Rain hammered against the city streets, a relentless downpour that blurred neon lights into shimmering streaks. Aria Lane gripped her umbrella tighter, muttering under her breath as she dodged puddles on her way to the bus stop.
It had been one of those days—her supervisor had dumped extra work on her desk, her best friend Sophie had texted last-minute to cancel their dinner plans, and to top it all off, the rain had started just as she stepped outside.
"Perfect," she muttered. "Absolutely perfect."
Her mind was so wrapped in irritation that she barely noticed the sleek black car pulling up to the curb ahead. Its tinted windows and polished finish screamed money and power, the kind Aria instinctively kept her distance from.
She adjusted her bag, quickening her steps, when suddenly the car door flew open—right into her path.
Aria yelped as the umbrella slipped from her hand, papers spilling from her bag, scattering into the waterlogged street. She stumbled, catching herself awkwardly on the car door.
"Watch where you're going," a deep, commanding voice snapped.
Aria's head shot up, ready to fire back, but the words caught in her throat.
The man who stepped out was like something from another world. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair dampened by the rain, and eyes—cold, steel-gray—that pinned her in place. His tailored suit clung to him like it had been made for no one else, radiating wealth and authority.
Aria blinked, water dripping down her cheek. "Excuse me? You nearly knocked me over."
His brows arched, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across his otherwise stoic face. "You were the one rushing, distracted. Careless."
"Careless?" she repeated, her voice rising. "You swung open a car door without looking!"
Around them, raindrops beat against the pavement, horns honked from passing cars, but the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them—strangers locked in a battle of wills.
The man's lips curved, not quite a smile. "Perhaps if you paid attention, you wouldn't find yourself sprawled across strangers' cars."
Aria's jaw dropped. "Sprawled? Are you kidding me?"
She bent quickly to gather her scattered papers, muttering curses under her breath. He crouched beside her, his movements precise, deliberate, picking up a folder before she could reach it.
Their hands brushed.
Heat sparked instantly, though the air around them was already heavy with the storm. Aria jerked her hand back, glaring up at him.
"Thank you," she said tightly, snatching the folder from his grip.
"Don't mention it," he replied smoothly, though his eyes lingered on her face with unnerving intensity.
Aria shoved the papers into her bag and stood, water soaking through her shoes. She wanted to walk away, to put as much distance as possible between herself and this arrogant stranger, but something in his gaze held her.
"What?" she snapped, adjusting her coat.
"Nothing." His lips quirked again, that almost-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just… most people usually apologize when they cause an accident."
Her mouth fell open. "I caused this?"
"Yes." He straightened, towering over her, the storm framing him like a dark portrait. "But don't worry. I won't hold it against you."
Aria's cheeks flushed hot despite the cold rain. "Unbelievable."
She spun on her heel, stomping toward the bus stop, muttering curses loud enough for him to hear.
Behind her, the stranger chuckled softly before sliding back into the car. The driver shut the door, and the vehicle pulled away, sleek and effortless, leaving Aria fuming in its wake.
By the time Aria got home, she was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face, her papers a wrinkled mess. She dumped her bag on the couch and collapsed beside it, groaning.
"Great. Just great. As if I needed one more reminder of how much my life sucks right now."
But no matter how much she tried to push it away, the image of the man lingered—his stormy eyes, his infuriating arrogance, the way his presence filled every inch of space.
She shook her head violently. "No. Absolutely not. He's just some entitled jerk with too much money and not enough manners."
And yet, somewhere deep in her chest, her heart refused to agree.
Across the city, Damian Blackwood sat in the back of his car, watching raindrops race down the tinted glass. He loosened his tie, his mind replaying the strange encounter with the fiery woman on the street.
Her glare. Her defiance. The way she hadn't flinched under his sharp words.
Most people avoided challenging him—whether from fear or respect. But this woman? She had snapped back without hesitation, her voice filled with fire.
Damian's lips curved faintly. Interesting.
"Sir?" his driver asked carefully.
"Nothing," Damian murmured, settling back into his seat.
But it wasn't nothing.
For the first time in a long while, someone had caught his attention.
And though he didn't know her name, Damian knew one thing with certainty: this wasn't the last time their paths would cross.
Not by a long shot.