We walked together to his car. This time, it wasn’t a taxi but a magnificent black 4x4. My jaw nearly dropped.

“What?! He has this kind of car too? So why is he driving a taxi?” I wondered.

Simon stood there frozen, watching us, his mouth hanging open. He was clearly just as shocked as I was.

Once inside the car, I couldn’t contain my curiosity.

“Excuse me, but whose car is this? Surely not yours?”

“Why not mine? You think a taxi driver can’t own this type of car?” he replied with a mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes. “Please, stop teasing me. Honestly, tell me.”

“All in good time, princess. For now, let’s focus on our evening,” he said, starting the engine.

I leaned back in the plush leather seat, confused and intrigued at the same time.

---

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at a classy lounge. He opened the door for me like a true gentleman and offered his arm. I felt like I was in a dream.

Inside, the atmosphere was elegant — dim lights, soft music, well-dressed couples. Heads turned when we entered. I could almost hear people whispering.

“Who is she?” “What a stunning couple.”

It made me blush.

We found a table near the stage. He ordered a bottle of champagne and some seafood dishes. The waitress seemed to know him well.

“Good evening, Mr. Lowe. Always a pleasure to have you here,” she said warmly.

“Thank you, Mireille. Bring us your best tonight,” he replied.

I sat there, speechless, trying to process everything. Who exactly was this man? He carried himself like someone important. He wasn’t just a simple taxi driver — I was certain now.

He caught me staring at him and chuckled.

“What’s wrong, princess? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m just… curious. I don’t understand you. Sometimes you’re driving a beat-up taxi, other times you’re here, ordering champagne like it’s nothing. Who are you, really?”

He leaned closer, his eyes locking on mine.

“All in good time. For now, just enjoy the moment. You deserve it.”

Something in his tone both reassured and unsettled me.

---

As the evening went on, we talked, laughed, and shared bits of our lives. I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn’t with anyone in a long time.

But each time I tried to dig deeper into his story, he dodged with a charming smile.

At one point, the live band began playing a slow song. He stood and extended his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

I hesitated, then slipped my hand into his. On the dance floor, he held me close, his scent enveloping me. For the first time in months, I felt truly alive.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

I blushed, lowering my eyes. “Thank you.”

The song ended, and we returned to our table. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and stolen glances.

When it was time to leave, he insisted on driving me home in the 4x4.

As we reached my building, he stopped the car and turned to me.

“I had a wonderful evening. I hope you did too.”

“I did… more than you know,” I admitted softly.

He leaned in, and before I knew it, our lips met. This kiss was different — tender yet full of promise. My heart raced.

When he pulled back, he whispered in my ear:

“Good night, princess. Sweet dreams.”

I got out of the car, my legs trembling. As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, my mind swirled with questions.

“Who is this man really? Why does he hide behind the wheel of a taxi when he clearly lives another life? What secret is he keeping from me?”

That night, sleep refused to come. Between the memory of his kiss and the mystery surrounding him, I knew one thing for sure:

This was only the beginning.