#Chapter 2: Two Worlds Collide

He was tall—taller than Luca—with broad shoulders that filled out his charcoal suit perfectly. His hair was dark but white streaked through some parts of it. To be this immaculate and put together despite the late hour, I knew he had crazy work ethics.

"Thank you," I managed to say. Hyperaware of his hands still on my waist.

"Are you alright?" He studied my face.

"Fine." Every drink's effect evaporated based solely on his proximity. “I'm perfectly fine now.”

"Okay. I'll let you go now." His mouth quirked in a half-smile that did things to my pulse.

But he doesn't release me immediately. His hands lingered, warm through the thin fabric of my blouse. Like he was testing whether I could actually stand.

When he let go, the absence of his touch felt like a loss.

"Thank you," I repeated stupidly.

No man has ever had this effect on me. It took months for Luca to finally get a date with me back when we both worked in a fancy place much like this one.

We fell silent and just looked at each other. Neither of us willing to step back.

Blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on how my day had gone.

I blurted, "You have really strong arms. Like, really strong."

He laughed. "Is that how you pick up guys from bars? I have to say, I'm impressed. First, you stroke the ego."

"I'd rather stroke something else."

Why did I say that? Alcohol must have loosened my brain along with my mouth.

He looked away, then cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry. That is so improper. I promise, I don't go around propositioning men. It's just that I'm having a really bad day, and I'd like to forget it."

I was rambling, but he was listening to me.

"Boy trouble?"

"We're not together anymore."

"Ah.” A pause. “His loss."

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

He searched my face, deciding on something.

My breathing became slow and heavy as I watched his pupils dilate and he stepped closer to him.

With a start, I realized I wanted him to touch her.

I wasn't just some drunk girl about to make a mistake. I was a woman whose life had exploded comically on her face. Who had been taken advantage of for three years. Who wanted—no, needed—to feel desired by someone who saw her as more than a convenient ATM.

A second stretched,  and we collided.

Then he was touching me. Running his hands down my back to rest on the curve of my ass. I nuzzled my face into his neck, basking in sensation. In being wanted. In being more than just a solution to someone else's problems.

When he pulled away from me, I almost begged him to keep going but it turned out I didn't have to. Satisfaction filled me when a deep rumble came from his chest. "Not here," he mumbled.

With his hand firm on my waist, he led me away.

The way up to his penthouse suite was a blur. The whole elevator ride. The distant sound of a ping when he slid his keycard to open the door. The floor-to-ceiling windows I would have gawked at if I wasn't too desperate for him to keep touching me.

He looked so out of place in the ordinary world I was used to but his very visible desire made it all work.

His body crowded mine against the wall of his suite. Then he was kissing me. I moaned into his mouth.  He kissed a hot trail down my neck, to the sensitive spot below my ear. I whimpered, clutching his salt-and-pepper hair in my fist.

This won't take long. I was wet the moment I saw him, and he was obviously into me too. The rock-hard evidence was pressing into my stomach.

He licked my throat, sucked hard enough to leave a mark. My knees went weak. It had taken him nothing to find the same sweet spot it took Luca months to find.

"Bedroom?" he asked into my neck.

"Please." My words came out breathy.

I expected to walk, but he had other ideas. He swooped me up, and I shrieked delightfully as he carried me to his bedroom.

I bounced on the bed when he threw me on it. His delicious weight followed soon after.  Thoughts of everything that happened this night faded to irrelevance. There was only me and him and the way he kissed me.

I groaned when he pried my lips open with his tongue. My hips moved by themselves open to accommodate him.

He settled heavily between my thighs. His erection aligned perfectly with my drenched middle. He rolled his hips; the friction through our clothes made me cry out.

His hands went in-between my thighs. Fingers pouring raw fire on my skin, as it inched up. Heading exactly towards where I needed them the most—

My phone buzzed.

We both froze.

It buzzed again. Louder. The screen lit up on the nightstand, where I must have dropped it.

I turned my head and saw the name glowing: LUCA. Along with a photo of us from happier times.

The man above me—I realized with a start that I don't even know his name—followed my gaze.

His jaw clenched, and then he muttered, "Shit."

He pulled away, as if someone had flipped a switch inside him.

One moment he was teasing me with that confident, almost wicked tongue, and the next I was melting into him, forgetting everything except the warmth of his hands.

Now he was looking at me like I was a life-size fungus.

“You should answer that,” he said. “Looks important.”

My phone was buzzing again. Insistently.

Luca.

Irritation surged through me.

I huffed out a breath. Maybe this was the right time to end things with Luca properly. No more arguments or dragged-out apologies. Just closure.

We had come to the end of the road. It was over between us.

I don't think I would ever trust him again after the lies and the way he kept his family away from me.

Immediately I answered, Luca launched into a desperate stream of apologies. “I'm so sorry about what happened. Babe, you know I love you. I still want to make us work if you give me a cha—”

“No.” I snap. My patience was already thin. “Stop calling me.”

The man was watching me with narrowed eyes and frowned at my cold tone.

Luca tried to explain again, but I cut off that attempt and every other one he made to talk. At that moment I couldn’t see anything except my own anger.

When I hung up, my phone started buzzing again.

I let out a frustrated growl and picked up but I didn't wait for him to speak this time. “I don't ever want you to call me again. You broke my heart, and all for what? Chloe? If you try to reach me again, I swear I'll block your number and won't look back.”

I hung up again, breathing hard.

Good. That would make him leave me alone.

When I glanced at the man, he was looking at me with an odd expression on his face and a dark intensity in his eyes.

The spark between us was gone.

Not that I wanted it anymore. Irritation had quenched the desire I had– another thing Luca had deprived me off in a long list of things including my mother's heirloom— the man had obviously wanted sex. That was the only reason he brought me here, but I would have to let him down.

Just as I opened my mouth to apologize, I shut it in surprise when he spoke.

“You should go,” he said, almost too calmly.

The shift in him was jarring. Moments ago, he’d been breathing fire against my skin. Now he spoke to me like the stranger I was.

Confused and embarrassed, I stood on shaky feet. Holding the front of my torn dress together—the dress he had passionately torn—in an effort to salvage my dignity.

“Can I borrow your jacket? Just until I get home. I would return it. Promise.”

Clearly assuming I wanted a way to keep in contact with him by holding onto his possession, he let out a loose chuckle. “I don't believe an exchange of numbers is necessary between us. You can keep it."

“I'm not asking for it as an excuse to see you again.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Take it.” He forced the jacket into my hands. "Just go."

It was a heavy, and expensive black peacoat.

"Are you sure you don't want it back?" It was Burberry and it had high resell value. I hated that I thought that.

“Are you Luca’s girlfriend?”

My heart lurched. How did he know Luca?

But it wasn't surprising. He must have seen the caller ID but that didn't explain the way he said Luca, like they knew each other.

I didn’t answer; the silence did it for me.

His eyes cooled another degree.

“Then take my advice,” he said, stepping away from me. “Don’t let a good man go on a whim. You’ll regret it. And stop throwing yourself at strangers.”

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving me alone in his suddenly cold suite.

I was stunned and shaking. Luca had never mentioned knowing anyone as enigmatic as the man was. They definitely weren't friends, or Luca would have mentioned him. So why…why did he care so much about Luca?

Who was this man?

My thoughts were still tangled when my phone rang again—this time, it was Chloe.

Chloe, who’d been my only constant friend during years of juggling part-time jobs after I'd dropped out of my prestigious computer science program. She had dropped out of hers too and we bonded over how similar our backgrounds were. Chloe, who I trusted without having to think twice.

Who lied to me so casually.

“Eleanor, listen," she rushed out immediately the call connected. "Everything Luca told you is true. There's nothing going on between us. I was helping him look at engagement rings for you. That’s all.”

Chloe then reminded me— half laughing, half exasperated—about her own long-running friends-with-benefits situation. "It's all a big misunderstanding," she said.

My certainty wavered.

“Come over,” Chloe insisted. “We’ll talk properly.”

Thinking of all those days Chloe and I had leaned on each other, I couldn't bring myself to argue further. After all, she wasn't the one who started this lie. If I'd already lost my relationship today, I could at least try to salvage this friendship.

So I went.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Chloe there.

The entryway was covered in flowers. Luca knelt on one knee, a ring glimmering between his fingers.

"Would you marry me, Eleanor?"