You were born into a wealthy, influential family. A life of luxury, elegance, and strict expectations wrapped around you like a velvet cage. From the moment you could walk in heels and smile on cue, your destiny was mapped out: you were to become the perfect wife for another child of privilege — a union of power, not love. The wedding was grand, the kind little girls dream of. But the marriage turned into a silent horror. Your husband was cruel, possessive, loud behind closed doors and cold in public. He cheated, shouted, even hit — but never let you go. Your golden world rusted, and the walls closed in. Until one day, you chose freedom. You signed the divorce papers with trembling hands and ran — far from the city, from the cameras, from the lies. You fled to a remote corner of the world, hoping to vanish, to breathe again. That’s where he comes in. Caleb Hawthorne had never known the noise of a city skyline. He grew up surrounded by open skies and fields that stretched like forever. His hands were calloused, his voice deep and calm like a steady river. He was 28, ran a large farm alone, raised animals, planted crops, fixed engines, mended fences — everything but his own loneliness. One morning, he posted a job ad. Just a helper for the season. You saw it, and with a small lie and a desperate hope, you claimed it. You arrived with nothing but your suitcase, your secret, and eyes that still carried the shadows of what you’d left behind. And Caleb… he saw right through you. Not with judgment — but with understanding. He knew you didn’t belong to this world. But maybe, just maybe, you could learn. And maybe, just maybe, he could start over, too.

Dennis Mason's name was synonymous with power. He was the feared king of the underworld – cold, ruthless, unstoppable. Anyone who crossed him disappeared without a trace. But once... once there had been a woman in his life who brought something different out of him. She was the only one who could make him laugh. The only one who made him feel human. But their worlds couldn’t coexist. She didn’t want secrets, blood, or guns. One day, without a word, she left. Dennis didn’t ask questions. He didn’t beg. His pride held him back. He believed it was probably for the best. What he didn’t know: she hadn’t left alone. She never told him. She chose to raise their child on her own – far away from everything Dennis stood for. And the little girl grew up – quickly, fiercely, fearlessly. Her mother tried to protect her, to rein her in, but it was no use. The girl wasn’t timid. She wasn’t gentle. She was full of questions, anger, and fire. Just like her father. Even if no one said it aloud. Then one day, on a completely ordinary afternoon, everything changed. The girl – now a teenager – was rushing across the city. Her thoughts were elsewhere when she bumped into someone. A tall man in a suit, flanked by bodyguards. The man stopped in his tracks. And in that single glance, everything shifted. A story that had ended years ago was beginning again – not quietly, not tenderly, but with a fierce, defiant girl who had no idea the man she just snapped at was her father.

He was the city’s most feared mafia man – cold-blooded, ruthless, untouchable. His empire thrived, yet inside he was empty. Long ago, he had been in love, ready to marry the woman of his dreams – until she abandoned him at the altar. From that day, he vowed never to be weak again. Love was dead to him. Women were nothing but fleeting distractions. But the mafia had its own rules. A leader needed an heir, and time was running out. He discreetly announced – under a false name – that he sought a mother for his child. Beautiful women lined up, tempted by wealth and power. None satisfied him. One evening, after another disappointing round of candidates, he retreated to one of his bars. Drink in hand, he watched the crowd. Then an old acquaintance entered – a wealthy businessman – with his stunning girlfriend. In that instant, everything shifted. The mafia boss couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her beauty, grace, and quiet fire mesmerized him. When he spoke to her alone, he wasted no time: how much to marry him? But she wasn’t like the others. Calmly, she refused. He wasn’t used to hearing “no” – but to his surprise, he didn’t explode. Later, as the couple prepared to leave, he saw the businessman’s shallow indifference. She was only a trophy to him. And at that moment, as his heart pounded, one thought echoed in the mafia man’s mind: I will not let this woman go. If anyone is meant to be mine, it’s her.

The carnival lights reflected in her eyes as I led her through the crowded stalls. I had promised her a fun night, and I couldn’t wait to see her laugh. When we reached the claw machine, I smirked. “Watch this,” I said, dropping in the coins. My hands worked the controls with precision, and suddenly, the claw lifted a massive plush shark straight into my hands. “For you,” I said, holding it out. Her laugh hit me like music, and I couldn’t help grinning at how surprised and delighted she looked. We wandered past the Ferris wheel and the food stands, the shark under her arm, her smile lighting up the night. I challenged her to silly games, cheering her on just as loudly as I did when I played. She kept giggling, teasing me, and I realized I couldn’t stop looking at her. The world felt smaller, quieter, as long as we were together. When the Ferris wheel loomed above us, I suggested we ride it. She hesitated, and I offered my hand. The certainty in my grip, I hoped, told her she could trust me. As we rose, the carnival lights twinkling below, I leaned close, whispering something playful that made her giggle. I wanted to freeze that moment—the warmth, the laughter, the closeness. By the time we stepped off, I knew this night was special. It wasn’t just a first date; it was the start of something I wanted to hold onto. As I helped her balance the shark in her arms, I felt it: the spark of something real, something unforgettable, and I knew I wanted more nights like this—with her.

He was the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about. A bad boy through and through—cocky, reckless, and untouchable. At the university, his name was whispered in hallways: fights, parties, girls who swore they’d never fall for him but always did. None of it mattered. His father’s fortune and influence smoothed over every broken rule, every scandal. He lived without fear, without shame, without care. Nothing lasted with him—no relationship, no loyalty, no promise. Until her. Everyone knew her as the loud-mouthed girl who never let anyone walk over her. She wasn’t popular, she wasn’t glamorous, but she had fire in her voice and defiance in her eyes. For years he barely noticed her—until one summer changed everything. She cut her long hair, discovered her own style, and started wearing clothes that revealed the confidence she’d always carried inside. Suddenly, she wasn’t just the nagging girl in the back of the class. She was breathtaking. At first, he only teased her, tossing playful flirts her way, expecting her to blush like every other girl. But she never did. She rolled her eyes, shot back sharper words than his, and dismissed him without hesitation. And the more she pushed him away, the more he wanted her. What began as a game turned into an obsession. He found himself seeking her out, craving the fire in her rejections. She wasn’t afraid of him—she challenged him. And for the first time in his life, someone didn’t bend to his charm or his reputation. One evening, he discovered where she worked—a small local diner. After closing time, while she was cleaning up, he walked in. Not with a smirk or a careless line, but with a determination she had never seen in him before. This time, he wasn’t playing. This time, he was ready to prove he meant every word.

I had always been the type to keep to myself, uninterested in the attention of others. Growing up in an ordinary family, I learned early to take care of myself, working at a local restaurant while juggling university. My long black hair and loose clothing had always been my shield—I didn’t care much about appearances. I was content in my world, unnoticed and free. That summer, though, I decided to change. I chopped off my long hair, bought my first pair of skinny jeans, and discovered a confidence I hadn’t known I had. When the semester began, eyes followed me everywhere, whistles and stares from boys who had never noticed me before. Among them was him—the wealthy, infuriating jerk whose reputation as a playboy preceded him. At first, his flirty comments were annoying, but secretly, I was entertained by the persistence of someone who never settled. I kept my distance, pushing back at every joke and advance. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he could easily win me over. Yet something in his relentless, teasing pursuit intrigued me in a way I hadn’t expected. I found myself noticing him more than I should, smiling when he made an especially bold quip, and secretly enjoying the chase. Then came that evening at the restaurant. I was cleaning up, locking the doors as usual, when the bell rang. Reflexively, I said, “We’re closed,” my voice sharp but automatic. And then I heard it—his voice. That tone I knew instantly. I turned around, rolling my eyes, unaffected, even as he joked about taking the complaint book.

Jeremiah, captain of the school’s football team, was more than just strong and talented—he was a rising star. Big teams were already watching him, and every girl blushed when he walked by. Yet despite his popularity, he never had a girlfriend. Jeremiah took the game too seriously to waste time on shallow flings. His friends, however, kept teasing him: it was time to win over the most admired girl at school—the cheer captain. She was beautiful, brilliant, and sharp-witted, a girl no one could outsmart. The whole campus whispered that if the two of them ever got together, they would rule the school. Their story began at a wild party. By chance, Jeremiah and the girl struck up a conversation. To their surprise, they enjoyed each other’s company. Beneath the surface, both burned with passion and ambition. One talk led to another, and soon they found themselves inseparable—campus royalty, admired by all. But when two strong personalities collide, sparks fly. Neither Jeremiah nor the girl liked to back down and their fiery tempers often led to arguments. Still, their love always proved stronger than any fight. The night before Jeremiah’s most important game, however, their quarrel was worse than usual. The next day, while the entire school cheered for him, the girl sat on the bleachers with a lollipop, refusing to join the celebration. Jeremiah gave the performance of his life, won the match and heard the roar of hundreds of voices—but not hers. That, he couldn’t ignore. Smiling to himself, he walked straight to her, grabbed her hand and pulled her playfully into the storage room. Her heart raced, but there was no fear, Jeremiah had never hurt her, and never would. What he wanted was to teach her a sweet lesson: that love was too powerful to hide behind stubborn pride. In the quiet of that room, his eyes sparkled with mischief. He knew the truth—this girl was the only one strong enough to match him, in every fight, in every victory, and in every heartbeat.

He had always been the kind of boy mothers warned their daughters about. Dark hair that always seemed a little too messy, a smirk that promised trouble, and a reputation built on reckless stunts. Teachers called him a lost cause, cops knew his name too well, and his friends admired the way he always slipped out of consequences. Rules were made to be broken, for him. Then there was her. The quiet girl on campus, always tucked away in the library. She was the kind of girl who never broke a rule in her life, the kind who smiled politely and spoke softly. He first noticed her when he wandered into the library, bored and restless, and decided to “stir things up.” His jokes were too loud, his laughter echoing between the shelves, and she gave him that sharp, disapproving look. Somehow, it only made him grin wider. When the librarian kicked them both out—him for being disruptive, her for “not stopping him”—he couldn’t resist walking beside her. She rolled her eyes at him, muttered that he was an idiot, and yet he saw the faintest smile tugging at her lips. That was enough. From that day on, he started showing up more. Sometimes to tease her, sometimes just to sit nearby, pretending to study while sneaking glances her way. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Beneath his cocky charm, he began revealing glimpses of something real—his jokes turning softer, his tone gentler. Against her better judgment, she started to look forward to his company. He was reckless, infuriating, and yet, when he looked at her, it was as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. But trouble always followed him. One afternoon, in a moment of careless fun, he slipped something small from a store shelf, thinking it harmless. Sirens came too quickly, and before he knew it, he was in handcuffs, the girl standing beside him—caught in the mess just because she had tried to stop him. As the flash of the mugshot camera lit his face, he couldn’t help but smirk.

I had always preferred the quiet corners of the library, the soft rustle of pages, and the calm that came with learning something new. Popularity and loud games held no interest for me; I was content with my books, my studies, and the small, orderly world I had built around myself. I never sought attention, nor did I care for the chaos of high school social life. Then one afternoon, everything changed. A boy from the soccer team approached me, asking for help with his studies. I remember my heart fluttered unexpectedly—he wasn’t like the others. Polite, genuine, and surprisingly humble for someone so admired, he spoke as if I mattered, and in that moment, I found myself wanting to help him. As the days passed, our study sessions became a quiet ritual. I began to notice the small things: the way he listened, the subtle kindness he showed, the way he laughed at things I found funny. Gradually, I found myself enjoying his company more than I expected, appreciating the boy behind the jersey, far from the fame and teasing of his friends. Then came the day he confessed his feelings. My heart ached as I had to refuse him. I wanted to protect him—from gossip, from whispers, from the eyes of the whole school. I hoped he would understand, but I knew I had broken his heart. And in doing so, I blamed myself. Weeks passed. I realized I couldn’t leave things unresolved. One afternoon, during his practice, I walked to the edge of the field. My hands were slightly trembling, and my pulse raced. He looked up, surprised but attentive. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, finally willing to face the consequences of my words before. His gentle smile reassured me, and in that instant, I felt a bridge forming between us again—a fragile connection of trust and understanding. For the first time, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, hearts could mend, and quiet courage could finally reach someone else’s.

He was known in school as one of the star players of the soccer team, but unlike most athletes, he carried himself with humility and kindness. He wasn’t arrogant, and he treated everyone with respect, especially the girls. His friends often teased him, pushing him to find a girlfriend, insisting that someone as popular as him shouldn’t be single. They tried to set him up with the most admired girls in school, yet he declined every offer. His heart had already chosen someone far from the spotlight—a girl who seemed to belong to a different world. Her name was hers alone, but her presence was unforgettable. Long, red hair fell around her shoulders in loose braids, freckles danced across her cheeks, and her striking blue eyes seemed to see everything yet reveal little. She dressed elegantly, simply, and carried herself with a quiet confidence that drew people in without effort. One afternoon, he found her in the library, her nose buried in a book. Nervously, he approached, asking for help with his studies—but really, he wanted a chance to speak with her. Their conversations started small, discussing homework and assignments, but over time, their study sessions became the highlight of his days. Eventually, his feelings could no longer be contained. One day, he asked her gently, his voice hesitant, if she would be his girlfriend. She smiled softly but refused, explaining that she didn’t want the attention or gossip of the entire school on them. Her words stung, and he left, heart heavy, but he understood. Weeks later, during an afternoon practice, she appeared at the edge of the field. Nervously, he approached. She looked down, then whispered an apology for turning him down before. He nodded, accepting it, but something in her expression made his heart race. As she stepped closer, the sunlight catching her hair, he felt a sudden pull, his breath catching in his throat. For the first time, it seemed the space between them might finally close.

Farah had always been seen as different. With her wild curls, sparkling eyes, and mischievous laughter, she fascinated and unsettled people alike. To the villagers, she was “the witch,” living at the forest’s edge among herbs and whispered tales. Women came to her in secret for help, men watched her warily, yet many couldn’t resist her strange allure. Farah embraced freedom above all: sunrise over treetops, the whisper of the wind, the river’s cool touch. She wanted no palaces, no crowns—until the day the prince, heir to the northern kingdom, arrived. He embodied everything she thought she despised: arrogant, proud, and cold, speaking as if she were no more than a servant. Farah found his desperation amusing—a prince, rejected by princesses, begging a witch for help. Playfully, she teased him, laughing when his impatience ruined her spells. Yet over time, she glimpsed the boy beneath the pride: trapped by expectation, fearful of never being enough, living in the shadow of the throne. Her heart softened. She found herself seeking his gaze, noticing how his frustration softened when their eyes met. Even arguments left her smiling; sometimes he seemed so unguarded, so human, she almost forgot he was a prince. One evening, after yet another failed spell, their eyes lingered on each other. In that moment, she no longer saw the arrogant heir—she saw a boy daring to be himself, with her. Farah realized the greatest magic was not in her charms or spells, but in the simple truth that someone had finally seen the real heart behind the mask.

Louis, heir to the northern kingdom, had lived his whole life in the shadow of power and expectation. He was the only son, raised from childhood to one day bear the crown of the greatest realm. To the court, he was supposed to be flawless: hard, decisive, and merciless. Louis tried to meet these demands, but the weight of them slowly twisted him into someone arrogant and cold. He looked down on those around him, treated servants with disdain and nobles with indifference. His power inspired fear, but never love. Princesses rejected his hand one after another—none wished to marry a man whose heart was locked behind walls of stone. One day, when even the king’s patience ran dry, Louis made a desperate choice. He set out beyond the borders of his kingdom to find a witch, hoping magic could secure his future. He believed one enchantment would be enough to win any princess’s heart. To his surprise, the witch was not some dark, brooding figure. She was a young, striking woman with a cascade of curls and bright, mischievous eyes. Playful, witty, and a little cheeky, she was everything Louis had never known. She delighted in his discomfort and wasn’t afraid to mock his arrogance. Louis, furious at first, still needed her aid, and so he stayed. The witch agreed to help, though her spells failed time and again. Louis’s pride and impatience always ruined the charm. Yet through their travels, failed attempts, and endless bickering, something shifted. The young witch began to see that behind Louis’s sharp edges was a boy crushed under lifelong expectations. And Louis, for the first time, saw in her the freedom he had always longed for. One evening, after yet another failed spell, they sat together in silence. Their eyes met across the table, and in that quiet moment no magic was needed. Both understood that something between them had changed forever.

The feared pirate of the seas, the daring and playful Jack Marlowe, lived for the moment, savoring every adventure. He plundered ships, and both the royal navy and merchant vessels feared his name. Everyone believed nothing could stop him—until one day, the royal navy captured him. Yet even as he walked to his supposed doom, he joked, jested, and even the royal court members among the spectators smiled at his audacious confidence. It was then that he spotted the king’s only daughter, the beautiful princess. She flinched not at the brutal circumstances; on the contrary, her quiet giggle revealed that she enjoyed Jack’s playful, mischievous words. From that moment, the pirate focused solely on her: every jest, every compliment was for her alone, until the fateful moment when the executioner, who was supposed to end him, never arrived. Behind the scenes, Jack ensured the man never appeared, leaving the king no choice but to release the pirate and his crew, granting them a new chance. After they parted, Jack and the princess began a secret correspondence: leaving small notes for each other at the harbor and hidden parcels scattered throughout the city. From these short lines and subtle hints, their forbidden and thrilling love slowly blossomed. Every letter was another moment in which they felt desire and connection, even as the world tried to forbid it. The situation grew tense when the king promised his daughter’s hand to a prince, intending to form a political alliance. The princess protested and turned to Jack for help. With daring plans, swift decisions, and a brave crew, the pirate ultimately ensured her safety: he smuggled her away on a secret ship, far from the palace and political schemes, where freedom and passion awaited them. The forbidden bond between the pirate and the princess became fully real—the emotions carried through their letters and the shared adventures had woven an unbreakable connection between them.

The master was a man of solitude, a once-celebrated painter who had chosen to retreat from the world. His grand estate stood silent, echoing only with the faint sound of brushes scratching against canvas. Years of disappointment and bitterness had left him moody, often short-tempered, though beneath the harsh exterior lived a man capable of deep regret and even deeper passion. He rarely allowed anyone into his private world—until the day she arrived. The maid was young, graceful, and unlike any other who had served before her. There was no lie in her eyes, just pure honesty and real smile. She brought warmth into rooms that had long grown cold, her presence a soft reminder of life beyond shadows. He noticed it immediately, though he never admitted it aloud. Instead, he found his gaze lingering far too long—on the way her hair fell loose when she bent to clean, on the lightness in her step, on the kindness in her voice that contrasted with his own sharp tone. At first, he scolded himself for such thoughts. She was his maid, nothing more. And yet, every small encounter—her placing his tea before him, his handing her a coat, the accidental brush of fingers—seemed to hum with unspoken electricity and he started feel harder control himself around her. One evening, the tension finally shifted. She entered his room, carrying a tray of tea as she always did. But this time, her foot caught the edge of the carpet. The tray slipped, the porcelain shattered, and she fell to her knees with a cry. Instinctively, the master rose, anger flashing first in his voice, but the words died the moment he saw her wince, a cut on her hand. Something within him cracked. The anger melted, replaced by a rush of concern he could not contain. He sat on the edge of his bed, pulled the maid closer and started to examine her cut.His eyes lingered on hers, and in that moment the world shifted. What had been silence became awareness, what had been distance became a spark.

Thomas Bilotti’s name wasn’t just known—it was feared. As the only son of a ruthless mafia boss, he was born into power, wealth, and shadows. Since childhood, guards tracked his every step, and his father’s expectations dictated his every move. To outsiders, Thomas looked untouchable—confident, arrogant, dangerous. But behind that façade lurked a boy who often felt trapped, a prince caged in a gilded palace. At school, his future was already written, and grades seemed irrelevant. Still, teachers demanded he attend private lessons. That’s when he met you. You came from a quiet, ordinary world—where honesty mattered more than influence, where your name didn’t make people flinch. You were smart, reserved, someone who blended into the crowd. You never believed a boy like Thomas would notice you. And at first, he didn’t seem to care—laughing at lessons, brushing off your efforts. But then, something shifted. In your eyes, he saw something his world had stolen from him long ago: truth. Purity. Hope. And once he noticed, he couldn’t look away. The day he invited you to his home, you didn’t know what to expect. The address led you far beyond the city, where the rain fell in relentless sheets. The mansion rose like a fortress, intimidating and cold. The guards at the gate eyed you with suspicion, refusing to let you in. You were drenched, frustrated, and ready to leave—until he appeared. Thomas didn’t rush to your aid. He walked slowly, deliberately, across the courtyard, his gaze locked on you as if testing how far you’d go for him. You were furious. He was amused. And somehow, in that storm, something between you both began.

Richard Fain, the young billionaire, took over his father’s empire early. Though young, he impressed everyone with his sharp mind and determination. The business world saw him as cold and calculating, yet his playful charm won people over. By his side was always his dazzling fiancée, Britany. Together, they looked like the perfect pair. Then came the accident. Richard was badly injured and fell into a coma. The family was devastated, but the worst betrayal came from Britany herself—she refused to stay with a man in such a state. For the family, this would have been a public disgrace, so they turned to you—her younger sister. You looked like her, but you were different: modest, kind, sincere. Though afraid, you couldn’t say no, not with your ill mother depending on you. From that day on, you had to pretend you were Richard’s fiancée. Day after day, you visited him. At first you were anxious, wondering what he’d think if he woke and saw through the lie. Yet as time passed, you couldn’t leave him. You spoke to him, sometimes laughed, even sketched his face on paper as though it brought you closer. Without realizing it, you began to care. Then one morning, everything changed—Richard woke. The room was crowded: relatives, old acquaintances, and even Britany. When you entered, all eyes turned on you. Whispers of contempt followed—claims you had stolen your sister’s place, that you wanted his fortune. The accusations crushed you. But then Richard spoke. His voice was weak yet firm: “Enough.” Silence fell. He called out the hypocritical relatives, the greedy friends, and finally Britany, who had abandoned him when he needed her most. His words were harsh but true. At last, his gaze met yours. He saw not betrayal but the one soul who had stayed by his side when everyone else left. And in that moment, he knew—you were the one who truly mattered.

Sadly, after a car accident, it has only been you and your brother, Ben. When the accident happened, he didn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone his little sister. But he promised he would always look after you, no matter the cost. Because money was needed fast, he made a desperate choice: he turned to the mafia. At first, he only ran small errands, but they soon realized how reliable he was, and he was drawn into more serious business. The police noticed, too – they often questioned why Ben wasn’t home with you. Luckily, they never took you away, but Ben couldn’t risk losing you. One day, he decided to bring you with him. He sat you down in a corner and made you swear you wouldn’t move. That’s when you came into the world of Vincent Bellini, your brother’s new boss. Vincent had only just taken over the business from his father. He was young, sharp, and calculating – always knowing how to outsmart rivals. But despite his cold strategies, he was a fair and just leader, respected by those who worked for him. When Ben explained why he had to keep you close, Vincent wasn’t thrilled at the idea of a girl sitting in a club, but he understood and allowed it. You sat quietly, trying not to pay attention to the dancers and the "funny" business around you. You never imagined that people would be so intrigued by your presence there – nor did Vincent imagine the effect you’d have on him. One night, a bartender told Vincent that Ben’s sister was being bothered. Annoyed at first at the thought of babysitting, he still couldn’t let anything happen to you. He stepped out into the club and saw you for the first time – long hair, a delicate figure, pale skin flushed pink from the heat of the room. Surrounded by three men, you looked fragile but striking. For the first time in his life, Vincent didn’t know if he was stepping in only because you were his man’s sister… or because something much deeper was pulling him toward you.

You had always known you wanted to be a doctor. Following in your mother’s footsteps had been your dream—she was the hospital’s head physician, respected by everyone, though you never had the chance to know her. You lost her the day you were born. Starting your residency in the same hospital felt like a way to be closer to her. You were full of life, a young woman who believed in living in the moment—even through the exhausting shifts. One night, after a long week, you went out to party. The music was loud, the lights flashing, and with a few drinks, you let yourself get carried away by the atmosphere. That’s when he appeared: tall, impossibly handsome, his smile a challenge. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Drinks turned into laughter, playful banter, lingering glances—and before you knew it, the two of you had slipped outside, the night air ringing with your shared laughter. What followed was a night both wild and sweet, filled with stolen kisses and heat you knew you’d never forget. The next morning, when he—Adrian, though you didn’t yet know the name would matter—offered you coffee, you playfully pressed a hand to your forehead and shook your head with a smile. “This was just a one-time thing,” you told yourself, and with a quick, easy goodbye, you left. You were sure you’d never see him again. The same day at the hospital, a small group had gathered at the reception desk: the new chief physician was meeting the residents. Of course, you were late, hurrying down the hallway. You could already hear the others laughing as they listened to the man speaking casually by the desk. And then you got close enough to see him… and froze. Adrian Hale. The man from last night. His gaze found yours instantly. The corner of his mouth lifted in that same teasing smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. The others noticed nothing—but you knew. He was enjoying this and he never going go miss an opportunity to tease you