Chapter 3
1663 Words
Sophia’s POV
Suddenly, the room stopped behaving like a room.
There was no slow realization. No polite glance that drifted away. It was direct. Steady. Curious in a way that felt deliberate instead of accidental.
And devastatingly real.
My heart reacted first, launching into a rhythm that made absolutely no sense for someone who had not even spoken to him yet. My brain, late to the scene, scrambled to catch up and failed spectacularly.
This is Colton Greene.
This is the man from the headlines.
This is the man everyone wants to talk to.
This is the man Emily thinks is a snob.
Why is he looking at me?
I forgot how to breathe properly. Not dramatically. Not in a romantic, movie-like way. Just enough that the next inhale felt slightly delayed, like my lungs had missed a cue.
He was even more striking than the carefully curated images online. Those had captured symmetry and confidence. They hadn’t captured presence.
Up close, even across a crowded ballroom, there was something unguarded in the way he looked at people. Focused. Intent. Like he didn’t scatter his attention easily.
And right now, it was resting on me.
My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass before I even noticed I was holding it too tightly. Emilia was still speaking beside me, still mid-sentence about something I should have been listening to, but her words slid past my ears like water.
Because he hadn’t looked away yet.
A strange warmth crept up my neck, slow and unstoppable. I felt suddenly aware of everything at once. The softness of my dress against my skin. The faint scent of jasmine in the air. The distant swell of violin strings floating above the crowd.
Time stretched thin.
Then someone leaned toward him, speaking urgently into his ear. His attention shifted. The moment fractured.
He looked away.
Just like that, the world snapped back into motion.
Sound returned first. Laughter. Music. Conversation. The steady hum of ambition and money and opportunity. My pulse lagged behind, still trying to figure out what had just happened.
I exhaled slowly, as if I had been holding my breath for far too long without realizing it.
Emily nudged me lightly. “You okay?”
I blinked, dragging my focus back into the present. “Yes,” I said, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
But the truth curled quietly inside me, warm and unsettling.
I had seen him properly for less than ten seconds.
And somehow, impossibly, he already felt like the beginning of something.
The gala unfolded like a living painting around me. Waiters moved like choreography in black and white, silver trays floating through the crowd with champagne flutes that caught the chandelier light and shattered it into tiny stars. Laughter rose and fell in waves. Languages overlapped. Ambition hummed beneath every handshake.
And still, my eyes betrayed me.
Every few seconds, they searched the room without permission. Every time the crowd shifted, I caught glimpses of him. A shoulder turning. The tilt of his head as he listened to someone speak. The brief flash of a smile given to an elderly man who gripped his arm like the conversation meant everything.
I followed his movement the way people follow fireworks. Quietly. Inevitably. Unable to pretend I wasn’t waiting for the next spark.
Emily nudged my arm mid-conversation with a group of investors. “You’ve asked the same question twice,” she murmured.
“What?” I blinked.
She studied my face, eyes soft with understanding. “You’re overwhelmed.”
“I’m not,” I insisted quickly. Too quickly.
She gave me that look. The one that said she knew me better than I knew myself.
“You don’t have to stay glued to me all night,” she said gently. “I know this kind of event can feel… suffocating. Go breathe. Walk around. I have to meet Mr. Laurent anyway. He wants to talk about expanding Cole Dynamics into renewable tech.”
“I’m fine,” I said again, even though part of me had already drifted elsewhere across the ballroom.
She smiled knowingly. “Humor me. I’ll come find you later.”
Before I could argue, she squeezed my hand and disappeared into the ocean of suits and silk.
I stood there for a moment, alone in the middle of a room full of people.
And somehow… relieved.
Because now I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t looking.
I moved through the gala slowly, pretending to admire the architecture, the art installations, the towering floral arrangements that seemed to bloom straight from the marble floors. But the truth pulsed quietly beneath every step.
Where is he?
Every now and then, I saw him again. Surrounded, as always. A constant orbit of people. Executives. Investors. Women who laughed a little too brightly at things he said. Security that hovered just far enough to be subtle, but close enough to remind everyone he was important.
He never looked at me again.
Not once.
And eventually, embarrassment crept in like cold air through an open window.
Maybe he hadn’t even been looking at me earlier.
Maybe I imagined the whole thing.
Maybe he had been looking at someone behind me.
The thought stayed with me until the gala ended and the night folded into silence.
The next morning arrived quietly.
Soft sunlight spilled across the room, warm and gentle against the white hotel curtains. I stretched lazily before noticing the empty bed across from mine.
Emily was already gone.
A folded note rested on the bedside table.
You looked exhausted. I didn’t want to wake you. I’ve stepped out early. Here’s today’s itinerary. Meet me at the conference hall by 10:30. Eat breakfast. Drink water. Be human. — E
I smiled despite myself.
After a long shower that steamed the mirrors and loosened the last threads of sleep from my body, I stood in front of the wardrobe deciding who I wanted to be today.
I chose simplicity.
Cream tailored trousers. A soft blue blouse tucked neatly at the waist. Nude heels that added just enough height without demanding attention. My hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders, brushed until it looked effortless even though it absolutely wasn’t. Minimal makeup. Skin, lashes, soft gloss.
I looked like someone who belonged.
Or at least someone who could pretend convincingly.
I stepped into the hallway, clutching the itinerary.
And froze.
He was there.
Standing alone.
No security. No entourage. No orbit of people.
Just him, scrolling through his phone like any ordinary person in any ordinary corridor.
For a moment, I wondered if I had stepped into the wrong universe.
Emily’s words echoed faintly in my head. Polite, but a snob.
I hesitated.
Then decided to be brave.
“Hi,” I said.
He looked up immediately, surprise flickering across his face before smoothing into polite recognition.
“Hello.”
“I’m Sophia Louis.”
“Colton Greene.”
His voice was calm. Measured. Friendly in a distant kind of way.
We spoke briefly about the summit. The venue. The scale of the event. Safe topics. Neutral territory. He answered every question politely, attentively, like someone who understood how conversations were supposed to work.
My phone buzzed.
Emily.
Are you awake? We need to meet someone important.
Reality returned like a tap on the shoulder.
I smiled. Said goodbye. Walked away.
And the entire rest of the day felt lighter.
I talked to him.
I actually talked to him.
The realization followed me like sunshine.
Halfway down a corridor, I stopped walking.
Because the truth landed suddenly and without warning.
I had a crush on Colton Greene…
The next day, I saw him again.
He wasn’t alone this time.
Perfect. Polished. Surrounded by people hanging onto every word he said.
As he walked toward me, confidence carried by the rhythm of expensive shoes against marble floors, I smiled.
“Hi, Mr. Colton.”
He walked past me.
Without a glance.
Without a pause.
Without a single flicker of recognition.
Heat rushed to my face as the silence stretched.
Laughter from nearby conversations felt louder than before. Sharper. Closer.
Emily was right.
He had only been polite.
And suddenly, the summit felt a little colder than it had the day before.
I stopped looking for him.
Not because I wanted to. Because my pride finally staged a quiet protest and dragged my dignity back into the room.
Three days left in France. Three days before the summit would end and this strange, glittering bubble of a life would disappear. Three days before everything would return to normal, predictable routines and familiar streets back in New York.
And I told myself that was a good thing.
I threw myself into panels, networking sessions, workshops. I smiled more. Talked more. Laughed more. I became the version of myself that didn’t care about a man who had walked past her like she was invisible.
It almost worked.
Until that evening.
The hotel lobby had transformed into something softer for the night’s activities. The lighting dimmed to a golden hush, live piano music floating lazily through the air. Guests drifted in small clusters toward the outdoor terrace where the evening event would take place.
I checked my reflection in the glass doors before stepping outside. Simple black dress. Sleek ponytail. Minimal jewelry. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that tried too hard.
Just enough.
I pushed the doors open and stepped into the corridor that led toward the terrace.
And the world slammed into me.
Literally.
A solid weight collided with my shoulder, knocking the air out of my lungs and sending my balance spiraling. My heel slipped against the polished floor. The world tilted sideways.
A hand caught my arm before gravity could finish the job.
Strong. Firm. Warm.
“I’m so sorry.”
The voice hit first. Low and urgent. Close enough that I felt the vibration of it before my brain processed the words.
Colton…
- Writer
