9. Isabella
Mypulse quickened with a mix of nerves and excitement as the elevator doors parted, revealing the bustling third floor of the PrismSociety. The last time I had been here, the rain had cast a solemn mood, but today, sunlight flooded through the large atrium, infusing the space with a sense of possibility.
Threedays had passed since the almost kiss with Max happened in the vineyard. My eyes had been locked on the fullness of his lips as he leaned down and down and down. And like an alarm clock going off way too early, the demand of a drunk girl had zapped us out of it. I’d spent the last three days wondering what he would’ve tasted like. How he liked to kiss.
Clearingmy head, my eyes scanned over the vast room that lay before me like a painter’s canvas, bathed in the warmth of the sunbeams filtering down from the clear blue sky above, visible through the geometric dance of the atrium’s glass panels. Today, that same sky lent an almost ethereal quality to the room, a stark contrast to the stormy gray that had greeted me before.
Withthe wine-tasting event drawing closer each day—two weeks and six days to go—the pressure was mounting for me to bring my vision to life. In a move born of both desperation and inspiration, I had reached out to Emma, who had a talent for turning the mundane into the sublime. Emma’s skills in design had already transformed the club into a beacon of luxury, and I was counting on it to conjure that same magic for Max’s event.
Emma’sfootsteps indicated her arrival, her heels clicking a confident rhythm on the marble. “Izzy!” she called out, her face alight with the thrill of a new project. “Ready to create something unforgettable?”
“Thank you so much for your offer.” I sighed, already overwhelmed. “I was already beginning to drown in decisions. What color should the tablecloths be? What’s the right music? What about table settings?” I rattled off a few of the items that were spinning around in my mind.
Icalmed as Emma rested a warm hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got you. There’s no reason you have to figure this out alone. We’re family here at the PrismSociety. You’re one of us now.” Emma winked at me as she circled the space, pulling up a sketch on her iPad.
Icouldn’t help the envy that laced my gut when I looked at Emma. Someone who was so young yet so sure. She had her dream career, a booming luxury interior design business, her dream partner, the very handsome Liam, and great friendships.
“So tell me what you’re thinking,” Emma said, interrupting my thoughts. “What’s the vibe?”
Itook a deep breath, and my apprehensions slightly eased. “I’m thinking of deep hues, velvety tones, and an ambiance that invites guests to lose themselves in the wine and chocolate experience.”
Emma, looking down at her iPad, nodded enthusiastically. “I love that. Maybe we can bring in some moody flowers to go with your Enchanted theme.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice raised in excitement. “What if it’s, like, a secret garden-type experience? Each tasting could be set to a different vibe in little corners around the room. Is that too much?” I worried that my big ideas wouldn’t be able to come to life and that I was asking too much from Emma.
“‘Too much’ is not a phrase we use here at the PrismSociety, Iz,” Emma said, “Too much is my favorite way to do things.”
Ihelped Emma map out the zones for each of our tasting experiences. There would be purple orchids and moss for the port tasting, pink peonies and ivy for the Chardonnay, cream roses to go with the Champagne, orange ranunculus and cinnamon sticks for the Syrah, and finally, deep red roses and eucalyptus for the CabernetSauvignon.
Thisevent was going to be next level. I already had a list of floral pieces to order, tablecloths to reserve, and lighting to figure out. Emma offered her team up to create any sort of signage or wall backdrops for the event.
Wecould have small wooden signage directing guests to the next tasting, leading them further into the secret garden of flavors. Emma gave me the idea of lighting the pathways with floor lanterns and hanging string lights from the atrium windows to add a magical feel.
“Ah, there she is.” Jessie burst through the door with her portfolio of set design ideas clutched tightly under her arm. I turned as Emma tugged her best friend, Jessie, into a hug. Emma had brought Jessie in to help with building some of the elements for the event. Max had filled me in on the drama that had unfolded with the design firm Emma and Jessie had worked at. It turns out not everyone is super cool with the whole sex club vibe.
Emmahad taken the leap and started her own firm and hired Jessie as a contractor here and there. Jessie, with her ridiculous woodworking skills had gotten to stay at Spectra, but I got the vibe that wasn’t going to last for much longer. I’d picked up on some vibe between Jessie and Dom whenever they were in the same room together, but no one had shared any insight, so I let it be.
Whilethey worked, laughter bubbled up from down the hall, drifting from the partially open door of the back office. I had peeked inside to see Max, Liam, and Dom, a trio of easy camaraderie, each with a beer in hand, their banter as light as the foam on their drinks. The sight of them, so at ease and content in each other’s company, filled me with a quiet joy. It was a reminder of the friendships that thrived within the walls of the PrismSociety.
Asthe afternoon light softened, we spread Jessie’s sketches across the table, engrossed in a world of creativity as we discussed incorporating whimsical elements to bring our secret garden theme to life. We envisioned hanging lights to mimic the delicate twinkle of stars and pathways lined with soft, glowing lanterns, inviting guests to wander and explore.
Theatmosphere in the club was electric, charged with creativity and the hustle of preparation. Jules, the front desk manager known for her charm and efficiency, breezed in to offer her support. She assured us she’d handle any overflow of reservations brought on by the event, seamlessly integrating herself into the whirlwind of activity.
Myprimary hope was for Max to see and love the world we were creating. I wanted this event to be more than a showcase of exquisite wines. I aimed for it to be a reflection of Max’s journey and his sommelier expertise. It was essential for me that Max saw this space as a true testament to his hard work and dedication to the craft of wine.
Amidstthe flurry of preparations, I couldn’t help the flutter in my belly surrounding the stakes of Max’s upcoming sommelier exam. Passing would not only elevate the PrismSociety’s wine program, making it a standout feature of the club, but it would also cement our status within the elite circle of wine connoisseurs. The prospect of bringing in more business, especially with members who were here for the wine and what the sultry club offered, was exciting. WithMax’s test a month away, the pressure was like a simmering pot of water.
Witheach detail for the event falling into place, my vision became more vivid and more real. And when the day’s work was done, as the others headed out, Max pulled me aside. He’d received a notification: tomorrow, the special selection of wines for the event would be delivered.
“Think you could help me with a wine tasting tomorrow?” he asked, a hopeful note in his voice. “Could use your palate and your expertise.”
Myface broke into a wide, genuine smile. “I’d love to,” I said. And with that, the promise of tomorrow’s tasting lingered in the air, a tantalizing preview of the magic we were about to create.
* * *
Fridayafternoon held a quiet hush over the PrismSociety, the kind that settles over a stage when the audience has yet to arrive. The club was closed to the public, but within its walls, anticipation was being uncorked, its bouquet ready to fill the room.
Maxhad transformed one of the plush, curved booths in the lounge into a private tasting tableau. The seating, which normally embraced groups in the revelry of the night, now held a more intimate arrangement. It was set with precision and care, with each glass sparkling under the subdued glow of the wall sconces, their light dimmed to a warm, inviting hue.
Thetable was draped in a charcoal velvet cloth that caught the light, its surface a study in understated elegance. Atop it, the array of crystal stemware was laid out like instruments awaiting the conductor’s hand, each glass promising a different timbre and tone of the wines they were soon to hold.
Istepped into the space, a smile spreading across my face as I took in the scene. Max had thought of everything. He’d created a tiny tasting experience just for us. The chocolates I’d picked laid out on a platter in the middle of the table, and two small flickering candles sat in mercury glasses, the shadowed light casting shapes on the table.
Theair was cooler here, the light danced in flickers across the glasses, and the table seemingly shaded away from the hanging chandeliers. Here, in this hallowed space of comfort and luxury, the outside world felt leagues away. The lounge was a sanctuary, its ambiance a gentle embrace.
Iwalked over to the booth, my fingers grazing the back of the velvet upholstery. I thought we’d throw back a couple of ounces of wine like we had at the vineyard to make our final selections to go with the rest of the chocolates. ButMax had created an experience for us instead.
Max, with a bottle already in hand, greeted me with an easy smile, his excitement barely contained. “Ready to taste some magic?” he asked, his eyes shining with the same fervor I felt bubbling inside me.
Inodded, my anticipation palpable. “I can’t believe you did all this,” I replied, taking my seat and allowing myself to be fully absorbed by the moment.
“I wanted to practice creating more of an experience with this tasting, to prepare for the event. Will you judge me if I go full-on sommelier tonight?” Max asked with a bit of a blush.
“By all means, wow me with all your nerdy knowledge, Mr. Sommelier,” I said as I slid further into the booth.
Max’sgrin widened at my challenge, a playful glint in his eye as he assumed the role of the evening’s guide into the world of fine wines. He uncorked the first bottle, a ceremony in itself, the subtle pop a prelude to the evening’s symphony.
“As we embark on this journey,” Max began, pouring a ruby liquid that seemed to capture the fading daylight in its depths, “we’ll explore not just the taste, but the story of each wine. How it speaks of its origin, the earth where the grapes were lovingly cultivated.”
Ileaned forward, my elbows on the table, my chin resting on my interlocked fingers. “Tell me its secrets,” I teased, watching the wine swirl in my glass, creating a small vortex of aroma and anticipation.
Maxplayed along, adopting a mock-serious tone. “This first contender hails from a vineyard where the fog lingers like a whisper of ancient tales. It’s a PinotNoir, with whispers of cherry and a hint of spice. It should play well with the dark chocolate, don’t you think?”
Thewine was cool on my lips, the flavor blooming on my palate as I took my first sip. I closed my eyes, savoring the layers as they unfolded. “Mmm, it’s like the first crisp night of fall,” I mused.
Maxchuckled as he said, “I love how you describe what you’re tasting.”
Hewatched me with appreciation as I described the experience, my enthusiasm stoking his own. With a flourish that demonstrated his increasing comfort in his role, he presented the next bottle, a Champagne, with the light catching its graceful curves. “Now, let’s elevate the experience,” he announced, his voice a mix of reverence and excitement. “A little sparkle to cleanse our palates.”
Heexpertly popped the cork, the sound a festive exclamation point in the lounge’s quiet. TheChampagne fizzed to life as Max poured it into our flutes, the bubbles racing to the surface like tiny dancers in a rush to perform.
Thewine was a vivacious contrast to the PinotNoir, with each sip full of effervescence and hints of green apple and toasted brioche. “It’s like a celebration in a glass,” I remarked, the corners of my mouth rising with delight as the bubbles tingled on my tongue.
Maxnodded, his eyes reflecting the golden hues of the drink. “Exactly. It’s meant to invigorate the senses, to prepare us for the next act of our tasting journey.”
Oureyes met over the rim of their glasses, a silent toast to the moment.
“Will it be weird if I ask you to come sit by me?” I asked as I reached out, my hand brushing Max’s as I passed back the bottle. The contact was brief but electric, a current that seemed to flow through both of us, leaving a lingering warmth. “Or will that break some sommelier rule?”
Max’ssmile broadened, a soft light glinting in his eyes as he inched even closer, erasing the scant space that had remained between us. His presence was a tangible warmth, a magnetic pull I found myself powerless to resist. Every brush of his clothing against mine, every shared breath, proved our very heartbeats were syncing in that moment.
“Your turn to impress me,” Max said, popping the cork of the CabernetSauvignon. “Describe this one.”
Itook a slow sip, my gaze never leaving Max’s. “Bold,” I started, each word deliberate, “with an unapologetic intensity. It doesn’t ask for your attention, it demands it. Just like someone I know.”
“Bold and demanding, huh?” he echoed, his voice laced with an undeniable intrigue that sparked a flutter in my chest. His gaze lingered on mine, deep and searching, as if he was trying to read the unspoken words dancing behind my eyes. “Sounds familiar, but I’m curious to hear more about this . . . intensity.”
Theatmosphere was thick with an unspoken promise, a silent acknowledgment of the connection unfurling between us. The outside world seemed to fade away, leaving the two of us in our bubble of shared glances and whispered words. The wine, rich and complex on my tongue, was no match for the complexity of emotions swirling within me.
Wewere down to our last wine, but I didn’t want the night to end. I liked how I felt around Max. LikeI didn’t have to pretend to have it all together for once. I could sit here for hours, sipping wine and flirting.
AsI reached for the lone piece of chocolate, our hands brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through me. Max’s eyes, usually so confident and focused, held a softness, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before. It was as if, in this secluded space, we were allowing ourselves to drop the fa?ades, to truly see and be seen.
“What about the port? The one that pairs with the dark chocolate and sea salt.” I eyed the lone chocolate left on the platter. The only one without a chunk bitten out of it.
“The problem is, ports are notoriously harder to select,” Max said. “Smaller vineyards typically don’t attempt to make them so we might have to go with something more well-known.”
“Well,” I started, my voice teasing the edges of a playful scheme, “we could always raid my parents’ cellar.”
Therewas a look on Max’s face that I couldn’t quite pin down. But the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile, and I knew he was in.