contract Bonds

chapter 9

ANGELA

The lights from the rooftop skylight above bathed everything in a warm, golden hue. My heels clicked against the polished marble floor as Zara and I stepped into the event space for Fashion Forward, the most anticipated industry gathering of the season. Cameras flashed in rapid succession, photographers scrambling to capture the glitterati of the fashion world.

Zara tugged me in by the arm, breathless with excitement. “Angela Parker, walking into the event of the season! Do you feel it?”

“The attention or the humidity?” I deadpanned.

Zara leaned close. “I still can’t believe you agreed to come,” she said, nudging me playfully with her elbow.

“You know i couldn't turn down Ava's invitation,” I replied, hiding a smirk. “And you bribed me with sushi.”

She laughed, slipping her arm through mine. “Guilty. But it’s worth it. Look at this crowd, Angie. This is exactly where FireStitch needs to be seen.”

I nodded, scanning the crowd. Models, designers, editors, buyers. The place was a minefield of high expectations and silent judgment. But I didn’t feel nervous. I felt… electric.

Maybe it was the energy of the night. Maybe it was the silk of my dress, a dark forest green satin piece that I had designed months ago but never worn. It hugged my curves, gliding over the dip of my waist and hips, caressing every inch like it had been made for seduction itself. The sweetheart neckline revealed just enough cleavage to leave mouths dry and eyes trailing. A thigh-high slit kissed my leg with every step.

My hair was up, a few dark strands deliberately loose to frame my face. I’d kept my makeup bold—deep red lips, a subtle smoky eye. Fierce, not sweet. Tonight wasn’t about shrinking.

Tonight, I wanted to be seen.

We moved through the room, stopping to greet a few acquaintances. I smiled, exchanged pleasantries, but my mind was half-elsewhere. Something stirred in the air. A strange pull. Like gravity had shifted and was now dragging me toward something—or someone.

Zara noticed. “You okay?”

I gave her a distracted nod. “Yeah. Just… weird feeling.”

And then I saw him.

Across the room, near the back entrance, tall and sharp and completely magnetic in a black tailored suit, stood the man from the bar. The stranger with the storm in his eyes and the mouth I hadn’t stopped thinking about.

Jaden.

I froze, heart leaping into my throat. His eyes were scanning the room, prowling like a wolf in a velvet cage. Searching. And then—

His gaze found mine.

Our eyes locked.

The breath rushed out of me like I’d been punched.

Heat surged through me so fast I nearly staggered. My core pulsed with sudden awareness, my thighs tightening around a warm, wet, familiar ache. God. That same heat. That same pull. The one that had started the moment I collided with him at the bar a month ago. And it hadn’t gone away since.

I saw it in his eyes too—the recognition. The burn.

He took a step.

Zara followed my gaze and blinked. “Whoa. That guy is definitely staring at you like you’re dessert.”

I didn’t answer. My tongue felt like it had dried out completely, but the rest of me was anything but dry.

Another step. He was coming toward me, his gaze never wavering. A man on a mission.

My pulse throbbed.

And then the lights dimmed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice called over the speakers, “please take your seats. The show is about to begin.”

I blinked, and just like that, he was swallowed by the movement of bodies rushing toward the runway deck. Ushers began directing us, and the moment—our moment—was yanked out from under me.

Zara grabbed my hand. “Come on, we’re sitting front row. Let’s go before someone steals our seats.”

I followed her, but my head was still spinning. I felt him even without seeing him. Like a hum under my skin. Like a flame that refused to go out.

We took our seats just as the music started, the first model strutting down the glossy runway in an oversized trench coat and metallic boots. Applause rippled through the audience.

But I barely saw any of it.

My body was still reacting to him.

Jaden.

God, even his name made my toes curl. He looked like he belonged in a dark corner office where he could dominate meetings—or women. And judging by the raw intensity in his stare, I was the only thing he’d wanted to dominate tonight.

My n*****s tightened against the silk of my dress, a wave of arousal pulsing through me as I remembered the bar—how close he’d stood, how his voice had brushed my skin like silk.

I clenched my thighs again, trying to focus.

The show was breathtaking. Zara leaned in more than once to whisper commentary, and I responded when I could, but my gaze kept drifting.

I spotted him once—standing off to the side, behind a velvet rope, watching. Not the show. Me.

Our eyes met again.

The tension burned hotter this time.

No words. Just looks.

And I felt it—he wanted me. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his gaze dipped to my lips, to my chest, then back up with fire in his eyes.

And I wanted him just as badly.

I forced myself to face forward again, sucking in a slow breath.

Zara leaned in again. “What is happening with you?”

“Nothing,” I murmured.

Yes, nothing, the sacarstic voice in my head whispered.

"Shut up," i tell it.

The show continued, but now I couldn’t sit still. My skin buzzed with energy. Nerves. I felt like prey being watched by a predator, and I loved it.

Then, recognition flashed in my brain.

Ava.

The woman from the boutique.

She stood just a few seats away from Jaden, chatting, occasionally glancing over. The woman who had invited me.

So he came with her? My mind spun. Were they—? No, no. There was no romantic energy there. At least not from his side. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I walked in.

Still, the realization made my stomach twist and heat rise to my cheeks.

Zara leaned down and grabbed her phone. A moment later, I felt a buzz in my purse. Group chat. I opened it discreetly:

Zara: Girls. Angela is acting WEIRD.

Janet: Define weird.

Emma: LMAO is it a man?

Zara: I think she’s being hunted. Or she’s hunting. She keeps making this face like she’s about to combust.

Emma: 👀

Janet: Send us a pic.

Zara: I’ll try. She’s literally glowing and sweating and smiling and panicking all at once.

I rolled my eyes and turned slightly, shooting Zara a subtle glare.

She held her hands up innocently, whispering, “Busted.”

But she was right.

The moment the final walk happened and the applause filled the air, I rose, pretending to scan for Zara’s assistant. But really, I was looking for him.

And just like that, our eyes found each other again across the crowd.

His lips curved into the faintest smirk.

That warm wetness between my legs returned, pulsing with anticipation.

He began moving.

Toward me.

And I didn’t run.

I stayed right there, waiting.

Wanting.

Burning.

Because I was ready to see where this fire would lead.