I walked into the restaurant and immediately saw her—Antonia Wilkins. She wore a perfectly pressed silver satin button-up shirt, a black pencil skirt, and pristine, unripped pantyhose underneath, paired with black one-inch leather boots, spotless and elegant. She was the epitome of class and sophistication.
Her majestic aura radiated as she observed the other restaurant guests eating and chatting. Nothing escaped her notice, which is why I subtly smoothed my light blue dress shirt, ensuring it was wrinkle-free, before making my way over to her.
“Antonia,” I greeted, a big smile on my face.
Her dark blue eyes met my forest green ones, and a broad smile lit up her delicate features. “Oh, Lydia, my dear!” She clasped her hands together as she stood, then opened them to give me a warm hug.
