Nervousness embraced him. Any man in his position would be nervous; it was perfectly logical. Nonetheless his knees shook and his palms sweat. Even under the Italian, 3-piece wool suit, his confidence slouched, wrinkling the fabric below his shoulder blades. Despite weeks of careful preparation, nothing could determine the outcome of tonight. As he stood in a heap of darkness and charcoal air, tourists passed half-aware of the attractively tanned gentleman on the promenade. A gentleman who was scared.
His stained leather oxfords picked up the beat of what he thought was a street musician. He begun pacing, only then realizing it was his blood pumping. He removed his hands from his trouser pockets and with his left hand, twisted his cuff link in the button hole around and around. After a few minutes he shoved both hands back into his pockets, forcefully so that his belt strained. The moisture from his fingers allowed them to glide over the band of an expensive stone chosen from a special selection. The perfect diamond. His heart stopped when she caught his eye. For the perfect girl.
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