"Hi, I'm Oliver. And you are?" he asked after a long, thoughtful gaze that lingered on her.
"Hey… I'm Anna." She extended her hand, her movements betraying the stunned way his face had affected her. Even a blind person could've sensed the heat in her chest. The glances she'd stolen while he was staring had sent a strange shiver through her spine—awkward, yet thrilling.
Oliver smiled, a soft one. Anna blushed, looking like a shy girl unexpectedly meeting her longtime crush. Something about that made his chest warm.
"Nice to meet you, Anna. You have a beautiful name," he said. "It suits your face… gorgeous and kind."
A wide smile bloomed on her lips, and she couldn't meet his eyes. Her head lowered just slightly, bashfully.
"I'm sure all the women in this city are lining up for you," she blurted out. Immediately, she regretted it. Why didn't I just thank him? Embarrassment crept up her throat. "Uhm… I should go. I'm on my lunch break."
The look on Oliver's face dimmed.
"Can I add you on WhatsApp? So we can stay in touch?" he asked, hopeful.
To his delight, she handed him her phone without hesitation. He scanned her code and smiled. "Thank you. I hope we meet again soon."
As he walked away, he moved slowly—light on his feet like a man walking through a dream, grinning to himself the entire way.
Anna stared down at her empty hands, stunned. I can't believe I gave him my phone like that… without even thinking. Excitement stirred in her chest, magical and new. So this is what it feels like when you meet someone who just… draws you in.
"Mam, are you paying, or are you going to keep smiling like that alone?" the cashier's voice jolted her back to reality.
"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, fumbling for her purse and handing him the money.
---
Back at the office, a buzz from her phone stopped her in her tracks. She'd been balancing her takeaway and snacks, but now all her attention was on the message glowing on the screen:
Oliver: Can I see you tonight?
Her cheeks flushed again. She spun in her desk chair, legs fluttering in the air like an excited teenager. She typed back:
Anna: Yes.
Moments later, he sent his location. It was a place she didn't recognize.
After work, she returned to her apartment to get ready. Anna Moore, a 30-year-old English Literature lecturer at Wits University, lived a simple life. Her younger brother was also a student there—majoring in History, a subject that fascinated him deeply. He preferred staying at the campus residence, citing privacy reasons, which Anna respected. Their parents owned a livestock farm and were the kindest people she knew.
Not wanting to waste time, she showered quickly and shaved everything but her head. She admired her naturally neat hairline at the nape of her neck, her dark edges framing her pale skin. Her faint mustache-like baby hairs near her ears gave her face a soft charm.
She tied her black hair into a messy bun, letting two strands fall across her forehead, and added light, natural makeup. A swipe of nude gloss plumped her lips. She slipped into a pair of light-washed, high-waisted skinny jeans, a fitted black turtleneck, and maroon pumps. Finally, she sprayed herself with a fruity, sweet fragrance that lingered delicately on her skin.
---
When she arrived at the address Oliver had sent, she was surprised to find a restaurant she had never seen before. Not that it was shocking—she was introverted and rarely ventured out beyond work.
She parked, and as she stepped out of her car, there he was—waiting for her by the driver's door. He looked… breathtaking. She gasped slightly. His white long-sleeve shirt clung to his sculpted torso, revealing his biceps and broad chest. Her eyes widened. This man is dangerous, she thought, in the best way.
Oliver took a deep breath and stepped closer, almost as if compelled by her presence. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and instead spoke, his voice low and reverent.
"You look… stunning. You're immensely graceful. I can't take my eyes off you. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."
"I… actually enjoy your gaze," Anna admitted. "And you look really handsome." Her voice was soft. His deep voice had turned raspy when he leaned in—sending another shiver through her. "Your cologne smells amazing."
That surprised him. He wasn't wearing any cologne.
They walked into the restaurant together, looking like a couple straight from a movie. Inside, the space was enormous—almost like a ballroom. Oliver wore a relaxed pair of black jeans and clean white sneakers, his entire look effortlessly stylish. Heads turned as they entered, especially the men's eyes lingering on Anna, which made Oliver's jaw tighten.
He pulled out a seat for her like a gentleman and sat across from her.
"You choose," he said.
Anna stared at the menu, confused. Everything was in French.
"Actually, you pick. I don't know any of these," she said honestly. To her relief, Oliver nodded without judgment and ordered for both of them.
The food was the best she'd ever tasted—though nothing could compete with her mother's cooking. After dinner, they drove together to his place—using her car. He confessed he'd taken an Uber earlier.
---
When they arrived, Anna's jaw dropped.
"Wow… this is your place?" she asked, her suspicion flickering. Is he a drug dealer? It looked like a home for the rich and powerful.
"I'm just renting," he laughed. "I don't own it."
Relief flooded her. She stepped inside and slipped off her heels. Oliver's eyes dropped to her feet, his mouth parting slightly. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, Anna… but I can't keep my hands off you."
"No one's stopping you," she whispered.
The tension between them erupted. Oliver kissed her deeply, his palms hot against her lower back as he lifted her with ease. His breath was warm against her skin, sending sparks down her spine. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down gently on silky-soft sheets that spoke of luxury.
He undressed her slowly, reverently. When she saw his body, her breath caught. His abs were flawless, his entire form chiseled to perfection. He let his wavy black hair fall over his shoulders, framing a sharp jawline that looked sculpted from stone.
Then she said something that made his entire body freeze.
"I'm still a virgin."
Oliver's heart pounded. His hellhound stirred beneath the surface—territorial, possessive, reverent. He had been watching her quietly for two months, drawn to her light, her grace. He hadn't known she was untouched.
With deep emotion in his eyes, he kissed her again, his hand grasping hers, his lips trailing a soft line from her mouth to her chest.