When Stranger Meets

Piper

The breakfast room buzzes with quiet conversations, silverware clinking against porcelain plates. I hesitate at the entrance, clutching my bag against my side like it’s a shield. Couples fill every table, laughing, whispering, and sharing intimate smiles. It’s a stark reminder of why I shouldn’t have come for this couple-centric getaway alone. I feel like an out-of-place puzzle piece, awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Steeling myself, I head to the buffet and fill my plate. Eggs, toast, fruit—safe options. My appetite isn’t really there, but the food is included, so I might as well eat. Plate in hand, I scan the room for an empty table. That’s when I spot Amber.

She sits with her picture-perfect blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips quirking into that smirk that makes me think of Paige—my sister, my tormentor, my constant reminder of what I’ll never be. Amber’s eyes meet mine, and her smirk deepens, a mocking laugh in disguise. Who are you going to eat with, lonely girl?

My chest tightens. I grip my plate a little harder, wishing I could disappear. Just as I’m about to turn around and leave, a familiar voice calls out.

“Piper!” Zoe’s cheerful tone slices through the tension. I whip my head around and find her waving enthusiastically, a beacon of relief. She’s sitting at a table near the window, but the man beside her—her partner, I assume—looks less than thrilled. His jaw tightens, his lips pressed into a hard line.

I force a smile, nodding back at Zoe as I make my way over. Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived.

“What the hell, Zoe?” Her partner hisses the moment I’m within earshot. “Why’d you call her over? This is supposed to be our trip.”

“She’s sitting alone,” Zoe retorts, her voice strained with embarrassment. “What was I supposed to do, ignore her?”

“Yes!” he snaps under his breath. “You’re making this awkward. You’re embarrassing us.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. My hands grip my plate tighter, and I feel like I’m intruding on something I have no business being part of.

“Um, I can just find another table,” I mumble, taking a step back. “Really, it’s fine.”

Zoe turns to me, her eyes filled with guilt. “No, Piper, don’t—he’s just being—”

“It’s okay,” I cut her off, forcing a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Before she can protest, I slip away, the burn of their argument—and everyone’s eyes—following me. I find a table tucked away in the corner, far from the curious stares, and sink into the chair. My stomach churns; the food on my plate suddenly unappetizing. I pick at it aimlessly, keeping my head down.

Laughter rings out across the room—sharp, biting. I glance up and, of course, it’s Amber. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s laughing at me, whispering something to the person beside her. My chest tightens again, and for a moment, I’m back in secondary school, sitting alone at lunch while the other girls laugh at my expense.

I shove a piece of toast into my mouth, chewing mechanically.

Then, I feel it—a presence. The scrape of a chair against the floor beside me. My eyes snap up, and I freeze.

It’s him.

The man with piercing blue eyes.

He’s sitting across from me, his gaze locked on mine, and I forget how to breathe. My fork slips from my fingers, clattering toward the ground, but before it can hit, his hand darts out and catches it with inhuman precision.

I stare at him, wide-eyed. “How did you—?”

“Careful,” he says, his voice low and smooth. He places the fork back on the table, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “You don’t want to lose your weapon.”

I blink, heat rushing to my face. “Um, thanks,” I mumble, dropping my gaze.

When I look up again, he’s still staring, his gaze intense and unrelenting. It’s like he’s seeing something in me that I don’t even see in myself.

The air feels heavy, charged. I realise I’ve been holding my breath. My throat tightens, and I start coughing.

“Here,” he says, sliding a glass of water toward me.

I reach for it, and our fingers brush. A spark shoots up my arm, a jolt so startling I gasp, pulling my hand back as if I’ve been burned.

He doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, his smile widens, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Drink,” he says softly, his voice dipping into something almost tender. “I just found you, mate. I’m not ready to lose you to a coughing fit.”

My heart stumbles. Did I hear that right?

“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t answer as he tilts the glass toward me, his hand steady and firm as he brings it to my lips. The touch is gentle but commanding, and I’m too stunned to resist.

The water is cool against my lips, but my mind is spinning. Who is this man? And why does it feel like everyone in the room has disappeared, leaving just the two of us?

When he finally releases the glass, his gaze never wavers. “Better?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.

I nod, too overwhelmed to speak, but grateful I wouldn’t have to eat alone.

I manage to start eating again, even though my stomach grumbles loud enough to draw a few glances my way. Heat floods my cheeks, and I lower my head, pretending to focus on my plate. Great, Piper. Add more to your list of embarrassments today.

I chew slowly, trying to keep my composure, but the weight of his gaze presses down on me. Every second, it grows heavier, more deliberate, like he’s studying me, peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had. My hands feel clammy, but I force myself to finish my food without looking up at him.

When I set my fork down, he slides a glass of water toward me. I glance at it, then back at him. His expression is unreadable, though there’s a flicker of amusement in those striking blue eyes.

“Thanks,” I mumble, unsure of what else to say. My mind scrambles for a conversation starter. His name, maybe? But he’s a stranger, and while he’s devilishly handsome, I can’t ignore the little voice in my head urging caution. Yet, deep down, I don’t feel fear—just intrigue.

I sneak a glance at him, trying to piece him together. His clothes are sharp, tailored, and look expensive—not the kind you pick up at a department store. His shoes are polished to a mirror shine, and his body... Well, let’s just say the shirt clings to him like a second skin, highlighting muscles I didn’t know could exist outside a magazine.

Compared to Adam, my ex, this man is... otherworldly. Adam was all excuses and mediocre charm. This guy? He’s raw power and control wrapped in mesmerising beauty. My gaze lingers too long, and I quickly drop my eyes to my glass, only to realise I’m blushing. Stop it, Piper, I scold myself. He’s just a man. A ridiculously perfect man... but still just a man.

As the thought crosses my mind, another, more ludicrous one sneaks in: What if God sent him to help me? Fake husband, real angel? My cheeks burn hotter at the ridiculous notion, and I take a quick sip of water to compose myself. But then, the thought of what our kids might look like—blessed with his stunning features—flashes unbidden, and I choke on my drink.

He smirks, handing me another napkin. “Are you always this clumsy, or is it just my presence?”

I shake my head quickly, muttering, “Just clumsy.”

His smirk deepens, like he can read my thoughts. The idea sends a shiver down my spine. I sit straighter, clearing my throat as I desperately try to regain some semblance of dignity. How would I even convince him to pretend to be my husband? He looks like he belongs in a penthouse, not faking a marriage with someone like me.

I glance at him again, this time more critically. He’s too perfect—too good to be true. My parents wouldn’t buy it. Heck, I don’t even buy it. Someone as polished as him would laugh at the idea of pretending to be with me, let alone agreeing to it. Maybe I need to find someone less intimidating, less... him.

Before I can spiral further, a guttural growl echoes through the room, loud and primal. My head snaps up, and the room falls silent. Everyone exchanges confused and startled glances, their eyes darting toward the windows.

“What was that?” someone whispers.

“I heard there are wild animals on the island,” another guest says nervously. “The staff warned us about them.”

Just as the murmurs start to rise, a male staff member walks into the room. He claps his hands to get our attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be departing in thirty minutes for the morning exploration. Please ensure you’re—”

He freezes mid-sentence, his eyes locked on the man sitting across from me. His face pales, and he immediately lowers his gaze, bowing his head deeply.

“I... I didn’t realise you were here, Alp—”

“Enough,” the man says, his voice calm but commanding. He raises a hand, silencing the staff member.

The tension in the room is palpable. Everyone stares, including me, as the blue-eyed man stands and strides toward the staff member. He leans in, whispering something too quiet for anyone else to hear. Whatever it is, it makes the staff member visibly tremble.

With that, the man turns back toward the room. His piercing gaze finds mine, and he winks.

A wink.

I sit there, stunned, as he walks out of the room without another word. The moment he’s gone, the air feels lighter, but I’m left reeling.

What the hell just happened?