Die Lucky: Gripping British Crime Thriller (Trentbridge Tales Book 8) by Lee Wood

Author:Lee Wood [Wood, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rollercoaster Publishing
Published: 2025-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

24th April 2024

“Are you ready yet, Ceren?” Zeki called from the bottom of the stairs, glancing at his watch.

His polished shoes tapped against the parquet floor as he shifted impatiently. He craned his neck, trying to gauge whether she’d appear soon.

“The taxi will be here in five minutes, and the table’s booked for eight,” he continued, raising his voice to make sure she heard.

From the upstairs bedroom, her response floated down, airy and unconcerned. “Almost done! Just changing my dress.”

Zeki released his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Five minutes earlier, she’d modelled a blue dress and asked for his opinion. When he’d told her she looked beautiful, he thought that would settle it. Clearly not. Now she was on to a different dress – probably the third or fourth change by now.

He padded his jacket pockets and murmured, “Keys, wallet, phone”, ticking them off like a ritual.

“Ready,” Ceren announced.

Zeki looked up as she came down the stairs. This time, it was a pink dress – a dazzling number that hugged her figure perfectly. If he remembered right, it was the same dress from two wardrobe changes ago.

“You look stunning,” Zeki said, a genuine smile lighting his face.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she replied with a playful glint in her eye.

The sound of a taxi honking outside cut their exchange short.

The cab pulled up outside the Olive Branch, Newcastle Road’s elegant Italian restaurant. Zeki glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard – 7.58 p.m. They were right on time.

The taxi driver hopped out, moving quickly to open the passenger door for Ceren. As she stepped out, her perfume – rich, floral, and sophisticated – hit him like a wave. It wasn’t just the scent that made an impression; her beauty was magnetic. Zeki stepped out on his side a little more unceremoniously, not noticing the cabbie casting lingering glances at his wife.

The driver handed him a small card. “Just call when you’re ready, sir. I’ll be nearby.”

Zeki took the card, placed it in his jacket pocket and followed his wife into the restaurant.

Inside, they received a warm greeting from Angelo, the maître d’. His voice was smooth and practised.

“Welcome back, Mr and Mrs Sadik. It is always a pleasure to have you with us. Your table is ready.”

He led them through the softly lit dining room to a cosy corner spot. Ceren gave an approving nod, and Zeki smiled at Angelo. “Perfect. Thank you.”

The next hour and a half flowed in a haze of indulgence – four meticulously prepared courses, two bottles of an exquisite red recommended by Angelo, and espressos to finish. The atmosphere of the Olive Branch was intimate yet lively, filled with quiet laughter and the faint clinking of glasses.

By the time dessert arrived, Ceren leaned forward, her hand resting lightly on Zeki’s. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes sparkling under the influence of the wine.

“So, Mr Sadik,” she purred, “ready to relive what we did on our honeymoon twenty years ago?”

Zeki grinned, the playful tone a welcome addition to their anniversary celebration.

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