The Second Touch

​Then, boom, we hugged, her hand wrapping tightly around my waist.

​The force of the push was strong enough that I instinctively wrapped my arms around her, holding her steady. It wasn't a gentle embrace; it was the sudden, jarring contact of two people colliding, yet the moment was anything but jarring to my senses.

​Her body was pressed against mine, and I could feel the sharp intake of her breath against my suit jacket. Her hands, which had flown out to steady herself, were now clutching my waist. The delicate scent of her perfume—something floral and expensive, yet surprisingly subtle—filled my lungs.

​For a long second, we remained that way, frozen in the doorway of the Rose Café. The world, which had already quieted for me when she walked in, now seemed entirely non-existent.

​I was aware of every point of contact: the soft silk of her blouse under my hands, the steady beat of her heart, and the way her forehead rested against my shoulder. The intensity of it was intoxicating. It was more contact, more genuine intimacy, than I had ever shared with her, and it felt like a crucial piece of a puzzle I hadn't realised I was trying to solve had just clicked into place.

​She was the first to move. A small, embarrassed gasp escaped her lips, and she pulled back sharply, her cheeks flushing a delicate rose.

​“I… I’m so sorry, Mr Cole,” she stammered, smoothing down her skirt with trembling hands. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine.

​I found my voice, deep and slightly rougher than I intended. “It’s Ethan. And there’s no need to apologise. Are you alright?”

​“Yes, I’m fine. Just… startled,” she replied, still avoiding my gaze. She was trying to regain her composure, the cool, collected CEO facade she wore like armour. But the flush on her skin and the slight wobble in her voice betrayed her.

​I reached out, but stopped myself before I could touch her arm. “That person was in a hurry,” I observed, the sudden return to mundane conversation feeling strangely inadequate after the electric moment we’d shared.

​“Yes,” she murmured, finally lifting her eyes. This time, there was no unreadable calm. Her eyes were wide, a little confused, and something else… a flicker of the same intensity I felt.

​“I should really go now,” she said again, her tone more determined this time, as if trying to break the spell.

​“Andrea,” I started, wanting to say something profound, something to keep her there, but the right words wouldn't form. All that came out was a simple, “Be careful.”

​She nodded once, a quick, almost jerky movement, and then turned and walked swiftly out the door and down the street.

​I watched her go, my hands still feeling the ghost of her weight against my chest. The encounter—the shoe lace, the collision, the unexpected embrace—it was too much of a coincidence. It felt like destiny was pushing us together aggressively.

​Ryan’s words echoed in my mind: “Man, you’ve got it bad. You’ve been into that woman since forever.”

​He was right.

​I had been admiring her empire, her drive, and her untouchable reputation. But now, I had held her. I had felt the human vulnerability beneath the powerful facade, and it changed everything. The game of distant admiration was over. This was a chase now.

​I stepped out onto the sidewalk, inhaling the sharp, cool air. I needed to see her again, soon. The formal return of my jacket had ended in a passionate, accidental hug, and that couldn't be the end of the story.

​I pulled out my phone, resisting the urge to call the unknown number she had used. I needed a better approach. A formal, unavoidable approach.

​Think, Ethan. Think like a businessman.

​Andrea Williams respected power, control, and strategy. I needed to play her game, but with a different set of rules—mine.

​I called my assistant.

​“Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, Sarah. Then, I want you to arrange an impromptu, high-level meeting with The Williams Group for tomorrow morning. Make it seem urgent, but keep the topic vague—something about market consolidation or an expansion opportunity.”

​“Sir, The Williams Group? That’s awfully last-minute. Who should I contact?” Sarah’s voice was laced with surprise.

​“Contact her office directly. The CEO. Tell them it’s a necessary, confidential discussion that can’t wait. I want Andrea Williams in my boardroom at 9 AM sharp. Make it happen.”

​I hung up, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. She thought she could walk away, leaving me with a racing heart and an old jacket.

​She was wrong.

​This wasn't about spilt wine anymore. This was about finally standing on equal ground, not just in business, but in person, and showing her that the Ethan Cole she had just briefly held was not going to let go.

​I got into my car, the tension in my chest having solidified into a thrilling determination. I'd meet her again, but this time, it wouldn't be an accident.

​I would make sure of it.