Chapter 119 : "Why settle for five minutes, when you deserve the whole day?"

The name "Etoile" is written in a sleek, modern font above the restaurant's entrance. The letters are illuminated by a soft, white glow, casting an inviting ambiance. The restaurant itself is housed in a beautifully restored Art Deco building. The exterior is adorned with intricate stonework and gleaming glass windows.

Samir pushed open the heavy doors and was met with a breathtaking spectacle. Soaring ceilings, adorned with intricate crystal chandeliers that cascaded like frozen waterfalls, stretched overhead. Gleaming marble floors reflected the warm flicker of candlelight emanating from crystal chandeliers. The walls, painted in a deep shade of aubergine, were adorned with abstract paintings in bold strokes of gold and silver. Plush velvet armchairs were arranged in intimate clusters around low cocktail tables.

Samir approached the reception desk. A woman with a smile as polished as the marble greeted him. It's not the first time Samir was coming here, *"Mr. Rahman, welcome back to Etoile. Table 109 awaits you upstairs. Your friend has already arrived." 

Samir inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Anna."

He ascended the grand staircase. The upstairs dining area was a masterpiece of restrained elegance. In stark contrast to the bustling downstairs, only a handful of tables occupied the vast space. 

He didn't have to search for Table no 109 as he spotted Farah almost instantly. She was wearing a black one-piece. Her head was bent towards her phone, but even from afar, he could sense the familiar tilt of her chin. 

His approach was announced by the soft click of his shoes against the polished marble. Farah looked up, "You're late." She looked at her wrist watch, "Fourteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds, to be precise."

Samir slid into the chair opposite her, the plush velvet sinking beneath him like a sigh. "My apologies Miss. Something came up at home. Couldn't exactly leave my mother hanging. But enough about me, tell me, how are you?" 

Farah rolled her eyes, "I'm fine, same old. How about yourself?"

"Not a moment ago, I was a symphony of boredom. Now, with your presence, I'm a concerto of delight." Samir's words, dipped in honeyed flattery, would make a lesser woman swoon. But Farah was made of sterner stuff.

"Spare me the Romeo act," she scoffed. "If you start your flirting antics, I'm leaving."

Samir surrendered, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Truce, truce! Let's order. What would you like?"

Farah hesitated, "You order. I wouldn't dare touch the menu here. Everything here is priced by the carat, not the calorie."

Samir let out a hearty laugh, "Are you saying I'm not good for a splurge? I booked this table for you, Farah. A little appreciation for the effort wouldn't hurt."

"It's not that. This place is… too much. It's good for you 'mummy daddy type people,' not for me. I have to think ten times before even entering these fancy restaurants." Farah replied. 

Samir frowned, "What do you mean, 'mummy daddy types'?"

"People who are rich," Farah explained, "People who can afford to drop a month's salary on a single meal."

Samir burst into laughter, "Relax, Farah. I'm paying. Consider this an investment in friendship, hmm?"

Farah smiled, "Of course you will pay. You invited me, after all."

Samir caught the attention of a passing waiter and placed their order. Within minutes, the table was adorned with an array of dishes. Roasted duck with a cherry sauce, truffle fries shimmering with golden oil, Steaks cooked to medium-rare perfection and a green Salad. 

Swirling the wine, Samir asked, "So, how does Elara treat you these days?" 

Farah response came clipped, her fork slicing through the perfectly cooked steak with unnecessary force. "Good." 

Samir's brow furrowed. "Just good? Nothing SPECIAL? Does that mean a 5 out of 10, or a barely passing 6?

Farah's fork paused mid-air. "What are you trying to say, Samir?"

He leaned back in his chair, a playful smile playing on his lips. "Nothing. A little sign is enough for those who are willing to understand."

Farah took a sip of her water. Her fingers tightened around her water glass. 

"Five minutes," Farah began, "That's all I ask for. Five minutes of his time in a day. He is busy with work."

Samir leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on her. "Why settle for five minutes, when you deserve the whole day?"

Farah looked at Samir, his eyes locked onto hers. She saw that he hadn't even touched his food, all his attention consumed by her. 

Farah asked, "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I wanted to give you my undivided attention, I can't focus on you if I'm busy shoveling food into my face." he said simply. 

This line - it was a simple sentence. But it melted a part of Farah's heart. She didn't even realise that. Farah tapped lightly three times on plate with fork. 

"Undivided attention, huh?" she challenged, "Alright, Samir. If I tell you to do something for me, will you do it without question?"

The challenge seemed to invigorate Samir. Afterall a Rahman he is. He leaned forward, "Just tell me. Speak your desires. We Rahmans are good at crafting nightmares." 

"There's this classmate of mine," she began, "She did something…something horrible. Not just to me, but to my flatmates as well. And I want revenge."

Samir got interest. He sipped his wine, "What's her name?"

Farah shook her head, the glint in her eyes sharpening. "Not yet. I won't tell you now. But here's the thing, Samir. I don't want her dead. I want something… worse."

Samir nodded. His smile was sharper now, "Okay..... I'm ready. What else do you need?" 

Farah leaned closer, "Men. Strong men who can play. I need them tommorow evening to destroy her." 

"Tell me, how many players do you need. 2 or 3?" Samir asked while pouring the wine in his glass. 

Farah's eyes glittered like obsidian. "The more, the merrier. I want to turn her world into a nightmare." 

There was no need for further elaboration. Samir understood what Farah wanted to say. He saw her as she squeezed the lemon slice on her steak. But for a confirmation he asked, "Are you sure about this, Farah? It cannot be undone after once embarked upon." 

Farah met his gaze, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. "I'm sure. And I'm willing to dance with the devil himself if it means she gets what she deserves. I want her world to crumble around her until she's left shivering in the ruins of her own making." 

 Samir smiled, "As you wish. I wouldn't miss an opportunity to be at your side. I'll gather those men by tommorow." 

Farah finished her steak. She wiped her hand and mouth with the napkin, "Tomorrow. It has to be done tomorrow evening. I'll send you address."

When she about to rose from the chair but didn't because of Samir's voice, "Do you know what I like most about you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Samir's gaze shifted to her hand, resting carelessly on the table. He traced its outline with his eyes. 

"Your boldness," he replied while looking at her.

"Don't fall for me, Samir," she warned, "My boldness might cost you dearly someday."

A low laugh rumbled in Samir's chest. "Then I'll count it the sweetest price ever paid."

Just then, her phone buzzed, Elara's message lighting up the screen: "Waiting for you at the parking."

Farah sighed, "My boyfriend is here to pick me up. Bye."

Samir's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something akin to disappointment crossing his face. But it was quickly replaced by a charming smile.

"I can drop you," he offered, "No need to tell your boyfriend where you're going."

Farah scoffed, "I always tell Elara. What if something happens? Atleast he knows where I'm." 

Samir's eyes held a spark of challenge. "Then why not tell Elara about your mission? The mission you just entrusted me with. Maybe he could lend a hand, eh?"

Farah chuckled, "He has his own demons to fight, Samir. This is for me and my girls."

She rose from her chair with deliberate slowness, positioning herself with both arms on the table as she leaned over Samir. Their faces were in close but not that much. The dim light of the restaurant highlighted the contours of their expressions. Farah's eyes bore into Samir's, a subtle tension lingering in the air. The table acted as a barrier, separating them. 

With a hint of mischief, Farah spoke, "For this kind of stuff, I have you."