The Rainy Encounter

Chapter Two

Evan

The air inside the VIP lounge of The Obsidian tastes like old money and unearned privilege.

I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, watching the ice melt against the crystal. Single-malt scotch, neat.

The bartender pours it the second I sit down. Everyone knows my routine.

"You're thirty, Evan." My mother's voice from our phone call an hour ago echoes through my skull.

"The board isn't looking for a brilliant bachelor anymore. They want stability. If you are not married by the end of the year…"

Silence and then

"Marcus inherits the controlling shares of Vendel Holdings."

My grip tightens around the glass until my knuckles pale.

Marriage.

To my family, a wife isn't a person. She's a strategy, a polished accessory meant to reassure shareholders that ruthless Evan Vendel can act human.

Marcus is weak. The kind of man who would destroy the company the second people stopped protecting him. I built Vendel Holdings into what it is now, and none of it matters without an heir.

"Mr. Vendel?"

A soft voice cuts through my thoughts.

I don't look up as a woman slides into the booth beside me. Blonde, expensive and predictable.

Her manicured hand slides onto my thigh as she says in a seductive tone "You look tense tonight, Evan." she murmurs. "Let me help you relax." She leans closer, perfume thick in the air. Normally, I would tolerate it but not tonight. Right now, the thought of her touching me feels unbearable.

I catch her wrist before she can go any higher. My grip isn't brutal, but it is unyielding.

Her breath hitches, her eyes widening in a sudden flash of genuine fear as she realizes the temperature in the booth drops below freezing.

"Out," I say. My voice doesn't rise above a whisper, but it carries the weight of a death sentence.

"Evan, I was just-"

"You have five seconds to remove yourself from my sight before I ensure your family's membership to this club is permanently revoked," I mutter, looking her dead in the eye.

The blood drains from her face. The second I release her wrist, she disappears into the lounge without looking back.

I set the untouched glass of scotch down on the mahogany table. I don't want fake smiles or hidden agendas, I want control and right now, the only thing slipping from my grasp is my company.

My phone vibrates against my chest, 7:00 PM.

A low curse leaves my mouth as the reminder flashes across the screen. Larks Holdings.

The emergency restructuring meeting, their executives flew in from London for tonight's merger signing, and with the board already watching me for weakness, I can't afford mistakes.

If Marcus senses instability, he'll use it against me before Monday morning. I stand, tossing a hundred-dollar bill onto the table. "Call the car," I tell the floor manager as I walk out.

By the time I step outside, the sky completely breaks open.

Rain crashes against the city in violent sheets, lightning splitting through the dark clouds above.

Thomas already waits beside the Maybach with an umbrella raised, "I'll get the door, sir."

"Don't bother." I slide into the vehicle as thunder shakes the street outside. "To the tower," I mutter. "Fast."

The ride passes in a blur of rain and neon lights. My mind keeps circling the same problem.

Every wealthy family in this city has spent years trying to push their daughters toward me like pieces in a corporate transaction, A flawless trap designed by my own blood.

Thirty minutes later, the Maybach stops outside Vendel Holdings Tower.

Thomas reaches for the umbrella again, "I'll walk you in, Mr. Vendel-"

"I said don't bother." I step directly into the freezing rain.

Water immediately soaks through my overcoat and dark suit, but I barely notice. I cross the slick marble plaza toward the revolving doors. I don't run. Then the air shifts. Through the roaring thunder and blinding rain, a voice cuts through the noise. "Mr. Vendel!"

I freeze mid-stride. My jaw tightens. The tower is supposed to be completely empty at this hour, save for the essential night security staff. Nobody should be calling my name on the private plaza.

Before I can turn my head to identify the security breach, a sudden flurry of movement bursts into my peripheral vision. A figure runs straight out of the building's awning, charging directly into the torrential rain. Straight toward me and suddenly, a small, cheap, pathetic excuse for an umbrella is thrust upward between us, I stare down at her.

I stop completely, my chest nearly colliding with her because she steps directly, shamelessly into my personal space. Because of my 6'5" stature, her arms stretch up as far as they can humanly go, her small hands trembling slightly under the weight of the wind catching the flimsy fabric.

She is petite, so small that she barely reaches my chest, and her trench coat is already completely soaked, clinging to her skin.

Slowly, I lower my gaze to the girl invading my personal space. The moment my steel-grey eyes lock onto hers, her breath hitches audibly.

I study her as her hazel eyes widen with fear, but beneath it, there's something raw. She doesn't smell like expensive perfume. She smells like rain, cheap soap, and exhaustion. She barely reaches my chest, her soaked trench coat clinging to her trembling frame, her knuckles white as she tries to keep the umbrella over my head while completely exposing herself to the storm.

An employee, I notice the company lanyard hanging from her coat pocket. The silence between us stretches beneath the roar of the storm. "Do you always throw yourself into traffic for your superiors?" I ask. My voice is dangerously calm. I keep my expression entirely unreadable, letting the natural weight of my authority press down on her tiny frame. "I-no. I just… You don't have an umbrella."

A beat.

I don't move an inch. I don't reach up to take the umbrella from her, nor do I push her away. Something unfamiliar flickers in my chest. Not warmth. Something sharper.

Everyone in my world wants something from me. Yet this girl stands in freezing rain holding a cheap umbrella over my head for no reason at all.

"Sir?" Thomas's voice calls out from the car, his footsteps splashing quickly against the pavement as he realizes someone approaches me.

I don't look back at my driver. I keep my eyes locked on the girl. She's stunning in a way that feels accidental.

"Go inside," I command softly, the order absolute.

Without waiting for her reply, I step out from under her small umbrella, walking back into the freezing rain, and stride toward the heavy glass revolving doors of the tower. I don't look back to see if she follows. I don't need to. Somehow, she lingers in my mind anyway.

As I step into the warm marble lobby, the security guard instantly stands at attention, his face pale with anxiety. Thomas hurries in behind me, shaking the water off his own coat.

I stop at the security desk, my overcoat dripping water onto the polished floor. I don't care about the damp fabric anymore. My mind is suddenly entirely detached from the upcoming Larks meeting, focused on the girl outside.

I turn my head slightly, looking toward the glass doors where she still stands in the rain. "Who is she?" I demand.

The security guard looks out the window before quickly pulling up the building's digital log on his monitor. His fingers fly across the keyboard as he searches the late-night badge swipes for the 12th floor.

"Uh... that's... that's Nahla Givenshi, Mr. Vendel," the guard stammers, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "She's... she's a low-level data assistant in the logistics department on the twelfth floor. She must have come back for her keys, sir. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let her-"

"Nahla Givenshi," I repeat the name under my breath, testing the weight of it.

I turn away from the desk, walking toward the private executive elevator that takes me to the penthouse boardroom. My jaw is set, a dangerous thought suddenly igniting in the dark corners of my mind.

A girl who has no ties to high society. A girl who is stupidly, recklessly selfless enough to run into a storm for a stranger.

"Thomas," I say, stepping into the elevator.

"Yes, Mr. Vendel?"

"Get the head of human resources on the phone the second my meeting with Larks concludes," I order, my voice dropping into a cold purr as the elevator doors begin to slide shut. "I want a complete, unedited background check on Nahla Givenshi on my desk by tomorrow morning. Financial status, family history, debts...everything. I want to know exactly where she comes from."

The elevator starts rising and for the first time tonight, the trap my parents built around me no longer feels impossible to escape.