The first time I saw him, it felt like a mistake.
Not the kind of mistake you regret immediately—but the kind you know will cost you later.
The rain had just begun to fall over the city, soft at first, then heavy enough to blur the lights of passing cars. I stood beneath the entrance of the Grand Meridian Hotel, clutching my purse tighter than necessary, silently cursing the meeting that had dragged late into the evening. My heels were killing me. My patience was thinner than the silk blouse clinging to my skin.
And then he stepped out of a black car like he owned the night.
Tall. Composed. Effortless.
He didn't rush through the rain. He walked through it as if even the storm respected him. His suit fit like it had been tailored by the gods themselves, dark and sharp against the city glow. But it wasn't the suit that caught me.
It was his eyes.
They found mine instantly. Intentionally.
As if he had been looking for me.
I looked away first.
Because that's what you do when a stranger's gaze feels like a touch.
Inside, the hotel lobby was warm and golden, filled with the quiet hum of late-night conversations and soft piano music drifting from the lounge. I tried to forget the way his presence lingered in my thoughts as I approached the reception desk.
"Good evening, Miss Carter," the receptionist greeted politely. "Your room is ready."
I nodded, grateful for the distraction.
But before I could take a step toward the elevator, I felt it again.
That awareness.
Like heat creeping up my spine.
"You dropped this."
His voice was low. Smooth. Controlled.
I turned slowly, my breath catching for half a second. He stood closer now, holding out my silver bracelet—the one I hadn't realized slipped from my wrist.
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "Thank you."
Our fingers brushed when I reached for it.
It was accidental.
It shouldn't have felt like anything.
But it did.
A spark. Quick. Dangerous.
"You should be more careful," he said quietly, his eyes not leaving mine.
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself.
A slow smile touched his lips. Not warm. Not friendly.
Tempting.
"Because not everyone would return what you lose."
There was something in his tone that made my pulse shift. Something layered beneath the words. A meaning that had nothing to do with jewelry.
"I'm sure I can take care of myself," I replied, lifting my chin slightly.
His gaze flickered with approval.
"I don't doubt that."
The elevator doors opened behind me with a soft chime, breaking whatever invisible thread had pulled tight between us.
I stepped inside.
And just as the doors began to close—
He walked in too.
Of course he did.
The space suddenly felt smaller. Warmer. Charged.
He pressed the button for the top floor.
I pressed mine for the eighth.
Silence settled between us, but it wasn't empty. It was thick with unspoken awareness. I could feel his presence at my side, steady and confident, as if he was used to affecting people this way.
I refused to look at him.
Refused to acknowledge the way my heart was beating just a little too fast.
"You always avoid eye contact with strangers?" he asked.
I let out a small breath. "Only the ones who stare."
He chuckled softly.
"I wasn't staring."
"No?"
"I was appreciating."
My stomach tightened.
"That sounds like the same thing."
"It's not," he said calmly. "Staring is careless. Appreciating is intentional."
The elevator stopped at the eighth floor.
The doors slid open.
But I didn't move.
Because suddenly I was aware of something else.
The faint scent of his cologne. Warm. Subtle. Addictive.
"You're not getting off?" he asked quietly.
I forced my legs to respond.
"Yes. I am."
I stepped out into the hallway, my heels clicking against the marble floor, pretending I couldn't feel his gaze following me.
Just before the doors closed, he spoke again.
"Goodnight… Miss Carter."
I froze.
Slowly, I turned.
"How do you know my name?"
His expression didn't change.
A small, knowing curve of his lips.
"You shouldn't lose things so easily," he said.
And then the doors shut.
Leaving me standing there with a racing heart, a silver bracelet around my wrist—
—and the unsettling realization that meeting him was no accident.
I didn't know his name.
I didn't know why he unsettled me.
But I knew one thing.
Whatever this was—
It wasn't safe.
And the most dangerous part?
I wasn't sure I wanted it to be.