bed neatly made, all traces of Darryl Peter gone except for a faint whiff of his cologne. The sight was unbelievable to her. She had left Darryl there a while ago, now he was gone with her purse.

Her purse, her money, her identification cards, her credit card– all vanished. Frustration and a surge of anger replaced the panic. This charming stranger, this Casanova wannabe, had somehow managed to turn a spilled drink into a full-blown disaster. Why would he take her purse?

Defeated, Vanessa sank onto the plush armchair in the room, her head in her hands. What can she do in a situation like this? There was only one person she could turn to in this mess.

Thankfully, her phone was with her and not in her purse. The only person she could call right now was Carolyn. Carolyn was the one who caused it in the first place. She dialed Carolyn's number, and Carolyn answered.

"My purse is missing. Someone took it." She complained, her voice tight with worry. Vanessa poured out the entire story of the disguised blind date, the spilled wine, the flirtatious stranger, the missing purse, hoping her best friend could help navigate this unexpected twist in her evening.

"Calm down, Vanessa. Don't panic. Don't worry. I'm on my way to you", Carolyn assured her, helping her ease the tension.

"Don't take too long, I'm waiting" Vanessa told her best friend over the phone.

"I won't," Carolyn assured her before ending the call.

Relief flooded Vanessa's face as Carolyn swept through the hotel lobby doors, a whirlwind of concern and determination. Together, they recounted the entire ordeal to the receptionist, their voices rising in a desperate plea.

Vanessa, already on edge, watched with growing frustration as the receptionist remained impassive, citing privacy policies.

"How can you talk about privacy policy when my purse his missing. My ID card and credit card are all gone," she snapped at the receptionist and Carolyn calmed her down. Carolyn took her to the corner, assuring her to come back with Darryl's contact.

Without wasting time, Carolyn came back with Darryl Peter's contact information without explaining how she got it. Vanessa, who was pretty much occupied in getting back her belongings, dialed the number with trembling fingers. She didn't make any introduction, and she didn't wait for him to make any introduction as she poured out her mind, accusing him.

"You took my purse" Vanessa's voice, laced with anger, accused Darryl of taking her purse.

"You left it, and I was only holding onto it" he said, his smooth charm faltered slightly over the phone.

Vanessa scoffed at his defense, a flimsy claim of simply "holding onto it" because she'd forgotten it.

"You should have returned it to me, immediately. Why did you leave the room if you had no other motive?" She asked, accusations laced in her voice.

"Something urgent came up," Darryl replied, casually.

"So how do I get my purse back?" Vanessa demanded, her voice tight with barely controlled fury.

A suggestive chuckle came through the receiver. "Well, Vanessa," Darryl's voice dripped with insinuation, "perhaps a little dinner date could be arranged. Consider it a finder's fee." And the line went dead.

Vanessa slammed the phone down on the counter, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "A date?" She uttered in disbelief.

Carolyn squeezed her friend's shoulder in silent support. She blamed herself for the accidental encounter between Darryl and Vanessa, and she must be more than guilty about it.

Everything had spiraled into a full-blown nightmare, but Carolyn remained by Vanessa's side, and Vanessa knew they'd find a way to navigate the mess created by the purse-snatching Casanova.

Fury vibrated off Vanessa in waves as Carolyn drove her back to her apartment. "The nerve of that – that Darryl Peter character!" she exploded, launching insults aimed squarely at him and, by extension, the entire male population as a whole.

"He was on a date with his girlfriend? And shamelessly hitting on me? And now this...holding my purse hostage for a date? Unbelievable!"

Carolyn listened while her eyes remained on the road, a knowing glint in her eyes. She understood Vanessa's frustration. "Alright, alright," Carolyn soothed. "He sounded like a complete jerk, no arguments there. But getting angry won't get your purse back."

Vanessa slumped further into the passenger seat, the anger slowly morphing into resignation. "So what do I do? Let him blackmail me into dinner?"

"Not exactly blackmail," she countered. "Think of it as a... retrieval mission. You go, you get your purse back, and hopefully never see that slimy Casanova again."

Vanessa scoffed. The idea of willingly stepping foot in the same room as Darryl Peter was less than appealing. "But Carolyn, what if he tries something again?"

"Then you unleash a verbal beatdown of insults on him ," Carolyn declared with mock seriousness, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "Besides, I'll be there for moral support and all."

Vanessa wasn't interested in meeting Darryl, but seeing the unwavering determination in her friend's eyes, Vanessa knew she wouldn't be easily swayed.

Three pleas later, with Carolyn painting a vivid picture of a purse-less future filled with endless inconvenience, Vanessa finally conceded.

"Fine," she grumbled, defeat lacing her voice. "But this is strictly a purse-retrieval mission. No dinner, no flirting, and if he even breathes wrong, I won't go easy on him."

A triumphant smile spread across Carolyn's face. "That's the spirit! Just get your purse back."

Vanessa, despite her apprehension, couldn't help but crack a small smile. She knew Carolyn saw her situation with Darryl as an adventure, and she wondered why?