Chapter 192 – Hope's POV
I couldn't drive.
Not immediately, anyway.
I just stood there, watching the sleek black Bugatti disappear down the street like it had never been there in the first place. If it wasn't for the faint scratch on its bumper—and the wild thudding of my heart—I'd have thought I imagined the whole thing.
Who the hell was that?
He didn't give me a name, but the way he looked at me after hearing my last name… it wasn't casual. It wasn't even neutral. There was something there. Recognition? Disgust? Amusement?
"Tell him I said hello."
His words repeated in my head like a loop, scratching at the back of my mind.
He knew Liam. That part was clear. But how?
And more importantly, how did I not know someone like him?
I finally slid into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly as I exhaled. The air conditioning blasted against my skin, cooling me, but doing nothing to calm the mess swirling inside my chest.
This wasn't just some random bump with a rich guy. No, something about him felt… off.
Not dangerous. But definitely unsettling.
I replayed everything.
The way he stepped out of the car, like he owned the entire block. The expensive cologne that still clung to the air. The effortless confidence. That knowing smirk when he asked for my name. And the way his sharp grey eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite name when I said "Blackwood."
He knew who I was. Or at least, who my brother was.
Maybe he was a business rival. Or one of Liam's many cold acquaintances. Being the CEO of Blackwood Corp. came with more enemies than friends, Liam always said that.
But then… why didn't he say his name?
I opened my phone, debating whether to text Liam about it. But what was I supposed to say?
Hey, I hit a billionaire's car, and he says hi? Know anyone with freakishly attractive grey eyes and enough charm to kill someone?
No. He'd ask too many questions.
And I didn't want this to turn into a family mess. Not yet.
Still, curiosity ate at me.
I tapped into my browser and typed:
"Black Bugatti owner, grey eyes, male, lives in Chicago."
The results were useless.
Ugh. I groaned, tossing my phone on the passenger seat.
This wasn't like me. I had a schedule to follow, a set plan for the day, and here I was—derailed by some stranger with a mysterious smile and a million-dollar car.
Pull it together, Hope.
I shook my head, forced the car into gear, and pulled back onto the road.
---
The next hour passed in a blur.
I got to my apartment, tried to focus on the lines I had to rehearse for a shoot next week, but my thoughts kept drifting. To him. The way he moved, the way he looked at me—not just at me, but into me. It was like he was trying to study my soul.
I flopped onto the couch and grabbed a blanket, trying to distract myself with a rom-com. Bad idea. The male lead had grey eyes.
Of course.
I sighed and turned it off, staring up at the ceiling like it might provide answers.
There was something about him. Something I didn't want to ignore.
Should I ask Uncle Ethan? He might know. Or even Dad?. But again, I didn't want to stir the pot over a random fender bender. Not until I had more to go on.
I sat up and reached for my phone again, typing into my notes app:
> Clues
Bugatti, black
Grey eyes
Knows Liam
No name
Expensive cologne (definitely not drugstore)
Tall, dark-haired, mid-thirties?
I re-read it and laughed bitterly.
This felt like I was profiling a suspect, not a man I accidentally bumped into.
But it wasn't funny.
Because the longer I thought about it, the more I felt this wasn't the last time I'd see him.
And that unsettled me most of all.
---
Later that night, while scrolling mindlessly through my feed, I got a text from my best friend Ariah.
Ariah: "Are you alive or buried under your own beauty products again?"
Me: "Both. But also I hit a Bugatti today."
Ariah: "YOU WHAT??"
I chuckled and gave her a brief recap. Her reactions were appropriately loud—dozens of screaming emojis, followed by:
Ariah: "You better find out who he is. For science. For the good of womankind."
Me: "He was rude."
Ariah: "Hot rude or rude rude?"
Me: "…Both."
Ariah sent a GIF of someone fainting.
Ariah: "Girl. If this were a rom-com, he's your accidental billionaire soulmate."
Me: "Then this rom-com is broken. He didn't even give me his name."
Ariah: "Plot twist: He's secretly your enemy and y'all fall in love in chapter 15."
I rolled my eyes but smiled. Leave it to Ariah to romanticize anything.
Still… enemy?
I doubted he was anyone harmless. Not with how carefully he held his expression. That wasn't a man who lived freely. That was someone used to masks.
Used to hiding who he really was.
And for some reason, that only made me want to know him more.
Who was he?
And why did my gut say… this wasn't the end?