Chapter 1
The music in the lavish ballroom softened, the laughter and clinking glasses faded into a distant hum, and all that remained was the steady pull of his gaze locking onto hers.
He stood across the room, half-shadowed by the golden glow of the chandeliers. His suit was impeccably tailored, his stance effortless yet commanding. But it was his eyes that held her—dark, knowing, as if he had been waiting for this moment far longer than she could understand.
Angelina wasn’t the kind of woman who believed in destiny. She was a realist, a woman of logic, of carefully made choices. But something about the stranger across the room made her stomach tighten with a nervous thrill.
She turned away, pressing her fingertips against the chilled surface of her champagne flute, trying to shake the absurd weight of the moment. Her heart shouldn’t be racing. She shouldn’t feel this… awareness.
“Would it be terribly forward of me to say you look breathtaking tonight?”
The voice was rich, smooth—like velvet laced with danger. Angelina knew before she turned that it belonged to him. And yet, she still found herself breathless when she met his gaze up close.
“I suppose that depends,” she murmured, lifting her glass to her lips. “Are you the type of man who enjoys being forward?”
His lips curved into something between a smirk and a secret. “Only when the moment calls for it.”
She should have laughed. She should have excused herself, thanked him politely and melted back into the crowd. But the way he looked at her—like he had known her in another lifetime—left her standing there, caught in the quiet spell between them.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, tilting her head slightly.
He stepped closer, just enough for her to catch the faintest trace of something dark and expensive on his skin. “Not formally.”
“Then you know my name?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Angelina.”
Her pulse stuttered. She hadn’t introduced herself. She hadn’t told him anything at all.
Before she could ask, a voice interrupted. “Miss Laurent, your car is ready.”
She turned to see her driver waiting patiently near the grand entrance. When she looked back at the stranger, he was still watching her, an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“Enjoy your evening, Angelina,” he murmured, taking her hand and brushing the lightest kiss against her knuckles. His lips were warm against her skin, and the touch sent a quiet shiver down her spine.
And then, just like that, he was gone.
Angelina stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he had been, her breath unsteady.
Something told her that tonight was only the beginning.
And that terrified her more than she could explain.
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