Could it coincidence?

~002

He Can’t Forget Her

---

The morning sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Xavier Louis’s penthouse, golden rays casting long shadows across the stark, modern furniture.

The skyline of Paris stood still, dignified, unbothered by the turmoil of one man. But within those high-rise walls, Xavier couldn’t shake the feeling of disruption.

He sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, a tumbler of aged whiskey in hand even though it was barely past eight.

Sleep hadn’t come easy. His sheets were tangled. His mind had been louder than the city below. The smell of her perfume—soft jasmine and something citrusy—still lingered on his skin like a ghost.

One night.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

He didn’t even ask her name. She hadn’t offered. It was instinctual, electric, and completely out of character. He didn’t do things like that.

He was too controlled, too cold, too calculating. The CEO of LV Groups didn’t bring home women he met at social galas. He didn’t let his guard down. He didn’t feel.

Until last night.

He tipped the glass to his lips, savoring the burn. But even the finest whiskey couldn’t sear away the memory of her—how her eyes looked like they were made of starlight and defiance.

How her laugh had been unguarded, like she hadn’t smiled in a while and didn’t care who noticed when she did. How she had asked for nothing. Not his number. Not a promise. Not a future.

And yet, she’d left him wanting everything.

Xavier stood and walked toward the tall windows, gazing down at the cars and people moving like dots in a chess game far below.

Everything in his life was a strategy. A plan. A purpose. But this woman—she had disrupted it all. He didn’t like the feeling of losing control.

He picked up his phone and dialed.

The call rang once before it was answered. “Sir?” came a crisp voice on the other end—Marcus, his head of private security.

“I need a name,” Xavier said without greeting. “From last night. The gala.”

There was a pause. “Which one, sir?”

“She was wearing a deep green dress. Short afro. Medium height. Brown eyes.” He paused. “Beautiful. She left with me.”

“I’ll review security footage. Should have something within a few hours.”

Xavier hung up. He didn’t care how long it took—he needed to know who she was. Not just for closure. He told himself it was curiosity. A loose end. That’s all.

But deep down, he already knew it was something more.

---

Across the city, in a far humbler apartment nestled between a row of old brick buildings, Bella Bluefield was having a very different kind of morning.

She stood barefoot in her kitchen, wearing a faded university T-shirt and shorts, staring into the microwave as her tea reheated. Her curls were still in a bonnet, her lips pressed into a hard line.

What the hell had she done?

The night before kept replaying in her mind like a movie she couldn’t turn off. The gala. The stranger with the cold eyes and perfect smile. The way his voice had made her knees weak.

And then… his lips. His hands. His body. The way he had looked at her afterward—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

And then he was gone.

She hadn’t expected a fairy tale. She wasn’t naïve. But she had expected… something. A call. A note. A name. But there was nothing. Just silence.

Bella yanked open the microwave and grabbed the mug before it finished beeping. She took a long sip, trying to force her stomach to settle. It didn’t work.

“Good going, Bella” she muttered. “You finally get a night that felt like more than sex, and you let it be just that.”

Her phone buzzed on the counter. A message from her best friend, Zara.

Zara: U alive? U didn’t text after the gala. Spill, girl. Details.

Bella sighed. She didn’t even know how to begin explaining. She’d gone to the gala with borrowed shoes and fake confidence, intending to network, maybe slip someone her portfolio. Instead, she’d left with the most intense night of her life and a hollow space in her chest.

She ignored the message and opened her email instead.

Her heart skipped when she saw the subject line:

LV GROUPS – INTERVIEW INVITATION

She blinked. Read it again.

LV GROUPS?

She’d applied months ago. Got no response. Now suddenly, they wanted to interview her for a Junior Creative Design Consultant role?

It didn’t make sense.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

Was this a scam?

But the logo was legitimate. The address matched their headquarters. The email came from a real HR rep.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

Could it be coincidence?

She didn’t want to believe the man from last night had anything to do with this. But a part of her—deep, anxious, and unsure—wondered if maybe he had watched her walk away and had felt something too.

Something strong enough to bring her back into his world.

She should delete the email.

She should ignore the ache in her chest.

But instead, Bella clicked Reply.