FATED TO MEET

THE SPEECH SHE DIDN'T WANT TO GIVE

Chapter 2

Lina was soaked, shivering, and wearing a man’s suit jacket when she walked back into the ballroom.

Adrian was right behind her, hair damp, sleeves rolled up. He looked like he’d just committed a crime. Which, technically, he had.

“Ms. Reyes?”

The event coordinator appeared out of nowhere, clipboard in hand, eyes wide. “You’re on in two minutes. We’ve been looking everywhere. Are you— is that—”

Lina glanced down. Adrian’s jacket was twice her size, sleeves covering her hands. She probably looked insane.

“It’s fine,” Lina said quickly. “I’m fine. Five minutes.”

“One minute,” the coordinator corrected. “And your board is at table three asking questions.”

Of course they were.

Lina pressed her fingers to her temples. The rain. The roof. The stranger. For ten minutes on that roof she’d forgotten about the foundation, the donors, the speech she’d rewritten four times and still hated.

Now it was all crashing back.

“Go,” Adrian said quietly beside her. “I’ll disappear before your board sees me.”

She turned to him. He was already stepping back, hands in his pockets again, that same distant look from when she first saw him at the window.

“Wait,” she said before she could stop herself.

He paused.

“Thank you. For… the jacket. And for not laughing at me.”

Adrian’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Didn’t seem laughable.”

Then he was gone, melting into the crowd toward the bar.

Lina didn’t have time to think about it.

“Ms. Reyes, stage left,” the coordinator whispered, already guiding her.

The lights were too bright. The mic was too close. Two hundred faces stared up at her from round tables draped in white. Her board sat in the front row, arms crossed.

She could still feel rain on her skin.

“Lina Reyes, Executive Director of the Reyes Foundation,” the host announced. “In honor of her sister, Elena.”

Applause.

Lina stepped to the podium. Her hands shook. She gripped the edges.

She was supposed to talk about grants. About pediatric research. About the $2.3 million they’d raised this year. She had bullet points in her head.

Instead, she looked out at the windows. Still raining.

“My sister loved stars,” Lina heard herself say.

A beat. The room shifted. This wasn’t the speech.

“She had this theory,” Lina continued. “That the universe leaves breadcrumbs. That if you pay attention, you’ll find your way to where you’re supposed to be. Even on nights with no stars.”

She saw her board frown. She saw donors lean forward.

“Elena died six months ago. And tonight I came here because the invitation said ‘under the stars.’ And I thought… maybe.”

Her voice cracked. She didn’t fix it.

“But it rained. And I got lost. And I was late. And I was about to give up.”

She paused.

She was thinking about a roof. About wind. About a black suit jacket that smelled like cedar.

“But then I remembered what she told me. That breadcrumbs don’t always look like stars. Sometimes they look like a stranger who shares his jacket. Sometimes they look like getting drenched and still showing up.”

Silence. Then someone clapped. Then more.

Lina finished the rest on autopilot — the numbers, the thank yous, the call to donate. When she stepped down, her board was already standing.

“That was not the approved speech,” the board chair murmured as she passed.

“No,” Lina said. “It wasn’t.”

She needed air. She slipped out the side doors, away from the handshakes and photos.

The hallway was quiet. Dim.

And Adrian was there, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting.

He looked up when he saw her. Still no tie. Still no smile. But his eyes did something when they landed on her. Softened.

“You did good up there,” he said.

“You heard that?”

“Walls are thin.”

Lina hugged his jacket tighter around herself. “They’re going to kill me for going off-script.”

“Worth it.”

She studied him. “Why are you still here? I thought you had a one-hour limit.”

“I did.” He shrugged. “Missed my exit.”

Lina laughed. It felt better than it should have.

A phone buzzed. Hers. A text from her assistant: _Donors loved it. Board did not. Call me._

She ignored it.

The storm outside had slowed to a drizzle. Through the glass doors, the city lights looked cleaner.

“You want to get out of here?” Adrian asked. It wasn’t flirting. It was just… a question.

Lina should’ve said no. She had emails. She had a car to deal with. She had a life that didn’t include rooftop escapes with billionaires.

But the night was already ruined.

And for the first time in six months, ruined felt okay.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Adrian held the door open.

And just like that, they walked out into the rain together.