The gala ended long after midnight, leaving the hotel ballroom strewn with the aftermath of extravagance. Crystal glasses half-filled with champagne lingered on linen-draped tables, glittering beneath the fading chandeliers. The string quartet had packed up hours ago, yet the echoes of their music seemed to haunt the air like ghosts of a waltz. Laughter from the wealthy and powerful had dwindled into quiet murmurs, as though the city itself was finally giving in to sleep.
Adrian Cole stepped outside into the cool night air with Melissa at his side. The contrast hit him—the muffled warmth of music and perfume inside versus the crisp silence of the moonlit street. The valet rolled her sleek black car forward, its polished body reflecting the golden glow of the streetlamps.
Melissa walked slowly, deliberately, as though the night belonged to her. The gown she wore shimmered with each step, catching faint light like fire trapped in silk. Adrian tried to ignore the subtle sway of her walk, tried not to notice how her hand brushed against his—once, twice, three times. Each fleeting contact wasn't his doing, but hers, and it was enough to unravel threads he had carefully woven around himself for years.
Sparks. That was what it felt like. Sparks crawling over his skin, igniting nerves he had long ago disciplined into silence. He told himself he should pull back, widen the distance, but instead he matched her pace, almost unconsciously leaning closer.
"Thank you for the dance," Melissa said at last, turning to him with a smile that was nothing short of dangerous. Her lips curved, soft and deliberate, a smile that could have set entire cities on fire.
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I warned you," he said quietly, his voice roughened by restraint. "I don't dance."
Melissa tilted her head, her dark eyes glimmering like secrets in the night. "Mm. You may not dance, Adrian Cole, but you lead. That's what matters."
The words slid under his skin with startling precision. Lead. Not follow. Not surrender. She had seen something in him that most people overlooked, or perhaps feared. And damn it, she was right. Even on the dance floor, where he had been utterly out of his element, his instincts had refused to let him yield.
She leaned closer, her perfume faint and intoxicating, a mix of jasmine and smoke. For one dangerous heartbeat, he thought he might kiss her. The thought jolted him—his lips against hers, fire meeting fire. His hand twitched as though reaching of its own accord.
But the memory of his mother's warnings rose like a tide. Never trust the smile of a woman who knows her own power, Adrian. It's not affection—it's a weapon.
So he stopped himself.
Melissa seemed to sense the battle raging within him. Her smile deepened, sly and confident, as if she had expected his resistance and found it amusing rather than frustrating. Without another word, she slipped gracefully into the car, her gown folding like shadows around her. The door shut with a quiet, final click that echoed far louder than it should have.
Adrian stood rooted on the pavement, his breath steady but his chest taut with a storm he could not name. He watched as the car rolled away, disappearing into the darkened avenue, taillights glowing like embers until they vanished altogether. Only then did he realize how long he had been standing there, caught between restraint and desire.
Behind him, footsteps approached with a lazy rhythm. Marcus strolled out of the hotel entrance, hands in his pockets, a toothpick dangling from his lips. His grin was as wide and unbothered as ever.
"Well," Marcus drawled, surveying the scene with theatrical flair, "if this were a movie, I'd say cue dramatic music. Our brooding hero meets the dangerous goddess. Roll credits."
Adrian didn't turn. He simply exhaled, slow and controlled. "You're an idiot."
"Yes," Marcus agreed cheerfully, stepping beside him. "But I'm an idiot who noticed you almost kissed her. Adrian Cole, almost kissing a woman. That's like—what's the word? Oh, right—a solar eclipse. Happens once a generation, and the world stops to watch."
Adrian finally glanced at him, his expression sharp enough to cut. Marcus grinned back, utterly unfazed.
They walked toward the waiting car, the city's silence wrapping around them. Adrian hid his amusement under a mask of indifference, but deep down, unease simmered. Because Marcus was right. He had almost kissed her. And that simple fact unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Melissa wasn't just beautiful. She wasn't just bold. She was dangerous.
And Adrian Cole, for all his iron will and walls built from years of discipline, found himself walking straight into her fire.