The sheets were too warm. Too soft. Too unfamiliar.
Aria stirred, her lashes fluttering against the brightness filtering through sheer curtains. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming—the room was far too spacious, the scent too rich, the silence too heavy.
Her hand shifted against silk sheets, grazing warmth—hard muscle.
Her entire body froze.
Her head whipped to the side, and her heart plummeted to the floor. A man was lying there. Half-covered in white sheets, bare chest rising and falling steadily, his jaw sharp as if carved by shadows and light.
No… no, no, no. This isn't real.
Panic clawed at her throat. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, desperate to stifle the sound threatening to escape. She glanced down at herself—clothes gone, skin bare beneath the blanket clutched to her chest.
"Oh God," she whispered, breath shaking.
Last night was a blur. She remembered the wine, the laughter of her friend daring her to loosen up, the dizzying spin of lights, and the way she stumbled into a cab. After that… heat. Hands. A kiss that burned like fire.
And now—this.
Her gaze flicked back to him.
Even asleep, he radiated authority. His dark hair was tousled, strands falling across his forehead, but nothing could soften the dangerous sharpness of his features. A man like this didn't belong in her world. He belonged on the cover of business magazines, in glass towers she would never set foot in.
She swallowed hard. Just get up. Get out before he wakes. Pretend this never happened.
Aria shifted carefully, clutching the blanket around her as she slid one leg over the edge of the bed. The cool marble floor sent a shiver up her spine. She spotted her dress crumpled on the floor near an armchair and reached for it with shaking fingers.
"Going somewhere?"
The voice was low. Smooth. Dangerous.
Aria froze mid-reach, her breath caught in her lungs. Slowly, she turned.
His eyes were open now—dark, sharp, pinning her in place. The weight of his gaze was suffocating, burning.
No. No, no, no.
She yanked the blanket tighter around herself. "I—I didn't mean—"
He sat up, unhurried, powerful. Sheets slid down broad shoulders that looked carved from stone, revealing a torso that made her pulse skip painfully. He leaned back on one arm, casual, predatory, as if he'd seen this all before.
"You didn't mean what?" he asked, voice velvet with steel. "To drink? To climb into my bed? Or to make me lose an entire night's sleep because of you?"
Heat flared in her cheeks. "I don't even know how I—"
His smirk was slow, deliberate. "You seemed to know well enough last night."
Her knees threatened to give out. "This was a mistake."
"Was it?" He rose from the bed with the kind of grace that came from control—control of his body, of the room, of her very breathing. Standing now, he was taller than she imagined, broad-shouldered and commanding. The air itself seemed to bend around him.
She stumbled back, her shoulder bumping into the wall. "Don't come closer."
He tilted his head, studying her like prey. "Why? Afraid of remembering?"
Yes. The answer screamed inside her, but she bit her lip, refusing to say it aloud.
"Look…" She tightened her grip on the blanket. "Whatever happened last night—it meant nothing. I'll go, and you'll never see me again."
Something flashed in his eyes—amusement, dark and knowing. He stepped closer, ignoring her plea, until he stood just a breath away. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of spice and expensive cologne making her dizzy.
"Never see me again?" His voice dropped, dangerous and intimate. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
Her pulse stuttered. "W-what?"
He leaned in, lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. "Leo Blackwell."
Her blood ran cold.
She jerked back to stare at him. No… it can't be.
Leo Blackwell. The city's most ruthless CEO. A man who controlled empires with a single decision. The name that made investors tremble and politicians bow. She had read about him in magazines, seen his face on screens.
And now… she had slept with him.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
He smirked at her silence, his gaze dark with possession. "Now you know."
Aria shook her head frantically, panic clawing at her chest. "No… this… this can't…"
"Can't what?" He brushed a finger along her jaw, tilting her face up until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "Can't be undone? You're right."
She shoved his hand away, adrenaline surging. "Stay away from me."
For the first time, he chuckled—low, dangerous, a sound that vibrated down her spine. "Stay away? After what happened between us?"
"Nothing happened!" she snapped, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
His gaze flicked briefly to her trembling hands clutching the blanket, then back to her flushed face. His smile was razor-sharp. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."
Tears of frustration stung her eyes. She grabbed her dress, clutching it to her chest, and backed toward the door. "I'll forget this ever happened."
"Will you?" His voice was quiet now, almost a purr. "Because I won't."
Her hand fumbled with the doorknob, her chest heaving. She yanked it open, stepping into the hallway as if chased by flames.
Behind her, his words followed like a curse.
"You can run, Aria… but you're already mine."