The rest of the night passed in fragments. Faces blurred, voices blended into meaningless noise, and every polite smile I gave felt like a mask stretched too tight. My mind wasn't in that ballroom anymore. It was on the terrace, in the silence Nicholas Hale had left behind, in the way his words clung to me like invisible threads.
We both know you've already decided how this ends.
But how could he know anything about me? We'd only exchanged a handful of words, yet it felt as though he had stripped me bare without even touching me.
I excused myself early, ignoring the puzzled glances of colleagues. The cool night air outside the hotel brushed against my skin as I stepped to the curb, heels clicking against stone. A car pulled up for me, but before I reached it, movement caught the corner of my eye.
Nicholas.
Leaning against a sleek black car across the street, shadow draped around him like a cloak. He wasn't watching me directly, but his posture relaxed, deliberately telling me it wasn't a coincidence. I froze. The smart choice would have been to get into my car, drive away, and never look back. Instead, I found myself crossing the street, each step betraying the resolve I swore I had.
"You have a habit of disappearing," I said, my voice carrying more steadiness than I felt."And you," he said smoothly, straightening from the car, "have a habit of following."
The streetlight painted silver along his jaw, highlighting the faint scar near his temple. I hadn't noticed it before a detail out of place on someone who seemed otherwise untouchable. "What do you want from me, Nicholas?" I asked, folding my arms, as though distance could be built with body language alone.
His gaze lingered on me, sharp and unrelenting. "That depends. Do you want the truth, or something easier to swallow?"
My heart stuttered. Try me.
A flicker passed through his expression, something like approval. He stepped closer, the air thickening between us. "I want what everyone in that ballroom pretends they don't crave. Control. Power. And the rare chance to find someone who sees past the façade.
I swallowed hard. "And you think that's me?
"I think," Nicholas said, his voice lowering to something intimate, "that you've spent too long pretending not to want more. And that terrifies you."
The heat of his words pressed against me, more dangerous than any touch. I wanted to deny him, to tell him he was wrong. But my silence betrayed me.
Before I could respond, a sudden noise split the air, the sharp crack of glass breaking somewhere down the street. My head whipped toward the sound. A shadow moved quickly, too quickly, slipping into an alley.
When I turned back, Nicholas was already watching, his body tense, eyes scanning the dark. "Do you know them?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Instead, he moved, fast, reaching for the car door. "You should go home, Elena.He knew my name.
The realization hit like a blow. My chest tightened, breath caught. "I never told you my name.
Nicholas paused, his hand resting on the car. For the first time, his composure faltered, if only for a heartbeat. Then he slipped into the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life.
The car peeled away, leaving me standing on the curb, heart racing, cold air biting my skin.
I whispered his name into the night, more to myself than anyone else.
"Nicholas Hale…"
And beneath the thrum of my pulse, one truth settled heavy inside me — whatever world he belonged to, I had just stepped into it.