The Second Collision
878 Words
CHAPTER TWO
EVELYN
I didn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the letters again — A.V. — burned into the bottom of the shipment contract like a brand. My father had been hiding something big. Something dangerous. And the stranger in the alley… the way he looked at me…
No.
It couldn’t be connected.
I was being paranoid.
By morning, I had convinced myself of one thing: I needed answers. And I wasn’t going to get them sitting in my apartment staring at a folder.
So I drove to Rossi Imports.
The warehouse buzzed with activity forklifts, shouting, crates being moved. Men nodded at me as I passed, some respectful, some wary. Being the boss’s daughter meant I was either protected or resented. Usually both.
I headed straight for my father’s office.
But before I reached the door, someone stepped in front of me.
Marco. My father’s right hand. Built like a brick wall with a face carved from stone.
“You’re early,” he said.
“I need to speak with my father.”
“He’s not here.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
Marco’s jaw tightened. “He said you’re not to be involved in business matters today.”
That was new. And suspicious.
I crossed my arms. “Since when does he give you instructions about me?”
Marco didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The message was clear:
Stay out of it.
Which only made me want to dig deeper.
I turned to leave — and froze.
Because standing at the far end of the warehouse, half in shadow, was the man from last night.
Same suit. Same dark eyes. Same unsettling calm.
He was watching me.
And this time, he didn’t look away.
My heart slammed against my ribs. What was he doing here? How did he know this place? Who was he?
Before I could move, he pushed off the wall and started walking toward me.
Slow. Controlled. Like he had all the time in the world.
Marco stepped forward, blocking him. “This is private property.”
The stranger didn’t even blink. “I’m aware.”
His eyes never left mine.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “What are you doing here?”
He stopped a few feet away — close enough to feel the weight of his presence, far enough to keep me guessing.
“You dropped something last night,” he said.
My stomach dropped. “What?”
He reached into his coat.
Marco’s hand went to his gun.
The stranger lifted a brow, amused, and pulled out… a pen.
A simple black pen.
He held it out to me. “Yours.”
I stared at it. I didn’t recognize it. I hadn’t dropped anything.
He knew that.
He was lying.
But why?
I took the pen anyway, my fingers brushing his. A spark shot up my arm, unwanted, unexpected.
His voice dropped low enough for only me to hear.
“You shouldn’t walk alone at night.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he said. “But not everyone in this city plays fair.”
I hated the way his words made my pulse jump.
I hated even more that he was right.
Before I could respond, he stepped back, eyes lingering on me for one last, unreadable moment.
Then he turned and walked out of the warehouse like he owned it.
Marco muttered a curse. “Who the hell was that?”
I stared at the door long after it closed.
I didn’t know who he was.
But I knew one thing:
He wasn’t done with me.
And I wasn’t sure if that terrified me… or thrilled me.
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ALEXANDRO
I shouldn’t have gone to the Rossi warehouse.
But curiosity is a dangerous thing — and she had become mine.
My men had identified her within hours.
Evelyn Rossi.
The daughter of the man I was preparing to destroy.
I expected someone spoiled. Entitled. Oblivious.
But she wasn’t any of those things.
She was sharp. Suspicious. Brave enough to walk through a warehouse full of criminals without flinching. And when she saw me, she didn’t look afraid.
She looked… intrigued.
That was new.
Most people feared me before I even spoke.
I watched her from across the warehouse, hidden in the shadows. She moved with purpose, but there was tension in her shoulders — the kind that comes from carrying secrets.
My secrets.
When Marco blocked my path, I almost laughed. The man had no idea who he was dealing with. But I wasn’t here to start a war. Not yet.
I was here for her.
And when she looked at me, really looked at me, something shifted.
Recognition?
Curiosity?
Attraction?
Maybe all three.
I handed her the pen — a harmless excuse to get close and felt the spark when our fingers touched.
She felt it too.
Her eyes gave her away.
But the moment I stepped outside, the spark turned to steel.
Because now I knew exactly who she was.
And she had no idea who I was.
Not yet.
But she would.
Soon.
Because the war between our families was coming.
And she was standing right in the center of it.
- Writer
