Chapter 2 ' A NIGHT TO REMEMBER
528 Words
The rain had stopped by the time Eleanor stepped into the dimly lit bookstore, but her heart was still racing from her unexpected encounter with Adrian Carter. She stole a glance through the window, watching as he disappeared into the city’s misty night, his silhouette vanishing beneath the glow of streetlamps.
“Eleanor, cara, you’re late,” a familiar voice called.
She turned to see Sophia Moretti, her best friend, standing by a stack of books, her wild curls bouncing as she gestured dramatically.
“You won’t believe what just happened,” Eleanor murmured, her fingers still clutching her umbrella as if it held the memory of Adrian’s touch.
Sophia’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Did you finally find a man who appreciates your obsession with tragic love stories?”
Eleanor rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Not just any man. Adrian Carter.”
Sophia gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “The Adrian Carter? The brooding genius who writes about love but refuses to believe in it?”
“The very same,” Eleanor whispered. “And he—he caught my umbrella.”
Sophia gave her a pointed look. “That’s it? Tell me he at least asked you to run away with him to a villa in Tuscany.”
Eleanor laughed. “No, but…” Her voice trailed off as she recalled the way his eyes had lingered on her, the slight hesitation in his voice, as if he had wanted to say more.
Sophia smirked. “You should’ve invited him to the gala tonight.”
Eleanor groaned. The gallery’s annual charity gala. A night of expensive wine, whispered conversations, and men in tailored suits trying too hard to impress her. She had been dreading it all week.
“I’d rather curl up with a book,” she said.
“Or,” Sophia said mischievously, “you could accidentally run into a certain author again.”
Eleanor shook her head, knowing Sophia wouldn’t let it go.
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Later that evening, Eleanor stood before her bedroom mirror, adjusting the deep-red silk gown that clung to her curves. The gala was being held at the historic Villa Rosetta, a stunning estate overlooking the Adige River.
As she made her way through the glittering ballroom, she tried not to think about Adrian—until she saw him.
He was there.
Dressed in a sleek black suit, standing near the balcony, a glass of whiskey in hand. His gaze met hers, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips.
Eleanor’s breath caught. Had Sophia invited him? Or was this fate working in her favor?
She felt the heat of his stare as she approached.
“You clean up well,” he murmured, eyes trailing down her figure.
“So do you,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
He tilted his head. “Would it be too forward if I said I was hoping to see you again?”
Her pulse quickened. “Maybe.”
“Would it be too forward if I said I haven’t stopped thinking about you?”
A rush of heat spread through her body. The room
- Writer
