Adrian stepped out of the boardroom, his stride steady, his expression calm. But deep inside, his thoughts whirled. He’d handled himself well, but interviews were unpredictable. Still, the energy in that room told him something — he had sparked their interest.

The receptionist offered him a polite nod as he passed. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Adrian. We’ll be in touch.”

“Appreciate it,” he replied, his voice smooth but his chest tight with anticipation.

Outside, the sunlight hit

Outside, the sunlight hit him like a promise. For the first time in weeks, he felt as though the ground beneath his feet was steady. He didn’t know who owned the hotel, didn’t care. To him, it was simply a chance at redemption, a chance to rise above the haze of parties and fleeting nights.

What he didn’t see was the sleek black car that pulled into the driveway minutes later.

The door opened, and out stepped Anya. Dressed in casual elegance, sunglasses perched lightly on her nose, she moved with the unbothered grace of someone who knew the world bent for her. She wasn’t here to work — never had been. She visited the hotel when she pleased, sometimes to meet friends, sometimes to lounge in the private suites her family reserved for her.

As Adrian disappeared down the street, Anya swept through the golden doors, her laughter trailing behind her like perfume.

Two worlds brushing close — yet still missing each other.