Claiming back his missing wife

Alysha Jarl sat in the dimly lit hotel room, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her silk dress. The muted glow from the lamp cast long shadows on the walls, heightening the tension that knotted in her chest. Each ticking second felt heavier than the last as she waited, her pulse racing beneath her skin. The door creaked open, and the unmistakable scent of whiskey filled the air before the man even stumbled inside. Alysha’s heart skipped a beat. His entrance was unsteady, his silhouette blurred in the haze of alcohol. She inhaled sharply, her body stiffening as his piercing blue eyes—though unfocused—locked onto her. Blond hair fell messily over his forehead, but even in his disheveled state, there was something raw, magnetic about him. He staggered toward her, a slow, unsteady gait that made her grip the arm of the chair. Alysha's chest tightened, torn between the instinct to flee and the strange pull she felt toward him. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his breath heavy with alcohol. "I wish... I wish I could be less drunk... to see you properly," he mumbled, his voice low, rough, yet disturbingly intimate. His words, slurred and thick with intoxication, sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Alysha’s fingers flexed, her palms suddenly clammy as she watched him draw closer, the air between them growing heavier. His hand brushed her arm—carelessly, but enough to spark a warmth in her skin that spread like wildfire. She swallowed hard, her breath catching. His touch was almost too much and not enough at the same time. He hovered near her, the scent of whiskey and sweat strong, his half-lidded gaze struggling to focus. There was no gentleness in his approach, just raw desire, tempered by his drunkenness. Alysha's pulse thundered in her ears. She could barely breathe as he leaned in closer, his husky voice whispering against her skin, sending her heart racing in ways she hadn’t expected. As the man stepped fully into the light, Alysha's breath caught in her throat. The dim hotel room seemed to shimmer around him, her apprehension dissolving into a wild storm of emotions she couldn’t quite name. He was older than she had imagined, yet there was an almost ethereal quality to him, as if he had walked out of one of the f*******n tales she had secretly indulged in as a child. The light caressed his face, revealing features both rugged and refined. His piercing blue eyes, though clouded with the dullness of intoxication, still sparkled, cutting through the shadows like shards of ice. They lingered on her, tracing every curve of her face, every delicate feature, and Alysha felt her chest tighten under his gaze. His tousled blond hair framed his face like a halo, adding a surreal, princely quality to his presence, while the faint shimmer of a diamond earring caught the dim glow, twinkling like a star. Alysha could feel his gaze settle on her with an intensity that made the room suddenly feel too small. Her pulse quickened, the air between them thickening. His lips curved into a smile, slow and crooked, but enough to send heat rushing through her veins. That smile—it was intoxicating in itself, disarming her completely, forcing the breath from her lungs. Her heart pounded louder with each passing second. His eyes, slightly unfocused but still sharp enough to notice her every detail, latched onto her vibrant hair. "Ginger," he muttered, the word slipping through his lips like a private thought. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of her hair between his fingers, and Alysha felt the burn of his touch, her skin alive beneath his hand. She shivered, her body betraying her, wanting more of his closeness despite the alcohol on his breath. The weight of the world outside faded as his fingers drifted down, tracing the side of her face. His thumb grazed her cheek with a touch that was rough yet tender, and Alysha felt a warmth bloom within her, melting her resistance. Her unique bluish-gray eyes locked with his, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though time had stopped. "I’m captivated," he whispered, his voice a husky murmur that sent tremors down her spine. His eyes, though glazed, held a sincerity that startled her, and for a heartbeat, the intoxication faded into the background. Alysha’s lips parted, but no words came—there was nothing she could say to match the weight of the moment, of his presence. His hand lingered at her face, his touch light yet electrifying. As his thumb grazed her bottom lip, her heart leapt into her throat. Everything around them seemed to blur—the flickering shadows, the muffled sounds of the city outside—as if the room had shrunk to just the two of them. Alysha swallowed hard, her breath trembling as she allowed herself to sink deeper into the overwhelming pull of this man who seemed to see right through her.