CHAPTER 1: DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF

Halle’s POV

It was Rena’s wedding day.

The only person I would cross continents for.

We've been friends since freshman year. The kind of friendship where you don't need to finish your sentences because the other person already lived through the thought with you.

As an only child, Rena felt like a sister to me, always there through the good and the bad. She was always there, through the messy breakups and the late-night study sessions that turned into existential crises.

Time flew by so quickly; I hardly noticed.

Rena used to say love was a luxury she couldn't afford. She was practical, grounded, and a bit cynical. Yet here she was, standing on a private beach, marrying Larry Grey of Grey Tech Industries, one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the country. He was a hopeless romantic who spent three years trying to catch her eye before he finally convinced her she deserved to be loved that loudly.

Here they were.

Everyone expected the wedding to be a lavish display of billionaire wealth, but Rena insisted on something simple yet elegant. Even so, the luxury was impossible to hide.

Plus, when you're a Grey, simple still looks like a dream.

We were standing on a private beach, the breeze carried the scent of salt and thousands of white roses. The salt air messed with my hair while I stood there in a gorgeous gold coloured, off-shoulder dress with a decent slit which complemented the outfit.

The destination was beautiful, a comforting, romantic setting. I loved everything about the wedding: the decorations, the flowers, the confetti, the huge picture frames of the couple, the aisle, and the instrumentalists by the side.

It was a dream come true, and the event planner did an incredible job. Guests had arrived and were seated as we waited for the bride. The groom stood at the altar, visibly anxious.

The string quartet began playing “Those Eyes” by New West as Rena walked down the aisle with her dad.

I felt tears welling up; she looked so stunning in her wedding dress, Larry couldn’t control his smile as tears clouded his vision. I blinked quickly, refusing to let my mascara run before the ceremony even started.

After the ceremony, the reception was a graceful chaos of laughter, dancing, photos, champagne towers, and speeches. I took a few photos with the couple and retreated to a secluded table near the edge of the terrace.

I had just lifted my champagne to my lips when a hand reached over my shoulder and snatched the glass right out of my fingers.

He did it so swiftly, not a drop of champagne spilled.

Annoyance flared within me. But before I could react, my heart skipped a beat on seeing who it was causing the words to die in my throat.

Standing there, looking down at me with a blank expression, was Adrian Vale.

Adrian Vale.

Larry’s closest friend. The best man who apparently ‘couldn’t make it.’ The one man I had spent two years of my life avoiding. It was infuriating knowing he still made my heart jump.

He lifted my glass to his lips with his eyes on mine as he took a slow, deliberate sip.

"Having fun?" he asked, sipping my drink, clearly enjoying the annoyed look on my face.

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Don't you have something better to do than irritate me, Adrian?" I snapped, trying to keep my tone calm.

He didn't look annoyed.

Instead, he laughed like I had just said something amusing.

Well, that was a first.

It was soft, calm, and unexpected, almost beautiful. It was the first time I'd ever seen him genuinely laugh, and for a moment, I lost my train of thought and actually forgot why I was mad at him.

“I enjoy testing reflexes,” He set the empty glass down.

Adrian didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to. His aura spoke volumes. Authority. Precision and a quiet kind of danger. The kind of man who never raised his voice because the consequences of ignoring him were always too high.

When he walked into a room, the atmosphere adjusted to accommodate him. He was rarely seen but impossible to forget when you see him. There was just this gravity to him.

He leaves quite the impression. I’d know because I experienced it first hand.

"So? Why are you here now?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the fact that my heart was racing.

“What kind of best friend skips his friend’s wedding?” I continued.

“The busy kind,” He pulled a chair closer and sat, giving me his full attention.

“Good to see you again, Starlight.”

Starlight.

Three years ago at Larry’s birthday, he gave me that nickname because I had a habit of standing where the light hit best. I didn’t even know that about myself.

That night had changed things. I had too many drinks which accidentally led me to him, spilling my drink on his very expensive white shirt that probably costs more than my apartment.

I remember apologising profusely as I tried to clean his shirt with my hands like it would make the stain disappear, when he stopped my hands, holding it against his chest. My heart raced when our eyes met… neither of us spoke, yet the unfamiliar tension between us was impossible to ignore.

I expected irritation. But instead, he looked at me like I was a puzzle.

We talked for hours. I woke up in his bed the next morning. Fully dressed. Alone. Nothing happened. And for some twisted reason, that had bothered me more than if something had.

I moved to New York shortly after. I was a bit grateful because the distance was easier than whatever that was.

Back to now.

"Too busy for your friend? Why do I even care? Forget I asked," I said, my voice rising in a way that betrayed how disturbed I was by his presence.

“You look…” he paused, letting the words hang, slow and intentional.

Not rushed. Not casual.

“Beautiful,” His gaze was warm, intense.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart stuttered.

I stood abruptly in an attempt to distance myself from him, needing to put space between us before I did something stupid. Something like, not being able to stop myself from kissing him.

But he was faster.

He caught my wrist. Not tight… but just enough to let me know he won’t be letting me go this time.

Or anytime soon.

“Running again?” He asked.

“I’m not running,” I lied.

Our eyes met and I swear he could tell. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

“Then stay.” He said softly.

I couldn’t refuse. Didn’t have the willpower to.

The violin band shifted songs. “Dandelions” by Ruth B. filled the air.

Wow, perfect timing to let my emotions shoot through the roof.

Stupid band. Stupid feelings.

He didn't ask me to dance. He didn't have to. He just held out his hand, and like a fool, I took it.

On the dance floor, his hand settled at the small of my back, warm and firm. It felt possessive without being forceful. I felt it everywhere.

“You’re tense,” he murmured near my ear.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying,” he whispered close to my ear.

I hated the fact that he could see right through me.

The world blurred, guests fading into color and light. He turned me slowly, my back brushing his chest.

“You still react that way,” His breath skimmed the shell of my ear.

“React, how?” I avoided his gaze.

“Like you’re aware of the heat…and yet, you want it anyway,”

My heart betrayed me.

At that moment, I felt his grip tightened slightly when a man brushed too close to me. It was subtle, protective and controlled. For a brief second, his expression changed.

Not anger.

Calculation.

As though he was aware of something I wasn’t. I looked at him to check if something was wrong but I couldn’t read him. He noticed me staring.

“I can feel your pulse from here, Starlight,” he spoke before I could ask any questions. His way of distracting me.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Vale,”

His mouth curved slowly. “Oh, I’m not,”

And then,

The lights flickered. Just once but long enough to cause unease in my stomach. When they came back, Adrian’s posture had changed. He was more alert now.

His hand didn't leave my waist. But his attention had moved to something beyond me.

Something in the crowd.