Chapter 3: The Rooftop Stranger
1281 Words
I stepped out of the crowded gala hall and onto the rooftop, needing a moment to breathe.
The city stretched out before me towers glowing, streets alive, the air cool against my skin. Up here, everything felt lighter. Calmer.
Alia was off in the corner, still snapping photos, whispering to herself, “Best night ever,” like a broken record.
But this part of the party was different. Smaller. Quieter. The music was low, the people older, dressed in tailored suits and expensive smiles. The kind of crowd that didn’t need to show off they already owned everything.
I walked slowly toward the bar, trying to blend in. I could feel a few people watching me. I didn’t look like them, and I knew it.
“Rough night?” the bartender asked, sliding a shot glass toward me.
I gave him a small, awkward smile. “You have no idea.”
Then came a voice smooth, calm, and deeper than it had any right to be.
“You look out of place.”
I turned.
A man stood a few feet away, leaning against the glass railing like he’d been carved out of the night itself. His suit was sharp, dark like the sky, and his eyes held something I couldn’t read.
“That’s because I am,” I said honestly.
He smiled, a slow one. Like he wasn’t used to honesty.
“Refreshing,” he said. “Most people here would lie before admitting that.”
I tried to keep my cool. “And you… look like you belong everywhere.”
“I should,” he said, looking out over the skyline. “I designed the place.”
I stared at him for a second, confused—then it hit me.
Whitestone Towers.
Oh my God.
“You’re Damien Roth,” I blurted.
He glanced at me. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me.”
“Well,” I said, my voice suddenly dry, “thanks for the view.”
“Are you really up here for the view?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you hiding?”
The words sank a little too deep. I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t lie.
He studied me like he already knew the truth.
“What’s your name?”
“Selena.”
He smiled again. “Pretty name.”
And then
“Selena!”
Cassie’s voice cut through everything like a sharp knife. She appeared out of nowhere, moving fast, a flash of red silk and too much perfume.
“There you are,” she said sweetly, wrapping her hand around my arm. Her tone was calm, but I could feel the pressure in her grip.
Then she turned her full charm on Damien. “Damien Roth,” she said like she already knew him. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”
He nodded politely. “Cassandra Monroe.”
“Guilty,” she laughed. “I see you’ve met my little sister.”
There was a pause. Damien looked between us, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Sister?” he said.
“Unfortunately,” Cassie replied with a fake laugh. “She’s just an intern. Still trying to figure out her path.”
I said nothing. My chest felt tight.
Before I could defend myself, Damien spoke up.
“She seemed perfectly composed to me.”
Cassie’s smile froze for a split second.
“She’s not really in this world,” she said again. “She’s still learning.”
Damien turned to her, then back to me. “I like people who don’t belong. They usually see things the rest of us miss.”
And just like that, he looked at me one last time and walked away back into the crowd, leaving silence in his wake.
Cassie’s grip dropped.
Her smile vanished.
She turned to me slowly. Her eyes weren’t amused anymore.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered sharply.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, barely able to speak.
She laughed once cold and bitter. “That’s your thing, isn’t it? Play innocent. Look helpless. Let people fall all over you.”
“I didn’t ask for anything,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t ask? Please. That dress? You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“You picked the dress,” I said.
Her mouth opened slightly, caught off guard. But she recovered fast.
“Just don’t let this go to your head, Selena. Damien Roth isn’t interested in girls like you.”
I stared at her, heart pounding.
“I know,” I said quietly.
But deep down… something about last night lingered. Not love. Not even romance. Just… something. A spark. A pull I couldn’t explain.
Cassie walked away without another word, her perfume hanging in the air like smoke.
The next morning....
The sun was too bright.
My head pounded. My eyes felt heavy. I barely made it through half my coffee before my phone exploded with notifications.
Headlines. Tweets. Messages.
“Billionaire Damien Roth spotted with mystery woman at Whitestone Gala.”
“Who is the brunette stealing Cassandra Monroe’s spotlight?”
I stared at the photo. Me, standing next to Damien Roth. I looked so out of place. Like I’d wandered into someone else’s life.
Then the door to my bedroom burst open.
Cassie.
Still in last night’s makeup, hair a mess, phone in hand like it was a weapon.
“Selena. What. The. Hell.”
I stood up, blanket falling off me. “It’s not what it looks like!”
“You made the blogs,” she said. “with Damien Roth.”
“It wasn’t planned,” I said quickly. “Some guy cornered me and Damien just… helped.”
“Oh, so you played the damsel again,” she snapped. “Of course.”
“That’s not fair”
“You didn’t ask for it? That dress barely covered you.”
“You chose it,” I said, glaring.
She paused. Her lips tightened. Then she stepped back and shook her head.
“Just remember who you are. Damien Roth isn’t interested in girls like you.”
She stormed out, leaving nothing but silence behind her.
Later that morning at Roth Enterprise...
I held my coffee tight as I walked through the glass lobby.
Everyone was staring.
I heard the whispers before I even reached the elevator.
“That’s her.”
“The intern with Roth.”
“Bet she won’t be an intern for long.”
I kept walking, heart in my throat.
The elevator doors closed. I stood alone inside, trying to breathe. Trying to stay calm. Trying to remind myself this meant nothing.
But my hands were shaking.
The elevator dinged on my floor. I stepped out slowly.
And then I saw him.
Damien Roth.
Leaning casually against the front desk, in a dark suit, looking calm and collected like last night had meant nothing to him.
But when he looked up… he saw me.
And this time, he didn’t look away.
He stood straight, walked toward me with purpose.
People were watching.
Every step he took felt like thunder in my chest.
Then he stopped in front of me.
“Miss Monroe,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “you’re needed in my office.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond.
He just turned and walked away.
And I stood there, frozen, eyes wide, as every single person in that room looked at me like my life had just changed.
Because it had.
I knew it in my bones.
Something had started.
And I wasn’t sure if I should run from it or chase it.
- Writer
