...Dickinson pov…

I was sitting alone at a table in the restaurant, sipping on a glass of red wine and waiting for my dinner companion to arrive. I looked up as the door opened, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Emile walk in. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, but his tie was badly knotted and askew.

As he made his way towards my table, I could see the glances he was getting from other diners. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult to ignore the way his tie seemed to be choking him.

"Emile, hi," I said as he approached...