WRAPPED

THE ENCOUNTER

The bell above the entrance of Page & Parchment chimed, a small, pleasant sound swallowed almost instantly by the quiet rustle of paper and soft jazz playing in the background.

Elliot stood near the back corner, leaning against a display case with the casual grace of someone who knew he was being watched. He didn’t mind it. In fact, he relied on it. The white button-down shirt he wore was impeccably tailored, rolled up at the sleeves just enough to look effortless. He adjusted his stance, allowing the warm overhead lighting to catch his bright blue eyes as he offered a brief, polite smile to a passing barista.

To the rest of the world, Elliot was the ideal picture of modern charm: warm, approachable, and devastatingly handsome. But beneath that polished surface, his mind operated like a clockwork engine, calculating moves three steps ahead.

He was hunting.

He scanned the narrow aisles between the high wooden shelves, dismissing candidate after candidate. Too distracted. Too cynical. Too aware of themselves. He needed someone specific—someone who craved validation, someone whose defenses were so fragile that a few choice words would shatter them completely.

And then he saw her.

She was tucked away in the fantasy and mythology section, half-hidden behind a rolling ladder. Her name was Lily Roberts. She wore an oversized knit sweater that swallowed her frame, and her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if trying to minimize her presence in the room. She held a heavy hardback with both hands, her eyes tracing the line of text repeatedly without actually turning the page.

Elliot noted the subtle signs immediately: the nervous way her thumb tapped against the book cover, the faint crease between her brows, the hesitation every time someone walked past her aisle.

Perfect.

He closed the book he was holding, slid it neatly back into place, and began his approach. He didn't rush. He moved with a relaxed, confident stride, stopping just a few feet away from her in the same aisle, pretending to browse the spine of a vintage leather-bound anthology.

"If you're deciding on that one, I'd suggest taking the risk," Elliot said, his voice smooth, warm, and low enough to feel intimate without being intrusive.

Lilly flinched slightly, startled. She looked up, her eyes wide as she caught sight of him. For a fraction of a second, her gaze locked onto his—his striking blue eyes, the sharp jawline, and the easy, friendly smile that felt almost too warm for a room full of strangers.

"Oh," she murmured, clutching the book tighter against her chest. "I... I wasn't sure. I was just looking."

"The author has a habit of hiding the best twists right under your nose," Elliot said, stepping an inch closer—just close enough to enter her personal space, but keeping his posture completely unthreatening. He tilted his head, giving her a look of earnest curiosity. "I'm Elliot, by the way."

"Lilly," she said quietly, looking down at her shoes for a beat before offering a small, shy smile. "I'm Lilly."

"It's nice to meet you, Lilly," he said, saying her name slowly, as if savoring it. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

"Just lost in thought, I guess," she replied, rubbing her wrist nervously. "I don't usually pick up things like this. It felt a bit... ambitious."

Elliot’s smile broadened, warm and encouraging, though behind his eyes, the cold calculation clicked into place. Hooked.

"There's nothing wrong with a little ambition," Elliot said smoothly, leaning his shoulder against the bookshelf. "In fact, I think it suits you."

Lilly flushed, a soft pink rising to her cheeks as she shifted her weight. To Elliot, she was the quintessential victim: modest, self-conscious, and entirely unaware of the danger standing right in front of her.

What Elliot didn't notice—what no one could have noticed—was the brief, imperceptible flicker in the depth of Lilly's eyes as she looked at him. A quiet, hidden pulse beneath her skin, assessing his height, his posture, the precise cadence of his voice.

She gripped the book a little tighter, her smile growing just a fraction wider.

"Maybe you're right," Lilly said softly. "Sometimes, the best stories are the ones where you don't see what's coming."