Falling into His Sweet Trap

Chapter 2: Sexy Stranger

~Ava~

Emma, already onto the next conquest, grabbed her drink and wandered off. Meanwhile, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I groaned, stepping outside to answer it.

"Stop messing around in bars," my mother, Lilly, barked the second I picked up. "Come home early and clean yourself up. I’ll take you out for dinner."

“Mom, I heard about Jason,” I rolled my eyes. "Does it have to be an arranged marriage?"

"It’s not the worst thing in the world."

"I could get a job. Make something of myself. I don’t have to get married, you know."

"To do what? Live like a drifter forever?"

I bit my tongue. It’s my mother. It’s my mother. Don’t curse.

"Just meet Jason once," she pressed. "If it doesn’t work out, then fine."

I hesitated.

"You’re not still afraid of Jason, are you?" she added. "He’s a real gentleman now."

I nearly choked.

"Got it," I muttered. "Hanging up now."

I hung up before she could keep going. I could already imagine my future if I went along with this. My mother pushing. Jason pushing. Everyone expecting me to just… go with it.

No way in hell.

Now that the mood was completely being sabotaged, I intended to go home and just go to bed early. After saying goodbye to Emma and some other friends, I slid into the backseat of a cab, sighing and resting my forehead against the cool window. The city lights blurred past, neon streaks against the dark.

Then, out of nowhere, an idea popped into my head.

Impulsive. Reckless.

Perfect.

I turned to the driver. "Take me to the airport."

His eyes flicked to me in the rear-view mirror, but he didn’t question it. Within minutes, we were weaving through traffic, heading straight to my last-minute escape plan.

As soon as I stepped into the airport, my mind cleared.

This was it.

I rushed to the check-in counter and booked the next available ticket to San Francisco.

Running away—that was the solution. Like hell I was marrying some old-fashioned fossil.

My fingers tightened around the boarding pass.

Goodbye, arranged marriage.

Goodbye, Jason Vale.

Hello, mysterious, infuriatingly attractive stranger from the bar.

…

I made my way toward the VIP lounge, feeling lighter with every step.

At the entrance, I grabbed a cup of freshly brewed coffee, inhaling the rich aroma. But just as I stepped inside, my gaze landed on a familiar figure— Sitting there. Casual. Unbothered.

Flipping through a book.

The man from the bar lifted his head.

Our gazes met.

I arched a brow, heat curling in my chest. What were the odds? I doubted I would be running into him. But how lucky I was.

"What a coincidence," I said, my lips curving as I approached.

He had been sitting with one leg crossed over the other, completely at ease, but at my words, he slowly uncrossed them. His sharp eyes flicked over me, cool and unreadable. His voice was smooth, amused. "Quite the coincidence."

I could practically hear the skepticism in his tone.

The airport was massive. Thousands of people passing through, countless flights leaving every hour.

Yet here we were.

The moment he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, my heart did a slow, betraying stutter.

I knew then—I was meant to be here.

This was fate.

Not some boring, prearranged marriage to Jason Vale. Not a life of being controlled, pushed around, and molded into someone else’s idea of acceptable.

No.

This? This was the adventure I needed.

I slid into the seat across from him, fully taking him in now that I had the chance.

The tailored clothes. The smooth, refined way he moved. The way those glasses added just the right amount of sharp to his already striking features.

Sexy. Dangerous. A very welcome distraction.

He studied me in return, tapping a finger idly against the cover of his book. "What are you going to San Francisco for?"

I smiled. "To be with you, of course."

The corner of his lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close.

"Oh?" He tilted his head, voice just as light. "Then this is not a coincidence. It’s premeditated."

I sucked in a breath.

Shit.

That tone. That look. Deadly.

I quickly waved a hand, backtracking. "I’m just joking. I’m visiting a friend."

Mostly true. I did have an old friend in San Francisco—someone I’d lost touch with after I moved abroad. But I could fix that.

I placed my coffee on the side table, feeling more settled. Then, of course, my phone started ringing. I didn’t even need to check the screen. I already knew who it was.

With a sigh, I powered it off.

For a minute, the silence between us stretched, comfortable but heavy.

Then, casually, I asked, "What’s your name?"

The man didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he turned a page in his book, his fingers moving with an easy, practiced precision. Just when I thought he might ignore me completely, he finally spoke.

"You probably don’t wanna know."

That, of course, only made me want to know more.

Subtly, I angled my gaze toward his boarding pass, trying to catch a glimpse of his name. I only managed to make out the first few letters—Ja.

"Jack?" I guessed.

Before he could respond, the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. The man stood, lifting his bag with effortless ease. “Right, Jake.”

…

After boarding, I stepped into the first-class cabin and barely had a moment to settle before I noticed that Jake was seated directly across from me.

He glanced up briefly, acknowledging my presence with the barest nod before returning his attention to whatever he was reading.

…

Two hours into the flight, a flight attendant arrived to adjust the bed. I had turned off my phone, thinking a quiet flight might be nice, but boredom quickly crept in. With nothing better to do, I flicked on the in-flight movie.

Twenty minutes later, the same flight attendant reappeared, quietly pushing open the door. "Miss Callista, hello. The gentleman next door sent you a glass of wine."

I blinked in surprise, glancing at the tall-stemmed glass in her hand. It wasn’t filled to the top—only about a third, just enough for a taste.

The glass was placed on the table beside me. I picked it up, swirling the liquid before taking a slow inhale. Rich, smooth—clearly expensive.

I instructed the flight attendant to send Jake a dessert in return.

As I held the glass between my fingers, I found myself wondering—was he implying something?

Why else would he send me wine?

I took a sip, savoring the taste, and let my gaze drift back to the screen. Some old black-and-white movie was playing—a slow-burn romance. On-screen, the heroine leaned in, whispering sweet nothings to the hero, their tension palpable.

I was still thinking about Jake’s gesture when the flight attendant spoke again.

"The gentleman said that if you need a refill, you can find him. He’s watching a movie too, but try not to be too late—he sleeps early."

On the surface, it was a simple message. But beneath it?

A quiet invitation.

First-class cabins weren’t that private. If something were to happen… Well. It was hard to say whether that would be thrilling or inconvenient.

I tapped my fingers against the rim of the glass. "What time did he say he’d sleep?"

The flight attendant checked before returning with an answer. "Around ten o’clock."

Then, as if it were a casual afterthought, she added, "The gentleman also said he has extra clothes if you need to change."

I blinked. I had boarded empty-handed, yet Jake had noticed that.

Finishing the last sip of wine, I placed the glass down. The night suddenly felt too quiet. Restless. Jake’s cologne still lingered faintly at the tip of my nose.

To be honest, he was probably the most attractive man I’d ever met.

That's it.

As I made up my mind to go over to Jake's cabinet, I slipped out of my own bed and walked straight to the door ahead, knocking.

No response.

I wasn’t one to give up easily, so I knocked again—twice.

Silence.

I glanced at the time. Only past nine.

The sense of punctuality stirred something oddly familiar inside me. A memory surfaced. Back in school, I used to sneak out with friends, only to return home late and find the front door locked. I’d always have to climb over the wall to get back in.

And most of the time I landed on the other side— Jason was standing at his yard -- He was my neighbor at the time.

Waiting. The dead of night, the weight of his stare, the eerie stillness surrounding him.

Even now, just recalling it sent an involuntary chill down my spine.

I turned slightly, about to leave— When the door suddenly opened. Jake stood in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorknob, his robe slightly undone at the collar.

I hesitated, caught off guard. "I thought you wouldn’t open the door," I admitted, covering my surprise. "I figured you were already asleep."

Jake’s lips curved into a slow, unreadable smile. "How could I?" His voice was low, steady. "I’ve been waiting for you."