Chapter 10 Flipped
In downtown T City, a sleek black BMW cut through the evening crowds. Alison sat silent in the passenger seat, watching the blur of neon lights—none of it felt real.
Jack didn’t ask where she wanted to eat. He drove straight to a chic Italian bistro, bustling with dinner crowds. The hostess spotted them immediately, flashing a smile.
“Mr. Winston, welcome.” She handed a VIP card to the maître d’ and led them to a dimly lit private dining room. “Right this way, sir.”
Jack guided her to a candlelit table for two. Alison noted the intimate decor—clearly meant for lovers.
Seated, he signaled the server with a flick of his hand, “Two medium-rare steaks, fruit salads.”
Alison had never been to such a fancy place. The thought of rare steak made her anxious—she hated bloody meat. “Jack, could I have mine well-done?”
He sipped coffee, stirring slowly, his gaze steady. “Emily, you used to mock well-done steaks—called them ‘dry and chewy.’ Medium-rare was your go-to.”
Of course, she thought. Emily would prefer it rare.
Alison had no choice but to obey Emily’s flavor.
“Sure, whatever you say,” she said, forcing a nod. Her hands twisted under the table.
Their entrance had drawn stares, but Jack acted like this was routine—like they were a real couple.
Steaks arrived, sizzling. Jack dug in eagerly, slicing his meat neatly, adding a dab of mustard. Alison felt uneasy as she stared at the pink, half-raw meat.
Could her stomach bear it?
But she had no choice; she was Emily now, not Alison.
She fumbled with the knife, struggling to cut a bite. Jack chuckled, setting down his fork. “Let me,” he said, his voice warm and smooth.
He took her utensils, cut the steak into pieces, and pushed the plate toward her. For a moment, she was caught off guard by his gentleness—her heart flipped at the unexpected kindness.
Alison forced a bite, swallowing hard against the nausea rising in her throat.
She tried to eat, but halfway through, the rich flavor overwhelmed her and she nearly threw up.
“Go slow.” Jack smiled, spearing a piece from her plate. “Give it another try.”
His smile was disarming—she almost believed she was his lover, wrapped in his attention, lost in a lie. But she knew better.
Clumsily setting down her fork, she murmured, “I’m full, Jack.”
“Well...how about some salad? It used to be your favorite.”
“Thanks,” Alison replied politely but stiffly, the unfamiliarity of it all making her restless.
Under his watchful eye, she finished the small salad, and they left the restaurant. In the hallway, she walked silently beside him, flustered yet compliant as they drew curious stares. She climbed into his car, hyper-aware of the stares.
As he drove, confident and composed, Jack said, “You seem...off tonight, Emily.”
“No, I’m fine,” she responded quickly.
He smirked. “Good. The maid's off today. I tried calling earlier, but I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“Right,” she nodded, bowing her head. “I can clean and cook while I’m here.”
“Sure. But if you hate it, don’t blame me—I never force anyone.”
“I know,” her voice was quiet. If only I had a real job, she thought. But I can’t risk him finding out.
At the apartment, Jack kicked off his shoes, shirt already unbuttoned, and turned to her. “There’s only one bathroom. Do you want to shower first, or me? Or… together?”
Her cheeks flushed red.
“You… you go first,” she said. She hated the tension, the waiting. It was better to let him go first.
He headed to the bedroom, and soon the shower ran. The steady water only made her more nervous, reminding her of what awaited.
She switched on the television, hugging a pillow as she pretended to watch. In that moment, she felt like the drama’s heroine—adrift, happiness a distant dream…
A sudden scent of soap filled the room. She turned to find Jack in a towel, hair damp. “Emily, your turn.”
Alison kept her eyes down, cheeks flaming, and fled to the bathroom, desperate to escape his smirking gaze. Jack ran a hand through his hair, amused by her haste.