A little later, we arrived in front of a building that looked very much like a restaurant. He parked the taxi and invited me to get out. I followed without hesitation.

When I saw the name of the restaurant and all the luxury it radiated, I wondered how he could afford to come here. One meal alone could cost him a whole day’s salary!

“I hope this guy isn’t about to pull one of those tricks I’ve heard of,” I thought nervously.

Unable to bear the suspense, I asked him what we were doing there.

“You’re too curious,” he replied. “I just want you to have a good time before going home.”

A good time? At whose expense? I had no cash on me and hated embarrassing situations. Better to leave before things turned awkward. I was already heading to the exit when I felt his hand grip my arm.

“Where do you think you’re going? Why don’t you trust me? Yes, I’m a taxi driver, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have connections. This restaurant belongs to a good friend of mine.”

“Hmmm,” I muttered skeptically.

“Don’t just stand there. Let’s sit down somewhere,” he added.

Still doubtful, I followed him. Once seated, a waitress approached and addressed him with courtesy and respect:

“Good evening, Mr. Lowe. We’re delighted to have you with us tonight. A special buffet is reserved for our regular clients like you. I hope it meets your expectations.”

She handed him a menu before leaving. I took it and skimmed through the dishes — they looked delicious, but when I saw the prices, my eyes nearly popped out.

“A Niçoise salad for twelve thousand francs? Goodness! Eat this and live forever? Are you sure you can afford a meal here? I don’t want to end up working as a cleaner to pay it off,” I teased.

As soon as I finished speaking, I noticed his face change. He looked pale. He signaled to the waitress.

“Yes, sir?” she asked.

“We’ve changed our minds. We’ll take our order to go.”

“Alright.”

He paid in cash immediately. Once she left, he asked for my name. I told him, and then silence fell.

…

Twenty minutes later, the waitress returned with our package. He stood up and said:

“Get up, let’s go.”

I obeyed in silence, though inside I wondered what I had done wrong.

Back in the taxi, he asked where he could drop me off. I answered naturally, and silence returned.

Forty minutes later we arrived at my stop. He told me to get out. Unable to bear the tension anymore, I asked:

“Is something wrong? Why did you suddenly become so strange?”

He smiled faintly.

“You know, women like you don’t belong with men like me. I’m just a hustler, earning my bread honestly. When I saw you earlier, I thought fate had given me a chance. Maybe we were destined to meet again. But the way you judged me, I realize now that we’re not from the same world. I’ll stay in my place. Thank you for accepting my invitation, even if I forced it a little.”

I was speechless, and guilt washed over me. I never meant to make him feel that way — I just didn’t want him to waste his money on me.

Full of remorse, I said:

“I’m truly sorry. I never wanted to give you that impression.”

He looked at me for a long moment and then replied:

“It’s not your fault. You’ve been treated like trash for so long that you can’t even recognize a good man anymore. Take care of yourself.”

He started the engine and drove away. I watched until his taxi disappeared from sight before walking to my apartment, my heart heavy.

---

The weeks passed quickly, and I heard no more from him. Simon never contacted me either. Life returned to normal, though sometimes I caught myself thinking of that man.

One morning, I woke early for work. We had surgery scheduled first thing. As I left my apartment, I noticed a taxi parked outside my door. When I tried to walk past, the driver flashed his headlights at me. Suspicious, I quickened my pace, ready to defend myself if he tried anything.

Seeing that I wouldn’t stop, the driver finally got out and called me by name.

Startled, I turned sharply.

“You always make that face in the morning?” he teased.

Oh my God… It was him. Mr. Lowe, the taxi driver. What was he doing here?

“Are you going to just stand there? Come, I have something for you,” he said, pulling something from his pocket. It looked like earphones.

I recognized them immediately, though I couldn’t recall when I’d lost them.

“You left these in my taxi last time. Here!” He handed them to me.

“You didn’t need to trouble yourself over simple earphones. You can keep them. Excuse me now, I have to go,” I said curtly.

“Hm, what am I even doing here? You’re so rude. No wonder men run from you,” he snapped.

I was about to leave, but I spun around and asked him to repeat himself.

“You’re rude, Miss. Very rude, disrespectful, and impolite,” he said firmly.

“What?! You show up at my house and insult me when I didn’t ask for you? Who do you think you are? Get out of my sight!”

He strode toward me angrily, stopping right in front of me.

“Repeat what you just said!” he demanded.

I admit I felt a little fear then, but my false courage took over. I opened my mouth to repeat it word for word — but what happened next left me speechless. He kissed me.

A shock ran through my whole body. I tried to resist, but he tightened his hold. When he finally released me, I was floating like on a cloud.

Leaning close, he whispered:

“I’ll tame you, my wild horse. Now get in — I’ll drop you off, unless you want to be late for work.”

Dazed, I obeyed.

When we reached my destination, he asked:

“What time should I come pick you up?”

“Who said I want to see you again?” I retorted.

Of course, deep down, I wanted nothing more than to see him again. But I had to play hard to get.

Seeing my hesitation, he asked again:

“At what time, princess?” His puppy-dog eyes almost made me laugh.

Unable to resist, I burst out laughing. “What am I going to do with this man?” I thought.

“Fine, you win. Come pick me up at 4 p.m., and don’t be late. I hate waiting.”

He grinned broadly and left.

Wow… this day was off to a surprising start. I hurried into work and immersed myself in surgeries and consultations.

…

At 4 p.m., I was already on my way out. He arrived five minutes late.

“You’re late, sir. And I told you I don’t like waiting,” I said, frowning, though inside I was thrilled.

“Sorry, princess. I had a last-minute issue. What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked, opening the passenger door for me.

“Nothing. You’ve done enough already. Just take me home, please.”

He looked surprised but said nothing as he drove.

During the ride, he barely spoke. I was still cautious, but part of me longed to know him better.

When we reached my place, he stopped the car and said:

“Here we are. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“Not really. There’s one thing I’d like to know, if you don’t mind.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’d like to know your name.”

He gave a sly smile.

“Accept a date with me this Saturday, and you’ll have the answer to all your questions.”

He handed me a small slip of paper.

“Here’s my number. Save it and text me tonight with your answer.”

Before I could respond, he started the taxi and drove off.

“Lucky girl, lucky girl!” I whispered as I walked up to my apartment.

Back home, I showered and collapsed on the couch, replaying the day with a smile. How could I have let him kiss me so easily? I pulled the piece of paper from my pocket and stared at it.

“What should I do? Say yes or no?”

Doubts swirled in my head. I dropped the paper on the coffee table and switched on the TV. Fatigue eventually dragged me to sleep.

At 3 a.m., I woke with a start and went to bed. At 5:15 my alarm rang, dragging me from my slumber.

By 6:40 I was dressed for another day. Sitting in a taxi, I suddenly remembered the paper.

“Damn! I forgot to message him. I’ll do it tonight,” I decided.

At the end of the day, I went home, secretly hoping to see him outside the hospital. No luck. Back at my apartment, the first thing I did was save his number and send him a message:

“Hi, how are you?”

I waited. No response. I showered and tried again at 8 p.m., though I knew it seemed desperate:

“Hello, hope you’re well. Sorry for not replying sooner… Saturday, what time?”

Nervous, I bit my lip, hoping this time he’d answer.

And then my phone buzzed.

“Took you long enough. Thanks for the apology — it shows you’re still salvageable. Saturday, I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m. Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reading his reply, butterflies danced in my stomach.

“What’s happening to me? Get a grip, Elsa. You barely know him — maybe he’s just a player. Well, whatever. I’ve already agreed to the date. If he plays me, I’ll play him right back.”

The weekend came quickly. I pampered myself all day — the first date is the real battlefield. I chose a tight raspberry-pink dress, heels, and a discreet clutch. And, of course, my ultimate weapon: perfume.

When I finished, I looked in the mirror.

“Damn, what a bombshell!” I said to myself.

At exactly 7 p.m., my doorbell rang.

“He’s right on time. Impressive!” I thought, hurrying to open the door.

“Who is it, please?” I called out.

No answer. Curious, I opened the door anyway — and my heart nearly dropped to my feet.

Furious, I blurted out:

“What are you doing here?”

It was Simon.

“You miss me, baby. Let me in, please. We need to talk,” he begged.

“We have nothing to say. As you can see, I’m going out. Someone is waiting for me. So get lost now!”

He was about to protest when a deep, smooth voice interrupted:

“Sorry to intrude. I hope I’m not disturbing?”

I turned, and my eyes fell on him. My God… he looked incredible. I was hypnotized.

Simon snapped, “Yes, you’re disturbing! And who the hell are you?”

Jealous much?

The man smiled, took my hand, and said:

“Shall we go?”

“Let me just lock the door, and I’m all yours,” I replied.