Chapter 2: The Man From Last Night

(Ciara’s POV)

I kept running. My heels hit the pavement too fast and too hard, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet early morning as though something real was chasing me.

Maybe it was. Not him, but the memory of him. I did not dare to look back to see if he was following me. Not that he would, because a man like that did not chase. He waited, he watched, he punished, and somehow I felt like I had just made a very dangerous enemy. Still, I ran.

My lungs burned, my chest tightened, and my heart pounded so loudly it felt like it would burst out of my ribs. Finally, I slowed to a stop, bending slightly as I tried to catch my breath.

“Ciara, calm down,” I muttered, pressing my hand against my chest.

“It is not like you are ever going to see that man again.” Right. Exactly. Never again. It was finished. It was over. I straightened and forced a shaky breath out, trying to convince myself that everything was fine, that nothing had happened, that last night was just a mistake. It was a very embarrassing and very foolish mistake, but it was still just a mistake.

I waved at a taxi, my hand moving faster than my thoughts, and the moment it slowed, I pulled the door open and slipped inside as though I was escaping a crime scene.

“Drive,” I said quickly.

The driver turned slightly, confusion on his face as he looked at me through the mirror.

“Madam, where to?” “Brentwood,” I replied too quickly. “Just go.” He nodded and faced the road.

As the car moved, I leaned back into the seat, my body relaxing slightly. I shut my eyes, and that was a mistake, because the moment darkness settled in, everything came rushing back. The club, the loud music, the flashing lights, the alcohol, too much alcohol, and then him. His eyes were dark and intense, watching me as though I was something he wanted or something he could destroy. His voice was low, controlled, and dangerous.

My face burned instantly, and my eyes snapped open. “God…” I whispered, dragging my hands down my face.

Even though I could not remember everything, I knew one thing. It was good. It was very good, and that alone made me want to disappear. I pressed my fingers against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut again.

“Breathe, Ciara. Stop thinking about it. Focus.”

But my mind refused to listen, because instead it replayed the worst part, the exact moment everything went wrong, the moment I crossed the line from being drunk to being completely unreasonable, the moment I threw money at him. Money. Actual money. Like he was something else entirely.

“Oh my God.” The words slipped out, and I covered my face. “I am finished.”

“Madam?” the driver called. I quickly dropped my hands. “Nothing. Just drive.” By the time I got home, the sun was already rising, and I was already late. Very late.

As I stepped out of the taxi, fumbling with my bag, my phone rang. Lizzie. Of course it was Lizzie. I hesitated before answering.

“Hello, Lizzie.”

“Do not hello me,” she snapped. “I hope you have not forgotten we are resuming early today. The boss is back.” My stomach dropped.

“I have not forgotten,” I said quickly. “I am coming.”

“You had better be,” she warned, and the call ended.

Before I could take two steps, my phone rang again. Annie. I sighed before answering.

“Hi, Annie.”

“Ciara! Do not tell me you forgot today is my mum’s birthday!” I froze.

“I did not forget,” I said weakly.

“You are lying.” I sighed.

“Maybe I forgot a little.”

She groaned. “You have to come.

” I hesitated.

“Annie, my dad will be there.”

“Please,” she said softly. “Just come.” My chest tightened, but I pushed the feeling away.

“Fine. I will try.”

The call ended, and silence followed. I checked the time and nearly screamed.

“Oh my God, I am late!”

Everything after that became rushed. A quick bath, water too hot, hands moving too fast, half-done makeup, clothes thrown on, hair refusing to cooperate, coffee poured and forgotten. By the time I got to the office, my heart was racing again.

I walked toward my desk and froze. Lizzie stood there, arms crossed, watching me.

“I told you not to be late.”

“I am not late,” I said quickly. “I am strategically early.”

She tilted her head.

“For a time that has already passed?” I hesitated.

“Details.” She sighed, then stepped closer. “Why do you look different?”

“Different how?”

“Like someone who forgot her heartbreak overnight.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Do you want me to keep crying?”

She smiled. “That is my girl.” Then her eyes sharpened. “So, what happened last night?”

I leaned closer.

“I did something foolish.”

Her face lit up.

“Tell me.”

“I met someone at the club.”

“And?” “I gave him money.”

Silence followed. “…money?”

“Yes.”

Realization hit her, and her mouth dropped open.

“Ciara.”

“I thought he was a prostitute,” I whispered.

She grabbed her chest dramatically. “I am going to faint.”

“I was drunk.”

“And how was his performance?” she asked, struggling not to laugh. “I do not remember.”

She burst into laughter. “You paid a man and do not even remember?”

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed. She wiped her eyes.

“Anyway, forget that. Our boss is back.” I groaned.

“I do not care as long as I do not get fired.”

“Well, I care. He is tall, handsome, and rich.”

“Lizzie.”

“Let me dream.”

We walked into the seminar room, which was already full. I sat down, trying to calm myself, but my thoughts returned to him, his face, his eyes, and the way he looked at me after I insulted him. That look was not just anger. It was something colder, something that promised consequences.

A sudden round of applause filled the room. I turned toward the door, and then I saw him. At first, my mind refused to understand. I blinked again and again, but he was still there, walking in slowly, confidently, like he owned everything. My breath caught. No. Not him.

My fingers curled against the table as my heart pounded violently. Each step he took felt louder in my head. Closer. Closer.

Then his face became clear. Familiar. Dangerously familiar. My stomach dropped as cold fear spread through me. There was no mistake. It was him. The man from last night. The man I insulted. The man I threw money at. The man I was never supposed to see again.

He stood there like he owned the room. My breathing became uneven.

The air felt heavy. Then, as if he felt it, his steps slowed and stopped. The room grew quiet. Slowly, his head lifted. Our eyes met.

And in that moment, everything inside me shattered.