Snow arrived at 'The Gilded Spoon' a few minutes late, a nervous energy bubbling beneath her calm exterior. The restaurant was far too opulent for her taste, all velvet and polished silver. She spotted a man, tall and imposing, seated at a secluded table by a grand fountain. He had his back to her, a sharp, expensive suit covering broad shoulders. Must be him, she thought, a knot forming in her stomach.
She approached, her hand instinctively smoothing the simple, elegant black dress she'd chosen. "Excuse me," she began, her voice soft but clear. "Are you... waiting for a blind date?"
The man turned slowly. Andreas. His eyes, the color of a stormy winter sky, met hers. They were piercing, intense, and held a glint of something unreadable. Snow felt an unexpected jolt, a sudden awareness that was both unsettling and oddly captivating. He was far more handsome than she'd anticipated, with chiseled features and dark, swept-back hair. But also... incredibly severe. He looked like he ate CEOs for breakfast.
Andreas studied her. She wasn't what he expected. No flashy designer labels, no pretense. Her gaze was direct, curious, and a little wary. He almost offered a curt greeting, but then a mischievous impulse, one he rarely indulged, took hold. He decided to play along, just for a moment.
"Yes," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "I believe I am. Are you... my seven o'clock?"
Snow relaxed slightly, though she still found his intensity intimidating. "I suppose I am," she replied, offering a small, polite smile. "Snow White. It's nice to meet you."
He extended a hand, his grip firm and warm. "Andreas. Please, have a seat."
As she settled into the plush chair opposite him, a waiter approached. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Andreas?" he asked, bowing slightly.
Snow's eyes widened. "Mr. Andreas?" she whispered to him, confused. "Oh, my apologies! I thought you were... uh... perhaps the maître d', or maybe the owner just checking on things." She blushed, a faint pink dusting her cheeks. "I'm so sorry! I'm Snow White, your actual date is probably waiting somewhere else."
Andreas's lips, surprisingly, quirked upwards. A genuine, almost imperceptible smile. This woman truly had no idea who he was. It was refreshing. Amusing, even.
"No, Ms. White," he said, his voice laced with a subtle amusement that sent a strange flutter through her. "I am your date. And I assure you, I'm no maître d'." He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. "Though I suppose I could recommend something from the menu if you'd like."
Snow stared, mortified, then burst into a small, embarrassed laugh. It was a clear, melodic sound that momentarily broke through Andreas's carefully constructed composure. This wasn't going to be a boring night after all. And for the first time in a very long time, Andreas found himself genuinely curious about the woman sitting across from him.
Back to few moments ago.