The Night She Walked Away

Chapter 2 (Flashback)

Rafael Aragon didn’t attend parties for pleasure.

He attended for power.

The penthouse overlooking the city was full of politicians, CEOs, investors — all pretending they weren’t measuring each other’s worth with every handshake.

He was halfway through a conversation about foreign investments when he felt it.

A shift.

His eyes moved instinctively across the room.

And then he saw her.

She wasn’t dressed to impress anyone.

No flashy diamonds. No desperate laughter. No calculated smiles.

She stood near the bar in a deep red dress, simple but devastating. One hand wrapped around a champagne flute, the other resting lightly on the counter.

She looked slightly out of place.

Not insecure.

Just… uninterested.

That caught his attention.

“Who is she?” he asked quietly.

His associate followed his gaze. “Dr. Dianne Cruz. Trauma surgeon. The hospital director’s niece.”

A surgeon.

Interesting.

Rafael watched as a man tried to flirt with her. She gave him a polite smile — distant, professional — and turned away.

She wasn’t impressed.

That made him want her attention more.

⸻

Dianne had only come because her aunt insisted.

“One hour,” she promised herself.

One hour, then she’d leave.

She didn’t belong in rooms like this.

Too many powerful men with dangerous smiles.

She felt his stare before she saw him.

When she did — her breath paused for half a second.

Tall. Controlled. Dark suit perfectly tailored. Not loud like the others.

He wasn’t smiling.

He was observing.

Her.

She should’ve looked away.

Instead, she held his gaze.

A challenge.

Something in his eyes shifted.

He excused himself from his group.

And walked toward her.

Slowly.

Confidently.

Like a man who never rushed for anything.

“You look like you regret coming here,” he said once he reached her.

His voice was smooth. Deep. Calm.

She raised an eyebrow. “You look like you own the place.”

A faint smirk touched his lips. “I own part of it.”

That should’ve annoyed her.

Instead, it made her laugh softly.

“Of course you do.”

He extended his hand. “Rafael.”

She hesitated.

Then placed her hand in his.

“Dianne.”

The moment their skin touched, something clicked.

Subtle.

Electric.

He felt it.

So did she.

Two drinks later, conversation flowed easier.

Three drinks, and the space between them disappeared.

They stood near the balcony now, city lights glittering beneath them.

“You don’t seem impressed by money,” he noted.

“I see blood and broken bones every day,” she replied lightly. “It changes your priorities.”

He studied her differently after that.

Not just attracted.

Interested.

“You’re different,” he said quietly.

She tilted her head. “You say that to everyone?”

“No.”

The honesty in his tone made her pulse quicken.

The alcohol warmed her skin.

Lowered her guard.

He stepped closer — not touching — but close enough that she could feel his presence.

“You should leave with me,” he said softly.

Direct.

No games.

Her breath caught.

“That’s bold.”

“I don’t waste time.”

She should have said no.

She barely knew him.

But the way he looked at her —

Like she was the only person in a room full of power —

made her reckless.

“Okay,” she heard herself say.

The hotel room was quiet.

No music.

No distractions.

Just the sound of their breathing.

For a moment, they simply stood there.

Sober enough to understand what they were about to do.

“You can still change your mind,” he said, voice lower now.

She stepped closer instead.

And kissed him.

That kiss wasn’t sweet.

It was heat built from glances and tension and unspoken curiosity.

His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer — firm but careful. She slid her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

Clothes disappeared slowly.

Not rushed.

Not sloppy.

Intentional.

Every touch deliberate.

He traced her skin like he was memorizing it. She responded without hesitation, matching his intensity.

The night blurred into breathless kisses and tangled sheets and whispered gasps.

No promises.

No future.

Just hunger.

And something deeper neither of them wanted to name.

Afterward, she lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

For the first time in months, she felt… unguarded.

That scared her.

So before sunrise, she slipped out of bed.

She dressed quietly.

Paused once to look at him sleeping — peaceful for once.

Then she left.

No note.

No goodbye.

⸻

Rafael woke to an empty bed.

At first, he thought she was in the bathroom.

Then he saw the untouched side of the sheets.

The door closed.

Silence.

Something unfamiliar tightened in his chest.

He didn’t chase women.

They stayed.

But she had walked away.

Without asking for anything.

Without leaving a number.

Without trying to attach herself to him.

That… unsettled him.

He sat up slowly.

Ran a hand through his hair.

Then he laughed once under his breath.

Interesting.

By noon, he had her full name.

By evening, he knew her work schedule.

By midnight, he knew every man who had tried to date her in the past year.

It wasn’t lust anymore.

It wasn’t just desire.

It was fixation.

Because for the first time in years —

Something had slipped through his fingers.

And Rafael Aragon did not lose things.

Especially not something that felt like it belonged to him.