The Price of Love

Unfinished Threads

Annie tried to shake off the strange feeling lingering from her encounter with the cold businessman. She had work to do, dreams to chase-whatever his world was, it wasn't hers.

But that didn't stop his piercing gaze from replaying in her mind.

"Earth to Annie!" Mrs. Langley's voice jolted her back to reality. The older woman was giving her a pointed look. "Stop daydreaming. We have more orders to finish before closing."

"Right, sorry," Annie mumbled, hurrying to the back.

As she worked, she couldn't help but wonder-what was the real story between him and Victoria Hayes? If they had broken up, why did she still act like they were together? And more importantly, why did she care?

She forced herself to focus on sewing, letting the rhythmic hum of the machine drown out her thoughts.

Later That Night

Annie pulled her worn-out coat tighter around her as she stepped out of the boutique, the cold New York air biting against her skin. The streets were alive with glowing lights and honking taxis, but all she could think about was getting home to her tiny apartment.

She had barely taken a few steps when a sleek black car, the same one from earlier, pulled up beside her. The window rolled down, and she froze.

It was him.

His face was just as unreadable as before, but now, without the glamorous boutique setting, something about him seemed even more intimidating.

"You work here late?" His voice was deep, controlled.

Annie blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... yes?"

He studied her for a moment, then glanced at the dimly lit street behind her. "It's not safe for a woman to walk alone at this hour."

She crossed her arms. "I've been doing it for years."

His expression didn't change. "That doesn't make it any safer."

Annie frowned, not sure why he suddenly cared. "Why do you-"

Get in," he interrupted, gesturing toward the car door.

She let out a short laugh. "Excuse me?"

"I'll give you a ride home."

Annie hesitated. This man was practically a stranger, and he didn't exactly radiate warmth. But something about the way he said it-firm, certain-made it hard to argue.

Against her better judgment, she opened the door and slid into the car.

As the driver pulled into the traffic, Annie felt the weight of silence between them. She stole a glance at him. He was staring out the window, his jaw clenched, as if he regretted offering her the ride in the first place.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked.

He didn't look at her. "I don't know."

That answer should have unsettled her. Instead, it made her heart beat just a little faster.

Who exactly was this man?

And why did she feel like this was only the beginning?