Eyes Of steel, Words of fire

They said Alexander Knight was a man you didn’t meet you survived him.

Cold, ruthless, untouchable. The kind of billionaire whose empire was built on silence and fear.

So why did it feel like his eyes weren’t just watching me…

They were peeling me apart, piece by piece, as if he already knew my darkest Secrets

---

The music swelled, violins filling the air as the glittering crowd parted in waves of laughter and conversation. But I barely noticed any of it.

All I could see were his eyes.

Steel gray. Sharp. Piercing.

Like twin blades forged to cut through pretense.

I should have looked away. Should have busied myself with polite chatter, smiled at the right men, laughed at the right jokes. That’s what the Elena of my first life had done safe, invisible, forgettable.

But not this time.

This time, I held his gaze.

It was reckless. Dangerous. Thrilling.

Across the ballroom, Alexander Knight’s lips curved not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. Just enough to suggest he’d noticed I wasn’t afraid.

My heart hammered, but I forced my steps to remain steady as I excused myself from my mother’s side and crossed the floor. The sound of my heels clicked against marble, echoing louder in my ears than the orchestra itself.

He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t so much as tilt his head. He simply stood there, watching me approach like a predator watching prey make the mistake of coming closer.

When I stopped before him, the air seemed to shift—cooler, sharper, as though he carried winter in his wake.

“Mr. Knight,” I said, my voice soft, steady, betraying none of the storm inside me.

“Elena Dawson.” His tone was deep, smooth, but there was no warmth in it. Just fact. Statement. Recognition.

He knew my name.

I shouldn’t have been surprised men like him knew everything. But still, a shiver traced my spine.

---

A Dangerous Conversation

“You know me?” I asked lightly, tilting my head as though amused.

“I make it a habit,” he replied, “to know every player worth noting in this city.” His eyes flicked briefly over my gown, my posture, then back to my face. “And some who are not.”

I should have been insulted. Instead, I almost smiled. Cold, brutal honesty. No flattery. No lies. How refreshing after Richard.

“And which am I, Mr. Knight?” I asked. “A player worth noting, or one who is not?”

He studied me. For a long, unnerving beat, he said nothing. Just held my gaze, as though weighing me against some invisible scale.

Finally, he murmured, “The answer depends on whether you plan to repeat your last mistake.”

My breath caught. My fingers tightened around my clutch.

What did he mean by that?

Mistake. The word rang louder than the music, louder than the laughter around us. Did he somehow… did he know? Impossible. He couldn’t know about my first life. Couldn’t know how I’d chosen wrong, how I’d destroyed myself by trusting Richard.

And yet those eyes. They saw too much.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a polite laugh. “You speak as though you know me well enough to judge my choices.”

“I don’t judge,” Alexander said flatly. “I observe. And I remember.”

---

The Shadow of Richard

“Elena.”

The interruption was smooth, eager, and oh-so-familiar.

Richard.

I turned to see him weaving through the crowd, his smile wide, his hand already reaching for me as if to lay claim. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

My skin prickled. Of course he would appear now.

Richard’s gaze flicked to Alexander, and I saw the faintest flicker of unease before he masked it with charm. “Mr. Knight,” he said, offering a hand. “Richard Hale. A pleasure.”

Alexander’s eyes lowered to the hand but didn’t move. Didn’t shake. Didn’t acknowledge. He just stood there, silent, his aura colder than ice.

Richard’s smile faltered. “We’ve… crossed paths, I believe.”

“Unlikely,” Alexander replied without inflection. “I don’t frequent gutters.”

The words landed like a blade. Sharp, final.

I bit back a laugh, covering it with a sip of champagne. Richard’s jaw tightened, but he recovered quickly, sliding an arm around my waist.

“Elena,” he said warmly, “come, I’d like you to meet someone.”

For a moment, I froze. In my first life, I would have gone. Obedient, pliant, ready to please.

But this was my second chance.

I stepped lightly out of his hold, letting his hand fall away. “I’m speaking with Mr. Knight,” I said smoothly. “I’ll find you later.”

The shock in Richard’s eyes was delicious. His smile strained. “Of course.” With one last glance at Alexander a glare he tried to disguise Richard turned and vanished back into the crowd.

I released a slow breath.

---

Alexander’s Warning

“You dismissed him easily,” Alexander remarked.

“Shouldn’t I?” I asked.

“Few do,” he said. “He’s persuasive. Persistent.”

“Poisonous,” I corrected under my breath.

Alexander’s eyes flickered just slightly but enough to tell me he’d heard.

“You know him,” I said carefully.

“I know of him,” Alexander replied. “And men like him.” His gaze sharpened. “Men who think charm is power. Who think lies can buy loyalty.”

Every word felt like it was being spoken directly to the wound Richard had left in my first life.

“I’m not so easily fooled,” I said softly.

His eyes bored into mine, as though searching for the truth. “We’ll see.”

---

The Dance

The orchestra swelled, a waltz filling the air. Couples began to drift to the dance floor, laughter and music blending in glittering harmony.

Alexander extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

My pulse skipped. My mother’s voice echoed in my head Smile, Elena. Don’t look like you’re plotting murder.

But as I slid my hand into his, I realized I wasn’t plotting murder. I was plotting survival. And maybe… maybe something more.

His palm was firm, his grip steady as he led me to the floor. When his other hand settled at my waist, a strange heat jolted through me, contrasting the ice in his expression.

We moved in time with the music, his steps precise, commanding. I followed easily, almost too easily, as though my body already knew the rhythm he demanded.

“You’re different,” Alexander murmured.

I tilted my head. “From what?”

“From who you pretend to be.”

The words landed like a strike. My breath hitched. Did he did he see through me already?

I tried to laugh it off. “And who do I pretend to be, Mr. Knight?”

His lips curved slightly. “The innocent. The naïve. The girl who doesn’t know wolves when she sees them.”

I froze. The music spun on, but my body moved automatically, guided by his sure hands.

“Perhaps,” I whispered, “I’ve learned to recognize wolves.”

“Perhaps,” he said, eyes glinting, “you’ve become one yourself.”

The words sent a shiver through me not of fear, but of recognition.

---

As the waltz slowed, his hand tightened on mine. He leaned down, his voice low enough only I could hear.

“Be careful, Elena. The last time you trusted the wrong man… you lost everything.”

My blood ran cold.

I pulled back, searching his eyes, but he gave me nothing just that same unreadable steel.

How could he possibly know that?