CHAPTER 2: FIRST MEETING

DANIEL

The fatigue hit me like a cloudy sky, heavy and dull, sinking into my bones. Hours of back-to-back meetings had stripped me bare, and all I wanted was to go home, pour myself a glass of scotch, and sit in silence—just me and the dark. Maybe even crack open a book if my eyes didn’t give out first. But of course, Klaus wouldn’t let me have that peace. “You have to attend the gala, Daniel,” he’d barked earlier, his tone the kind you can’t argue with because he’ll keep at it until you give in. “This is your gala. Do you understand what it looks like if you don’t show up?” So here I was. Stranded in a ballroom that glimmered like a jewel box but felt like a cage, surrounded by shallow smiles, rehearsed laughter, and the kind of conversations that meant nothing but demanded everything. Klaus nudged me with his elbow, muttering like an impatient parent correcting a child. “Smile. You look like you’re attending a wake, not your own celebration.” I forced one, brittle and fake, the kind that didn’t reach my eyes but I gave it all the same to get him off my back. “Better,” he sighed, though he didn’t mean it. “At least try to look human, Daniel. You’re not marble or a still life object; you’re flesh. Show them that.” Flesh. Funny, I didn’t feel like flesh. I felt like stone—cold, tired, immovable. Finally, Klaus groaned and waved me off. “Go cool down. Take a break, reset your face. And when you come back, please try to look like you don’t hate the entire room.” I didn’t need telling twice. I ducked into the bathroom, leaned against the sink, and scrolled through emails and texts until the words blurred together. Thirty minutes passed without me realising, my body still, my mind buzzing. I was still staring at the glow of my phone when it happened—when she bumped into me. The impact jolted me back into the world. Instinct made my hands reach out, steadying her before she stumbled. The overhead lights poured down, catching the scarlet silk of her gown, fabric that clung and flowed all at once—liquid fire wrapping around her. And then I saw her eyes. Dark brown, flecked with gold, sharp enough to slice through me and soft enough to make my chest clench. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. “Apologies,” she whispered. Her voice… God. Low and melodic, but with an undertone I couldn’t name. I swallowed, words catching in my throat. “No… my fault.” They sounded wrong, clumsy, like they didn’t belong to me. There was a charge in the air, sharp and sudden, tethering me to her. And then—just as quickly—she smiled, faint and unreadable, and slipped away. A shadow in red. I stood frozen, chest hollow, already missing something I didn’t even have. “Let me guess,” Klaus drawled, materialising beside me with that smirk that made me want to punch him. “You think she did that on purpose? Pretty girl baiting the big fish?” “No.” My denial was immediate, sharper than I expected. I surprised myself with the conviction in it. “And if she did… I’d have been a willing catch.” Klaus raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. I ignored him anyway, my gaze darting across the room, hunting for a glimpse of her. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding. Who was she? The rest of the night became torture—smiling at people I didn’t care about and nodding through meaningless chatter, all while scanning the crowd. I spotted her again, sitting with a man old enough to be her father. Something primal and ugly surged in me. Possession. Hunger. I didn’t think. I just moved. “I’m cutting in,” I said, no preamble, no question. The man chuckled, amused, and stepped aside. And then she was in my arms. Her hand on my shoulder. My palm at her waist. The music swelled, but it barely existed. The world narrowed to her. “Bold move,” she said, her tone perfectly balanced between challenge and curiosity. “Necessary,” I replied, locking eyes with her. “Who are you?” Her lips curved—teasing, infuriating. “Does it matter?” “It does to me.” She tilted her head as though weighing her answer, then crushed the hope with four words: “You won’t get my name.” The song ended before I could press further. A waiter appeared with champagne. She took a glass, sipped, and set it back down like it meant nothing. “I should go,” she said lightly. Too lightly. Like leaving cost her nothing. Panic clawed at my chest. “Wait—” I reached for her wrist. My fingers brushed metal. Cold. Hard. A gun. Adrenaline slammed into me. My mind spun. No one came armed to a gala like this unless they had a reason. Her eyes flicked to mine, calm as ever. She didn’t flinch, didn’t break her composure. Just one lingering look—and then she was gone. I stood there, hand empty, lungs tight, everything in me screaming to chase her. “Klaus,” I said, my voice low, urgent. “Have the men follow her. I want everything. Who she is. Where she came from, who she hangs with, who are parents and enemies are, every single detail should be gathered missing nothing. ” He stared at me for a beat, surprised by my tone, but nodded and made the call. An hour later, the reports came back empty. She’d vanished. I left the gala soon after, suffocating in my own celebration, the weight of her absence pressing harder than the crowd ever could. Outside, the night air was cold, biting against my skin, but it couldn’t quiet the storm in my head. Her face, her voice, the whisper of silk against my palm, the feel of that weapon—all of it haunted me. Who was she? And why did I know, deep in my bones, that my life wouldn’t return to what it was until I found her again?