CHAPTER ONE — That Night
1322 Words
It was the rain that started it all.
Not the soft, romantic kind that plays in movies. No — this rain was heavy, loud, and annoying. It soaked Willow’s thin dress in seconds as she rushed up the stairs of the hotel, hugging her tray of drinks like her life depended on it.
She was late. Again. Mia had bailed, and her boss had thrown her into the biggest event of the year — the Ashford Industries Gala. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. But now she was, dripping, clumsy, and holding a tray that rattled like her nerves.
“Just one night,” she whispered. “Just smile and survive.”
The ballroom was glowing when she stepped in. Lights everywhere. Gold on every wall. People so beautiful they looked like they belonged in magazines. Willow felt invisible — and honestly, she liked it that way.
Until she tripped.
Until the tray wobbled.
Until a glass of red wine flew straight out of her hand… and landed on a white button-up.
Time froze.
She looked up slowly — and almost choked on air.
Kian Ashford.
She recognized him from the internet. Cold-eyed, billionaire CEO. Probably allergic to smiles. And currently dripping in wine because of her.
Willow blinked, horrified. “I—I’m so sorry, I—”
He raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. His sharp jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t yell. Instead, he stared at her with the coldest, calmest voice she’d ever heard:
“Do you always serve drinks this violently?”
She almost dropped the rest of her tray.
The people around them chuckled awkwardly, and Willow’s face flushed so hard it burned. “I swear I didn’t mean to—someone bumped me and—”
“Relax,” he muttered, taking a napkin from a passing waiter. “It’s just a shirt.”
She stared at him, blinking fast. “You’re… not mad?”
He glanced at her, amused. “Should I be?”
And then he walked off like it didn’t matter.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about it — or him.
⸻
Later that night, the ballroom was starting to clear. Willow had taken off her heels and snuck out to the hotel rooftop for a few minutes of peace.
She didn’t expect him to find her there.
“You’re braver than you look,” a deep voice said behind her.
She jumped and turned. Kian.
“Why?” she asked, brushing hair from her face.
“You embarrassed yourself in front of a hundred people and didn’t cry once.”
She snorted. “Oh, I cried. Just in the bathroom.”
He smiled — actually smiled — and came to stand beside her. “You work here?”
“Just part-time,” she said. “Rent’s expensive. Dreams don’t pay bills.”
“You have dreams?”
She looked up at him. The way his eyes sparkled under the city lights made her chest feel weird.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “But none of them involve spilling wine on billionaires.”
He chuckled. “That might be my favorite part of the night.”
She laughed too, nervously. “Wow. You must’ve had a really boring night then.”
He stared at her for a second. Not in a creepy way. In a way that made her feel… seen.
“You talk to me like I’m just some guy,” he said.
“You are just some guy.”
“You know who I am.”
“Yeah. And I also know I just ruined your shirt and didn’t get fired. So technically, I’m winning.”
That made him laugh again. His real smile wasn’t cold at all. It was… warm. Handsome. Almost boyish.
Then the smile faded slowly, and he stepped a little closer.
Willow’s breath caught in her throat.
“You’re not scared of me,” he said softly.
“I think I am. I’m just too tired to act like it.”
He reached up and brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin tingled under his touch.
“Kian,” she whispered. She didn’t know why.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, warm, full of something she couldn’t name. His lips moved against hers like he wasn’t just attracted — he felt something.
Willow gasped when he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, his hand resting on her waist like he was holding onto something fragile.
She didn’t stop him.
She didn’t want to.
⸻
They stumbled into his penthouse suite thirty minutes later.
Her breath was shaky. His hands were warm. He whispered her name like it was something soft. Willow had never felt this kind of electricity before. She wasn’t the type of girl men chased. She was the type of girl who stayed up late studying, working two jobs, and dreaming about a better life.
But tonight… she didn’t feel ordinary.
She felt wanted.
His lips were on her neck, then her shoulder, then everywhere. He took his time, like she was something to be unwrapped carefully. She let herself melt under his touch, her fingers trembling as they ran over his chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked between kisses.
She nodded, breathless. “Yeah… just nervous.”
He slowed down. “We don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
And she did.
They made love like it meant something. Like she wasn’t just a random girl. Like he wasn’t just some rich guy with a lonely heart. It was gentle, but intense — like they were both trying to forget the world for one night.
When it was over, they lay in silence, hearts still pounding.
Willow felt like she was floating.
He had held her like she mattered.
She closed her eyes, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just a one-night thing.
⸻
But morning came too fast.
Willow woke up to an empty bed.
The sunlight leaked through tall windows, and the space beside her was cold. She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around her. Her heart was still fluttering from the night before.
Maybe he went to get coffee. Or breakfast.
She got dressed quietly, brushing her fingers through her hair, still smiling a little to herself.
But when she walked out into the living room, she froze.
Kian was there.
In a full suit.
On the phone.
His voice was low and sharp: “I don’t care what he says. No one gets that close to me without a reason.”
Willow took a shaky step forward. “Kian?”
He looked up.
And the cold in his eyes hit her like ice.
“Oh,” he said flatly. “You’re still here.”
Her stomach dropped. “Yeah… I thought maybe we could talk—”
“Don’t bother,” he said, cutting her off. “I know what last night was.”
“What?”
He stood up slowly. “Someone planted you, didn’t they? To get close to me? What was it — blackmail? Money? You’re not the first to try it.”
Her throat tightened. “Are you serious right now?”
“I should’ve seen it earlier. You played your part well. Helpless. Sweet. Very believable.”
“I didn’t play anything!” she said, her voice shaking. “Last night was real to me!”
He scoffed, like she’d told a joke. “Don’t lie, Willow.”
She blinked. “I’m not lying!”
“You can show yourself out,” he said, walking toward the window. “You got what you came for.”
She stared at him, chest aching. “Kian… I didn’t want anything. Just you.”
But he didn’t say anything.
Didn’t even look at her.
Willow turned and walked to the door, her eyes burning.
She didn’t cry until the elevator doors closed.
- Writer
