Chapter 22

Meanwhile, Michael ran to open the door. That was her. He had no doubts whatsoever. Through the door, or rather its slits, he could smell her sensual perfume.

“Good evening! I'm sorry for being late!” She said with a smile.

She didn't look like the magazines’ witch at all. She looked different, quite ordinary in blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up almost to the elbows, and a sophisticated collar that covered her long neck.

It was only now he noticed that she had a high, beautiful forehead, which she usually covered with bangs, beneath which lay her exquisite eyes and long eyelashes. He had never seen her like this before. Completely ordinary, but beautiful.

“Please! A bottle of good French wine, vintage 1977!” She said as she handed over the elegantly wrapped bottle.

Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside.

"Take a look around the house." Michael choked out. "And I'll take care of the dinner."