Bianca woke to the unfamiliar, hazy light of dawn, tangled in cool, silk sheets. For a second, she didn't know where she was. Then it all rushed back: the bar, the electric conversation, the man with the ice-blue eyes. Eddie.
A warm, heavy arm was draped over her waist. Last night had been... wild. It was a blur of sensations, a deep need to rebel against the careful, boring life she had been living. The moment the penthouse door clicked shut, he kissed her, and it wasn't gentle. It was a hungry, desperate collision, and for the first time in years, Bianca had let go.
In the quiet morning light, she felt a small pinch. Not regret. Never regret. It was too freeing for that. But reality was knocking. This wasn't her life. This was a one-night fantasy.
Carefully, Bianca slipped out from under his arm. Eddie stirred, his breathing deep and even, but he didn't wake. She paused to look at him; his face was softer in sleep, more vulnerable, the raw power beneath his calm. He was even more handsome in the light, with his strong jaw and dark hair.
She found her clothes scattered on the floor. Her dress was hopelessly wrinkled. Oh well, she thought. She felt lighter, like she'd shed a heavy skin. This was exactly what she needed before starting her new, serious life.
A glance at her watch made her blood run cold. 8:05 AM.
Her first day at Sterling & Cross began in less than an hour. An email for a meeting followed shortly.
Panic, sharp and sudden, cut through her warm haze. She grabbed a piece of notepad from the desk. What could she even write?
Thanks for an unforgettable night. No regrets. No looking back. -Bianca
It was a bit cliché, but it was the truth. This was a clean break. She left the note on the pillow next to his head, took one last look, and quietly let herself out of the suite.
The elevator ride down felt like a descent back to earth. She was a different person than the one who had walked into that bar last night.
The taxi ride was a blur of honking horns and self-repair. Bianca sat in the back, frantically trying to fix her face with the makeup in her purse. She twisted her messy hair into a tight, professional bun. The wrinkled dress was a disaster, but she had no choice. She would just have to walk in with so much confidence that no one would dare to question it.
She burst through the gleaming glass doors of Sterling & Cross at 8:57 AM. Three minutes to spare. Her new heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as she rushed to the elevator.
"Ms. Carter, just in time," a junior associate said, holding the elevator door for her. "Ms. Parker is already in the main conference room. The Blackwell Group just arrived."
Bianca's heart pounded with nerves. The Blackwell Group. This was it. Her first big case. Her chance to prove the new job wasn't a mistake. She took a deep breath, pushing every thought of last night out of her head. It was time to be the professional she was.
She pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the conference room and stepped inside.
The conference room buzzed with power and expectation. Partners from her firm sat on one side of the long table. On the other side sat an imposing group of men in dark suits. Her new boss, Ms. Parker, pointed to an empty chair beside her.
Bianca smiled politely and moved toward the seat, her eyes scanning the faces of the new clients.
Then she froze.
Her blood turned to ice. Her stomach dropped to the floor.
Sitting at the head of the table, framed by a huge window overlooking the city, was him.
Eddie.
The man from the bar. The man from the penthouse.
He looked different. Colder. Sharper. His charcoal suit was still perfect, his hair was perfectly styled, and his ice-blue eyes were locked directly on her.
Her brain couldn't catch up. Eddie. Her one-night stand.
He wasn't just Eddie. He was Eddie Blackwell. The famous billionaire heir. Her new client.
As if in a nightmare, her eyes darted to the tablet in front of the partner next to her. The screen was lit up with a news article: "Blackwell Heir & Actress Tasha Pearson Spotted at Gala. Engagement On?" The photo showed Eddie looking cool and powerful, with a beautiful, famous woman holding his arm.
Engaged. He was engaged?.
The room, which had been buzzing with quiet conversation, suddenly felt dead silent. The realization hit them both at the same second. She saw the flash of shock in his eyes, a tiny crack in his perfect, controlled mask.
He recovered first. In a split second, the shock was gone, replaced by a cold, unreadable calm. He stood up, a smooth, powerful motion.
He extended his hand across the table, his gaze steady, his voice formal.
"Ms. Carter," he said, his British accent crisp and cool. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Bianca felt like she was underwater. She was mortified, furious, and trapped. But she was a professional. She put her hand in his. His grip was firm, brief, and felt nothing like the hands that had held her hours ago.
"Mr. Blackwell," she managed to say, her voice surprisingly steady. "The pleasure is all mine."
The meeting started. People talked about contracts, about numbers, about strategy. Bianca's mind was racing, but she forced herself to focus, even chiming in with a few sharp legal points.
She could feel his eyes on her. Every time she looked up, he was watching her with that same cool, unreadable stare. The tension was so thick she could barely breathe.
The line between her reckless night of freedom and her new professional life had just been erased. This wasn't a clean break.
It was a total disaster.