CHAPTER 2: The Collision
1066 Words
ARABELLA'S POV
The VIP area of La Meré was a world of its own.
Golden chandeliers dangled from the ceiling like frozen drops of sunlight, and the faint scent of jasmine mixed with the soft hum of a piano somewhere nearby. Every table was separated by tall crystal dividers, giving the space an air of exclusivity, the kind that whispered, only the rich breathe here.
Daniel led us to a corner table overlooking the city through a wide glass wall. The skyline glittered beneath us, every light pulsing like a heartbeat.
I sank into the velvet chair and looked around, pretending not to be impressed, but I was. Everything shimmered, from the marble floor to the waiters who glided around like choreographed dancers.
“Nice choice,” I murmured, tracing my finger over the edge of the gold-plated menu.
Daniel chuckled. “I only bring special people here.”
Sophie blushed again. “You mean important clients?”
He leaned closer, smiling. “I mean you, Sophie.”
I rolled my eyes. “And here I was thinking this was a business dinner.”
They both laughed as a waiter approached tall, polite, and dressed in a crisp white shirt.
“Good evening. May I take your orders?”
Daniel ordered something complicated that sounded like a French poem, Sophie followed, and I just said, “Uh… anything with chicken and rice, please.”
The waiter smiled professionally and left.
Then it began, the flirting.
The soft giggles, the shared looks, the hand brushes across the table.
I stared down at my napkin, feeling like a third wheel at a honeymoon.
Finally, I stood up. “You two should have your moment. I’ll go get some coffee.”
Sophie blinked. “You sure? Dinner’s almost—”
“I’ll be quick,” I said with a small smile.
She reached into her purse and handed me her credit card. “Here. Just in case.”
I tucked it into my jacket pocket and walked away, grateful for the excuse to breathe.
---
The lower level of the restaurant was quieter — warm lighting, laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint smell of roasted beans from the coffee bar.
I slowed my pace, watching couples laugh, families eat, and friends toast to good news. Everyone seemed so free.
I’d spent years trapped in golden cages, eating dinners that weren’t dinners, smiling at people I didn’t trust, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Here, no one cared who I was. No one bowed. No one expected perfection.
I smiled to myself. Maybe this was what peace felt like.
Lost in thought, I turned a corner and—
“Oh my God!” I gasped as a cup of coffee splashed across a man’s expensive-looking suit.
The man froze, dark liquid dripping down his chest. He looked up at me slowly, tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp cheekbones and eyes as cold as winter glass.
“Are you blind?” His voice was low but dangerous.
“I—I’m so sorry!” I stammered, reaching for napkins. “I wasn’t looking, I—”
He stepped back, glaring at me like I was something beneath his shoe. “You think ‘sorry’ fixes this? Do you have any idea what this suit costs?”
My instinct kicked in. I straightened, composed myself, and gave a small curtsey. “I truly apologize, sir. It was an accident.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, you curtsy too? What are you, some kind of princess?”
The words stung more than they should have.
Something in me snapped.
I looked him dead in the eyes and said quietly, “You don’t have to be such a jerk.”
His smirk deepened. “Excuse me?”
And before I could stop myself, my hand connected sharply with his cheek.
The sound echoed through the entire café.
Gasps filled the air. People turned. Cameras probably clicked.
“I said I was sorry,” I hissed, my heart pounding. “You’re the one who’s mannerless.”
For a second, he just stared at me stunned, furious, and… something else I couldn’t name.
Then a beautiful brunette in a tight red dress rushed to his side, followed by a bodyguard. “Alexander, are you okay?” she asked frantically.
Alexander.
So that was his name.
He didn’t answer her. His eyes stayed locked on me, burning with something between rage and fascination as I turned and walked away.
---
When I got back upstairs, Daniel and Sophie were laughing softly, their hands almost touching. The sight made me grin despite myself.
“Well, that was quick,” Daniel said. “Did they run out of coffee?”
“Something like that,” I said, sliding back into my seat.
Sophie gave me a curious look. “You okay?”
“I’ll tell you at home,” I murmured just as the waiter arrived with our food.
Dinner continued — laughter, chatter, sparkling champagne — but part of me was still back downstairs, thinking about the man with stormy eyes and the arrogant smirk.
---
ALEXANDER’S POV
The penthouse was silent, except for the faint hum of city lights through the glass walls.
Nicole lay tangled in silk sheets, her voice soft. “Come back to bed, baby.”
I didn’t move. I stared out the window, glass of whiskey in hand, jaw tight. “Go to sleep, Nicole.”
She pouted but obeyed, rolling over.
I walked to the bar, poured another drink, and tossed it back in one go. The image of her — that girl — replayed in my mind like a glitch I couldn’t delete.
That slap.
That fire in her eyes.
No one — no one — had ever dared touch me, let alone humiliate me in public.
“What the hell was she even doing there?” I muttered to myself. “Walking around like some lost angel…”
I chuckled darkly, shaking my head. “An angel of chaos. That’s what she is.”
I leaned against the counter, staring at the city lights.
“Enjoy your little moment, whoever you are,” I said under my breath, my voice low and dangerous. “Because I’ll find you. And when I do…”
A slow smirk curved my lips.
“…you’ll wish you never crossed Alexander Knight.”
- Writer
