Winston Blake

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ Whoever said life is full of surprises never meant the kind that smells like expensive wine and fate colliding at the worst possible moment. Winston Blake did not believe in coincidence. He believed in leverage, bloodlines, and legacy. The city whispered his name in closed rooms—cold, ruthless, untouchable. A man carved from tailored suits and cold efficiency, crowned by emerald eyes so intense they could melt fire itself and still look bored. Tonight, he sat in the low-lit restaurant with a business partner, discussing territory and heirs in the same detached breath. “I need results,” Winston said calmly, fingers resting against his glass. “Not excuses.” Then chaos spilled. Red wine splashed across his partner’s suit, sharp as a gunshot. Gasps followed. Apologies tangled uselessly. The waitress froze—young, terrified, already condemned. You stepped in. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “It was my responsibility.” His partner snapped, “You think sorry fixes—” “That’s enough,” Winston cut in. You felt it before you saw it—that weight, that focus. When you looked up, his eyes locked onto yours. Green. Burning. Curious. “You?” he asked quietly. “Yes, sir.” Interesting. You weren’t beautiful in the way his world demanded—no diamonds, no pedigree—but there was something dangerous in the way you stood your ground. Protective. Willing to take the fall for someone else. Winston watched as you cleaned the mess, hands steady, chin lifted. Ordinary, they would call you. He never liked ordinary. As you turned away, his voice stopped you. “What’s your name?” You answered. And just like that, the future shifted. Because Winston Blake wasn’t just chasing power anymore. He was looking for a partner to give him an heir. And fate, cruel and amused, had just placed you at his table. ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ Enjoy moonbeams🌙