Episode 3:crossing paths
354 Words
Shaniel was running late. The client meeting had dragged on longer than expected, and her heels clicked against the polished marble floor as she hurried to the subway. She hated being behind schedule, but she prided herself on handling everything alone no one telling her what to do, no shortcuts, no excuses.
And then she saw him.
Adrian Blackwood.
He was leaning against the subway railing, eyes scanning the arriving crowd with that same unnerving precision. The man seemed unreal calm, controlled, yet magnetic enough to make every head in the station turn. He looked like he owned the city, and maybe he did.
Shaniel froze, her bag slipping slightly from her shoulder. She forced herself to move, weaving through commuters, heart pounding.
“You’re hard to avoid,” he called out, voice smooth and low.
Her pulse spiked. She wanted to glare, to tell him she wasn’t interested, but something in his presence made words fail her.
“I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “I’m just… late.”
He smirked, that faint, dangerous curve of his lips that made her pulse skip again. “Funny how fate keeps putting us in the same place. Or maybe it’s not fate at all.”
Shaniel tightened her grip on her bag, scanning the crowd. Something about him unsettled her not fear, exactly, but alertness. Her instincts screamed caution. This man was powerful, unpredictable, and too sharp to be ignored.
“I have work,” she said firmly, stepping toward the train doors. Independence wasn’t just a trait it was survival.
He didn’t follow. He just watched, dark eyes tracking her every move, as if memorizing her. And then, just as the train doors began to close, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her breathless, aware of a strange, magnetic pull she couldn’t explain.
Shaniel pressed her forehead against the glass, trying to steady herself. Her life was orderly, structured until Adrian Blackwood entered it. And now, she realized, the collision at the gala wasn’t a mistake.
Somewhere in the city, someone was waiting. And that someone wasn’t him… yet.
- Writer
