Читать The invitation is not for me/Приглашение не для меня - Лидия Антонова

The powder compact desperately resisted and didn't want to open – either it was frozen, or my hands were simply shaking.

The ambiance was also not conducive to tranquility. In the restaurant, even the bathroom was luxurious, with golden fixtures and a chandelier that belonged in a ballroom, patterned marble, and all this splendor was reflected in a hundred mirrors!

Amidst the luxurious setting, I felt insecure. Perhaps all the women present are adorned in diamond and haute couture dresses, while I remain unformatted.

How much does it cost to dine at this place? You don't get invited to places like this for nothing. Has Alex finally made up his mind?!

An offer?!

But why spend so much money? We still have a wedding to play.

Defeating the unyielding powder compact, I pulled out my powder puff and powdered thoroughly, removing traces of slightly mascara, touching up my lips, and combing out the tangles in my hair hat.

I took the invitation with me too, it was nothing special – just the name of the restaurant, the time, and the signature "A". It was a very romantic message to me, though. I pulled it out of a bouquet of red roses.

After twirling in front of the mirror and making sure I was ready, I went out into the hall. Alex wasn't there for some reason. I had to ask the receptionist. Probably stuck in traffic. "It's okay, he'll be here now. I'll wait, just sit at the table, I won't even order anything. Except for a coffee," I decided.

“Are you Marina?” asked the girl who looked like she was about to appear on the cover of Italian VOGUE.

"Yes," I said, a little surprised.

"I'll walk you out."

I followed her to the far corner, which was enclosed by a small lattice screen. Only the place was already occupied. A man in a dark suit and gray turtleneck sat at the table.

"There must be some mistake," I muttered as I saw the receptionist

leaving.

"There's no mistake. You didn't receive any flowers from me?" His voice was deep and velvety. But that was the last thing I was interested in at the moment.

“Are you saying you sent the flowers?” I snorted, intending to turn around and follow the

receptionist.

“I did. Please, sit down. Alex will be right with you. Literally from minute to minute.”

I froze. The news that my Alex was about to show up pleased me. But the tone of his voice was alert. Perhaps Alex had asked a friend to meet me, and he just didn't like me. Alex is a promising manager, and I'm just a simple teacher of Russian language and literature.