Chapter 55 - Oliver

**OLIVER**

Oliver whistled a soft tune to himself as he stood in front of the mirror in his apartment. His tie was perfectly knotted, his suit immaculate. Satisfied, he ran his fingers through his light brown hair, creating an intentionally disheveled look, and gave his reflection a smug smile. But something was wrong. 

“Damn, I look way too tame,” he muttered, loosening his tie a bit. “If I really want to seduce a sexy woman like Emily Saron, I need to look more relaxed.” 

He loosened his tie completely and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. A questioning look followed - and a satisfied grin. “Well, that’s better,” he murmured, raising his eyebrows playfully. “Hi, beautiful woman.” He practiced his most charming look, but something was missing. He didn’t really come across as smart as he thought he would.

He let out a sigh as he tossed his tie into the corner and unbuttoned another. Then he stared at his nearly hairless chest. “Damn. Why don’t I have more chest hair?” He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “If Emily likes the dark-haired, rugged type, I’m done. But hey, not every woman likes the rough type. Maybe she prefers the smart, handsome type - a golden boy like me.” He winked at himself in the mirror.

“We’ll find out today, partner,” he said to his reflection, smiling mischievously. “Is she the threatening type or the smiling charmer?” he raised the corners of his mouth and practiced a small, confident nod. 

Oliver’s eyes wandered to the gold clutch bag on the dresser. Alexander Fitzpatrick had told an absolutely incredible story that Susanne might believe, but he would not - after all, he was an experienced man and could read the signs. That a woman like Emily, organized to the last detail and with a razor-sharp eye for order, would simply forget her handbag? No, that was impossible. But that was exactly what Alexander had claimed.

*“Emily and I spent the night together in my suite at the Excelsior Hotel. When we left the hotel in the morning, she must have forgotten the clutch. A maid found it at the dry cleaners and informed me immediately.”* 

To Oliver, however, the words sounded like a hastily concocted lie. Emily, the professional accountant, would certainly not be so casual about spending the night with her boss and then leaving her things behind the next morning. No, if Emily and Alexander had really become that close, Alexander would have driven her either directly to work or at least home so that she could change - assuming he cared about her well-being. Besides, Emily was contractually forbidden to give Alexander her address, her last name, or any other information that would allow him to find her. So she would have had to find her own way back. The mere thought that she had neither money for a taxi nor her apartment key with her only served to confirm Oliver’s suspicions: Alexander Fitzpatrick had lied. Oliver just couldn’t understand why.

“Does he want more from her than just professional companionship?” he wondered with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Alexander might be a tough opponent in business matters, but when it came to seduction, Oliver considered himself undefeated. He smiled at his reflection and nodded confidently. “Oliver Daron, today you give it your all. You must succeed in outwitting this Fitzpatrick.”

With a casual movement, he reached for his briefcase and slid the clutch bag into it with a certain satisfaction. The small golden bag, a piece of lost elegance, promised him that this day would offer him a wonderful opportunity. He locked his front door and felt a rush of anticipation. Today was the day he would win over the sweet yet mysterious Emily Saron.

“Today she won’t say no,” he murmured quietly. Oliver was sure - Emily hadn’t left the bag behind willingly, and that fact increased his chances of meeting her soon. Even if she had ignored his flowers on Wednesday, he knew that their next meeting was inevitable. Today, Oliver firmly believed, the tide would finally turn in his favor.

Elated and confident, Oliver took a taxi to the *Poseidon* Restaurant. The busy streets glided past him as he casually leaned back into the seat, glancing contentedly at his briefcase containing the golden clutch. The fact that he had managed to get a lunch table at *Poseidon* on such short notice only added to his confidence. It was as if the stars were at his feet, as if the universe itself was encouraging him that today would be his day - and Emily’s.

As soon as he arrived, the receptionist led him to a table in a semi-secluded corner where the lighting was dimmed and the ambiance was exclusive. It was the perfect setting for a charming dinner and whatever might follow. He smoothed his shirt again, glanced critically at his reflection in the glass wall next to him, and felt the familiar excitement rising within him. It wasn’t a desire for a deep connection he felt. No, he wasn’t looking for love, but for the thrill of the moment, the challenge of being the first to win over Emily Saron - even if only for a night or two. 

But then minutes passed. He ordered a still water, pushed the glass nervously back and forth across the table, and glanced around the elegantly furnished restaurant. His eyes kept wandering to the door, but Emily did not appear. For the first fifteen minutes, he tried to interpret the tension as anticipation, but then he shifted more and more in his chair and kept reaching for his cell phone. No message. No missed call. Nothing. Slowly, an uncomfortable feeling began to grow inside him.

He took the golden clutch from his briefcase, placed it on the table and looked at it intently, as if it could give him answers. You don’t just leave a bag like that behind, do you? Was it left behind on purpose? He hadn’t looked inside - could it be that it was empty and Emily didn’t need it? A small spark of insecurity crept into his thoughts - a feeling Oliver wasn’t used to and which irritated him all the more.

He looked at his watch. Thirty minutes had passed. His confidence was beginning to waver dangerously, like a precious statue about to topple. Had she really stood him up? The thought gnawed at his ego, making him wonder what he might have missed. Maybe she had really fallen for Alexander’s type - the cool charm, the aloof look?

Oliver sighed softly and raised his glass, but his throat suddenly felt dry. The tingle of challenge was still there, but something had changed. It was no longer a confident game; it was now a quiet fear that she might be sitting in another restaurant, in another suite - and that his lead over Alexander had only been an illusion.

His eyes darted back to the golden clutch bag. Should he open it and look inside?