Karma's POV
Okay... my friends helped me slip out of school. First time doing this on my own, actually. I'd be dead meat if my parents found out. But what's done is done, right?
I stepped out of the car-Gretchen's driver gave me a worried look.
I couldn't risk using my own driver. He was too loyal. Too chatty. The kind who'd spill everything if my parents pressed hard enough.
"Please be careful, miss," he said gently.
I nodded, forcing a quick smile before heading inside.
Time to up my game.
The clothing store smelled like luxury-soft leather, new fabric, and money. The receptionist spotted me instantly and rushed over.
"Anything that's one of a kind, bring them all," I said, dismissing her with the kind of confidence people expected from an Angstin. Spoiled rich brat? Sure. I could use that mask when I needed it.
I was halfway through pretending to be unfazed when the glass door chimed.
A woman swept in, her heels too loud, her lashes too long, her foundation so thick it looked like armor. She wasn't ugly, but everything about her screamed try-hard. Even her smile looked... bought. Plastic surgery wouldn't fix that.
I almost rolled my eyes-until I saw him.
The man she dragged behind her didn't belong in this place-or maybe the world. My breath caught, the sarcasm in my throat dying instantly.
Was it even fair to call a man beautiful?
Because this one wasn't just beautiful. He was... otherworldly.
He moved like he didn't need anyone's permission to exist-tall, broad-shouldered, and composed in a way that made the room feel smaller. His hair was dark, styled back perfectly, like even gravity didn't dare mess with him. A simple white shirt hugged his frame, the top button undone to reveal a chain that glinted against his skin. His eyes-steel-gray, cold, unreadable-didn't just look at things. They stripped them bare.
Every party, every ball I'd ever been dragged to because of my engagement with Kristian-I'd seen handsome men. Rich men. Powerful men.
But none like him. None who looked carved by hands that weren't human.
The girl clung to his arm, forcing his hands out of his pockets like she was claiming him. He didn't even glance at her. Didn't fight it either. Just let her hold him, like her existence didn't touch him at all.
And maybe that was what made him lethal.
That quiet, unbothered dominance.
Like he owned the room without saying a word.
His gaze slid past racks of designer clothes, past the woman clinging to him like an overpriced accessory... and landed on me.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe. Not because I'm the "oh-my-god-he's-so-hot" type-please-but because no one had ever looked at me like that. Not even my father when he's about to give me a lecture.
This wasn't curiosity. This wasn't interest.
This was evaluation.
Like I was something on display that he'd already decided he owned.
"Excuse me, miss?" the receptionist chirped, snapping me out of my mental blackout. I blinked, forcing my attention back to her.
"Hmm? Yeah. Bring the dresses. All of them." My voice was steady, but my heart had the audacity to pound like I'd just run a marathon.
I turned back toward the stranger-because why not indulge myself for another second-but he'd already looked away. Typical. Guys like him don't linger. They don't chase. They just are.
The woman on his arm kept talking-loud, fake laughter echoing through the store-but he didn't bother responding. He didn't even pretend to care. His entire body language said, I have better things to do than breathe the same air as you.
And I-being me-snorted under my breath. "Wow. Mr. Ice Prince looks fun at parties."
Still, I couldn't help stealing another glance.
Up close, I noticed more: the way his jaw was cut sharp enough to slice diamonds, the veins on his forearms when his sleeve shifted, the faint tattoo under his shirt-his neck, barely visible but impossible to miss. He wasn't polished-perfect like Kristian or the shallow boys I'd grown up around. He looked... dangerous. Real.
Which meant one thing:
trouble.
I should've looked away. Walked out. Stuck to my plan of buying clothes, sneaking home, and staying invisible.
But instead, when the receptionist handed me the first dress, I caught his reflection in the mirror. And he was already watching me again-this time, deliberately.
I pretended not to see him. Maybe he caught me staring at him. I started it so I chose to ignore him, looking at the dress in my reflection as if I was deciding if I wanted it or it was worthless.
I kept my eyes on the mirror, pretending to study the dress like it was the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen. It wasn't. Beige. Sequins. The kind of thing my mother would force on me for some charity event.
But I wasn't really looking at the dress.
I was watching him. Watching me. Watching him.
God, this was stupid.
I shifted slightly, holding the fabric to my frame. "Yeah," I muttered under my breath, "totally my color. Makes me look like... drywall."
His reflection didn't move, but I swear his mouth twitched. Almost like he'd heard me. Almost like he was amused.
Which annoyed me more than it should have.
The woman hanging on him-Fake-Lash Barbie-leaned in close, whispering something near his ear. He didn't bend to listen. Didn't nod. Just kept those gray eyes fixed on me through the mirror like she wasn't even there.
Okay. Creepy. Also... unfair.
I turned away, tossing the dress at the nearest assistant. "Next."
She scrambled to catch it. I grabbed another hanger, used it as an excuse to reposition myself farther from his line of sight, and failed. He shifted too-slow, deliberate. Like gravity worked differently for him, like he wasn't following me but the space between us just kept shrinking.
And maybe I imagined it, but the room felt warmer. Or smaller. Or maybe I was just losing my mind.
I busied myself flipping through clothes. "Sure, Karma. Great idea. Pick a fight with your mother, skip school, and now you're... what? Making eye contact with a stranger like you're in some cheap romance novel?"
I could practically feel the smirk without looking.
Fine. Two can play. I spun, grabbed the most obnoxious, neon-pink dress on the rack, and held it up in front of the mirror. "Perfect. Nothing screams elegance like blinding people on purpose."
This time, I didn't just imagine it. His lips curved-barely. Controlled. Like he didn't smile often.
And just like that, I hated him a little more for it.