The grand chandelier sparkled above the ballroom, scattering tiny diamonds of light across the polished marble floor. Lila Hart adjusted the strap of her dress nervously as she stepped into the gala. She hated events like this—pretentious small talk, endless handshakes, and the kind of luxury that made her feel invisible—but tonight was different. Tonight, she had a mission.
Her younger sister's fashion brand was debuting its first collection, and Lila had promised to be supportive. She had even borrowed a dress that made her feel almost glamorous.
As she weaved through the crowd, she tried not to trip over her heels or knock into anyone important. Then, just as she was congratulating a designer on their display, it happened.
A collision.
"Ah, watch out!" Lila gasped, barely keeping herself upright.
The man she bumped into was nothing like anyone she had ever seen. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and exuded an aura of calm control that made her stomach twist. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his sharp eyes studied her for a moment that felt like an eternity.
"I'm sorry," she stammered, stepping back.
He tilted his head slightly, a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips. "No harm done."
But his voice—deep, commanding, and smooth—sent a strange shiver down her spine.
Lila's heart hammered. She forced a laugh, awkward and too loud. "I'm usually more graceful than this, I swear."
"I can tell," he replied, his gaze still fixed on her. Something about the way he looked at her made Lila feel exposed, as if he could see right through every mask she wore.
She finally tore her eyes away, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "I should find my sister. Nice meeting you," she said, hurrying away.
But the memory of his eyes, sharp and curious, followed her through the crowd.
Minutes later, while she was admiring the collection, she heard the familiar deep voice again. "Lila Hart?"
She froze. How did he know her name?
Turning slowly, she faced him again. His smile was polite, yet unreadable. "Do we know each other?" she asked, trying to mask the tremor in her voice.
"You could say that," he said enigmatically. "I've seen you before."
Her brow furrowed. She had a sinking feeling that this was not a casual comment. "I don't think so. Maybe once at a conference or something?"
He shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "No. Somewhere else. Somewhere you wouldn't expect."
Her heart skipped a beat. The moment stretched between them, charged with a tension she could not explain. She wanted to step back, to excuse herself, but part of her—some curious, stubborn part—wanted to know more.
Before she could say anything else, his attention shifted. A call on his phone interrupted the moment, and he excused himself with a polite nod. Lila exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the strange, fluttering feeling in her chest.
But it lingered.
The gala continued, laughter and chatter swirling around her, but she could not stop thinking about the man with the piercing eyes. Who was he? And why did it feel like fate had just shoved them together, even if for a fleeting moment?
Later, as she helped her sister with the final display, Lila glanced toward the exit—and there he was. Standing at the edge of the room, watching her, as if waiting for the perfect moment to approach again.
Her pulse quickened. Something told her that this was just the beginning.
And in the back of her mind, an uneasy thought whispered: I've seen you before… but you don't know me.