Chocolate Cosmos

Chapter One

The rain pours in relentless sheets outside, blurring the neon lights of the small town I now find myself in. It feels like the universe is mocking me—stormy skies to match the storm in my life.

The receptionist's polite smile had felt more like a knife twist.

"Fully booked. I'm sorry, ma'am."

She wasn’t sorry.

So here I am, standing in the grand but somehow suffocating hotel foyer, my suitcase damp from the weather and my mood even darker. The thought of going back to that house—the one I once thought of as a safe haven with a "friend" I trusted—makes my stomach turn.

Friend. What a laughable title for someone who stole my manuscript and made me a pariah in a place where I barely knew anyone. Now she’s living in the comfort of lies while I’m left stranded, figuratively and literally.

I sigh and glance toward the hotel bar. It’s the only place here that promises even a shred of comfort.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I walk toward the amber glow of the bar. It’s cozy and intimate, with low lighting and soft jazz humming through the air. The faint scent of wood polish and citrus lingers, giving it a strangely soothing vibe. A group of people laugh quietly at a corner table, but most patrons are minding their own business.

Sliding onto one of the stools, I drop my bag at my feet and rub my temples. The bartender approaches, a middle-aged man with a kind but inquisitive gaze.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“Whiskey. Neat.” My voice is sharper than I intended, but he doesn’t flinch.

He nods and moves away to prepare my drink. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the weight of today.

“Bad day, huh?”

The voice is casual, easy, and comes from my left. I glance over and find a man leaning on the bar, his sandy-blond hair tousled like he’s just run a hand through it. He’s got that effortlessly charming vibe—bright eyes, a crooked smile, and an energy that screams “troublemaker.”

“You could say that,” I reply, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, sliding onto the stool next to mine. “I’m Ryan. And you are?”

“Leah,” I say, hesitant but curious.

“Well, Leah, you look like someone who could use a good laugh. Lucky for you, I happen to be hilarious.”

“Lucky me,” I say dryly, but a small smile tugs at my lips.

Ryan’s grin widens. “See? Progress already. What’s got you so down? Don’t tell me—stuck in this town because of the storm, and this fine establishment is out of rooms?”

I blink, surprised. “How’d you guess?”

“It’s the rain-soaked suitcase for me,” he says, gesturing at my bag. “Or maybe the haunted look in your eyes.”

I snort. “Haunted, huh? You’re dramatic.”

“Guilty.” He waves down the bartender and orders a drink. “But seriously, you seem... overwhelmed.”

“That’s one way to put it.” I take a sip of my whiskey as it’s placed in front of me.

Ryan tells me a ridiculous story about trying to impress a girl by pretending to be an art critic at a gallery opening. By the time he gets to the part where he accidentally insulted the artist to her face, I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt.

“You’re a mess,” I say, shaking my head.

“But an endearing one,” he counters, winking. “Admit it—I’m the highlight of your night.”

Before I can retort, the air shifts. It’s subtle, but undeniable.

From the corner of my eye, I notice a figure entering the bar. He moves with the kind of confidence that makes the world seem to part for him, his long strides measured and deliberate.

And then I see him.

Dark hair, slightly damp, falls in artful waves across his forehead. His ocean-blue eyes are startling—sharp and piercing, like they could unravel every secret you’ve ever tried to hide. His jawline could cut glass, and his broad shoulders fill out his black shirt perfectly.

There’s something almost predatory about him—the way he scans the room like he’s assessing threats and weaknesses. But beneath the danger, there’s an air of magnetism that’s impossible to ignore.

“Adrian,” Ryan calls, breaking my trance. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

Adrian’s gaze flicks to Ryan before landing on me. His eyes linger for a fraction too long, and my stomach flips.

“Traffic,” Adrian says simply, his voice low and smooth, like velvet laced with steel.

“Excuses, excuses,” Ryan quips, unbothered.

Adrian moves to stand beside Ryan, and I swear the air around us shifts again, charged with something I can’t quite name.

“This is Leah,” Ryan says, gesturing to me. “Leah, meet Adrian. He’s the brooding one.”

Adrian’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise,” I manage, though my voice comes out softer than I intended.

The bartender sets Adrian’s drink in front of him—a whiskey, like mine—and he takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving me.

“So,” Ryan says, breaking the silence. “Leah here is stranded. No rooms left. Can you believe that?”

Adrian raises an eyebrow. “And yet here she is, drinking whiskey with you. Bold.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t even know me.”

“True,” he says, tilting his glass slightly. “But I’m not wrong.”

Ryan chuckles. “Adrian has this annoying habit of being right about things. Don’t let it intimidate you.”

“Intimidate me?” I scoff, turning back to my drink. “Please.”

Ryan leans closer, grinning. “You sure about that? He’s got that whole mysterious, brooding thing going on. Women practically throw themselves at him.”

Adrian’s gaze flicks to Ryan, his expression unreadable. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope,” Ryan says cheerfully.

I hide my smile behind my glass. Brooding, dangerous, and irritatingly attractive. Great. Exactly what I don’t need right now.

Ryan suddenly sits up straighter. “Oh, I’ve got an idea. Leah, you can crash in my suite upstairs. It’s got two rooms, and I’m not using it tonight.”

“Seriously?” I ask, surprised.

“Of course,” Ryan says. “No strings, no ulterior motives. Just being a decent human for once.”

I hesitate, glancing at Adrian, who’s watching me intently. His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s waiting for me to refuse.

“I’ll pay you back,” I say firmly, looking back at Ryan.

Ryan waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I insist,” I say, meeting his gaze.

Adrian’s smirk returns. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Persistent,” I correct, glaring at him.

Ryan laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic. “She’s got spirit. I like her.”

The elevator ride is tense, but not in a bad way. Adrian stands beside me, his presence overwhelming in the confined space.

I try not to look at him, but it’s impossible. The way his shirt clings to his broad chest, the casual confidence in his stance, the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw—everything about him is maddeningly attractive.

“You can stare,” Adrian says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

My head snaps toward him. “What?”

“You don’t have to peek at me through your eyelashes,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Heat floods my face. “I wasn’t staring.”

Ryan snickers. “Oh, she was definitely staring.”

“I was not,” I insist, glaring at him.

Adrian tilts his head, his smirk deepening. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” I shoot back, crossing my arms.

“Being stared at,” he says simply, his tone calm and matter-of-fact.

I open my mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. His confidence is infuriating.

Ryan laughs, shaking his head. “You two are something else.”

Adrian doesn’t respond, his gaze still on me. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“For not calling you out sooner,” he says, his smirk widening.

I scowl, but there’s no hiding the small smile tugging at my lips. He’s insufferable. Infuriating. And entirely too attractive.