CHAPTER 2: FIRST MEETING

DANIEL

The fatigue descended upon me like a blurred mist. I was exhausted from hours of exhausting meetings and desperately wanted to go home and have some much-needed alone time. Before Klaus, my best friend and business partner ruined the dream, my mind had already begun to imagine a peaceful evening—scotch, stillness, perhaps a book. His voice had pierced my brain's static with its forceful tone.

"You must attend the gala, Daniel. This is your gala. Are you aware of the consequences of your absence? He was aware that it was one of those debates I couldn't win. I was stranded in a glittering ballroom that felt more like a cage, all decked out, with incessant small talk and

Klaus was a perfectionist; he nipped at me like a father at his son's ear. "Smile," he complained, nudging me. "You look like you're at a funeral." "Come on. It's one night. Show the donors you're human, not some stoic, untouchable CEO. At least try to look approachable." I forced my lips into what I hoped was a smile, but the effort felt hollow not even touching my face.

Klaus shook his head and groaned. "Go cool off," he murmured, dismissing me with a gesture. "Take a break, fix your mood, and for God's sake, come back looking like you don't hate everyone here."

I didn't require two reminders. I excused myself and withdrew into the bathroom's safety. I spent thirty minutes idly reading through messages and emails while leaning on the sink. I was still staring at the screen when I walked away.

I was so distracted that I didn't see her until she bumped into me. My hands automatically reached out to steady her as the shock of her hit knocked me out of my reverie. She passed beneath the glaring light that revealed the scarlet of her gown like liquid fire. Skimming her body in a charming union of style and peril.

I then saw her eyes. They had a subdued intensity that fixed me to the spot; they were rich, deep brown, and flecked with gold. I lost my ability to breathe. She whispered, "Apologies," in a gentle, melodic voice that was tinged with a suggestion of something deeper. I managed to say, "No, it's my fault," but the words seemed awkward and alien to me. Something I couldn't identify charged the moment that drew us together. She didn't stay. She glided away with a subtle, mysterious smile, moving with purposeful fluidity and disappearing into the crowd as if she had never been there. I stayed motionless for a long time, feeling a strange emptiness in my chest.

Klaus's tone brought me back to the present. He smirked and drewled, "Let me guess," as he approached. "You believe she intentionally bumped into you? For the large fish, a tiny bait?"

"No." My denial was immediate, and even I was surprised by the assurance in my voice. "I would be a willing victim if she did.

However, that wasn't deliberate. Klaus furrowed his brow, but I looked across the room and ignored him. The thought that she might still be around was unnerving. "Who was she?" Instead of whispering to Klaus, I whispered to myself. I was immediately and completely intrigued.

I had to locate her again, regardless of how absurd it seemed. It was a tortuous parade of forced chats and shallow flattery that went on and on.

The fact that the gala had been held in my honour irritated me more and more every second. It was impossible to ignore the guests' carefully veiled interest in my marital status as they talked and conjectured about my personal life. They didn't know. I had located her already. Her apathy was both frustrating and interesting; she didn't even look my way when I was presented on stage. This was not a woman attracted to prestige or money. She was something else entirely, and her serene poise spoke it all.

The evening changed with the first dance. I saw her on the other side of the room, walking with a man who looked old enough to be her father. I felt a horrible, primordial yearning to possess that I was unable to control. I interrupted without a prelude, striding towards them before I could change my mind. I said, "I'm cutting in," in a tone that made no space for compromise. He laughed and stepped aside, and then she was in my arms. My other arm settled at her waist as her palm rested on my shoulder, its touch electrifying. The world had shrunk to the two of us, but the music churned and eddied around us. She said, "Bold move," in a tone that was tauntingly neutral. "Necessary," I said. I turned to face her. "Who are you?" Maddeningly coy, her lips had twisted into the tiniest smile. "Does it matter?" "It does to me." She inclined her head as if carefully considering each syllable before tossing them all out in one go.

"You won't get my name." I was unable to continue for an answer after the song ended. A waiter appeared and offered us wine glasses. She accepted hers, sipped once, and then set it on a passing tray. "I should go," she said, her tone light but final. Panic flared in my chest. I couldn't let her leave yet.

Without thinking, I reached out, my fingertips brushing across her wrist. I sensed it at that moment. Chilly metal. A firearm. My thoughts were racing, and a shock wave rushed through my veins. Unless they had a reason, no one showed out at an event like this armed. My instincts were screaming for clarification. However, there was no sign of emotion on her face.

She took a step back, her movements fluid and graceful, her eyes held mine for a fraction of a second too long, and her motions were slow and smooth. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

With a quiet, desperate voice, I turned to Klaus. "Instruct the men". Make them follow her. I'm curious about every detail about her. Klaus's eyes grew wide, but he remained silent. With a nod, he took out his phone to communicate the directions.

The reports returned empty one hour later. She was gone. It was misty the rest of the night. Having fallen into a foul temper, I left the crowd. I felt as though I was being choked by the weight of her absence. At last, I slipped out of sight and vanished from the gala.

The chilly breeze outside felt good on my skin, but it didn't do anything for my head. The fluidity of her movements, the upward slant of her gaze, and the cool weight of the gun concealed beneath her clothing were all vivid and persistent images that lasted in my mind. Who was she? And why did I have the unshakeable feeling that until I found her again, my life would never be the same?