I Walked Away, Now He's Begging

Chapter 7 Collision Course

Elena

Silver-gray eyes meet mine, framed by dark lashes that would make any woman jealous. The man holding me has the kind of face that belongs on magazine covers—sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips that look dangerously inviting.

What am I even thinking? A man like this wouldn't even notice someone like me normally. We live in completely different worlds.

But looking at this stranger, I understand for the first time what physical attraction actually feels like. Not the comfortable affection I had with Adrian. This is something entirely different. Dangerous.

"Watch where you're going," he says, his voice low and magnetic.

The spell breaks. Right. I'm blocking his path like an i***t.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" I scramble to collect my things, acutely aware that he's bending down to help me.

When his fingers brush mine as he hands over my phone, I catch a hint of his cologne—cedar and tobacco, sophisticated and masculine in a way that makes my pulse quicken.

He straightens to his full height, which is considerable, and gives me one last look that I can't quite read. Then he's walking away with long, confident strides, rejoining another man in an expensive suit.

They seem to be heading toward the first-class lounge.

Well, that's that. We'll probably never see each other again anyway.

Twenty minutes later, I'm shuffling down the airplane aisle, checking seat numbers. 13A, 14A... 15A.

I stop dead.

The mystery man from the terminal is sitting in 15B, my seat neighbor. He's reading something on his tablet, looking perfectly composed while I'm having what can only be described as a minor panic attack.

I clearly saw him with companions earlier. Why would someone like him be sitting alone in economy class?

I slide into my seat, trying to look casual. "Sorry, again. I didn't expect to see you here."

He doesn't look up from his screen. "Never mind."

His voice has the same effect as before—like warm honey with a hint of whiskey. I sneak a glance at his profile. Even more devastating from the side.

Focus, Elena. You're running away to LA to start fresh, remember? Not to ogle random strangers who probably think you're a complete disaster.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened."

I fumble with my seatbelt, but the metal clasp seems determined to be difficult. Click. Nothing. Click. Still nothing.

Come on...

Without warning, warm fingers cover mine. I freeze as the stranger leans across me, his face inches from mine as he works on the stubborn buckle.

God.

Up close, he's even more devastating. I can see the faint stubble along his jaw, catch the clean scent of his shampoo mixing with that intoxicating cologne.

When he shifts slightly, his hand brushes my waist, sending electricity shooting through my entire nervous system.

This is insane. I don't even know his name.

"There."

The single word rumbles from his chest as the seatbelt clicks into place. He settles back in his seat like nothing happened, while I'm sitting here trying to remember how to breathe normally.

Pull yourself together. He was just being helpful.

But the way his eyes lingered on my face for that extra second suggests maybe it wasn't entirely about the seatbelt.

Nina

I'm in the middle of a Blake Capital board meeting when my phone buzzes. A text from my friend Chloe:

Just got on the plane—Look who I spotted!

I open the attachment, expecting some celebrity gossip. Instead, I see Elena —looking absolutely stunning—sitting next to a devastatingly handsome man on what appears to be a commercial flight.

The man is leaning across Elena, their faces inches apart, his hand on her waist. The image is intimate, romantic even.

What the hell?

I study the photo more carefully. Elena looks... different. Confident. Radiant. Like a completely different person from the mousy girl who used to skulk around Blake family events.

But it's the man next to her that catches my attention completely. I know that face. I know it very well.

A smile plays at my lips. Looks like I'm about to have some entertainment!

I glance across the conference table at Adrian, who's scowling at quarterly reports. Without hesitation, I "accidentally" send the photo to the entire meeting group chat.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Adrian! I didn't mean to send that to everyone!"

The effect is immediate. Adrian's head snaps up, his face cycling through confusion, shock, and finally rage as he processes what he's seeing.

"What the hell!" His voice cuts through the meeting chatter. "She's with another man already?!"

He snatches up his phone, studying the image more closely. I watch his expression darken further.

"Wait..." Adrian's voice drops to a deadly whisper. "That's Damien Cross."

The name hangs in the air like a threat. My smile widens.

You want to play in the big leagues, little girl? Game on.