Chapter 3 The First Glance

"Why is she so tactile?" Kylian wondered, glancing down at Lana's eager face as she excitedly described the fundraiser they would be attending later that evening. He forced a polite smile, though he couldn't care less about fundraisers-especially this one, since Lana would be there. But regaining his father's favor was more important than his annoyances, particularly after completing a year of house arrest for possession of arms and simple assault.

Originally sentenced to six years in prison, Kylian had avoided a harsher fate thanks to his father-one of the richest men in the world, with a net worth of seventy billion dollars. A few well-placed calls had secured him a significantly reduced sentence: a year of confinement in a private beachfront chalet. It was during this period that his parents introduced him to Lana Montgomery, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of one of Britain's largest crude oil magnates.

They had met at a gala, where his mother had eagerly pushed him toward Lana. She was undeniably beautiful-her sleek bob framing delicate features, and eyes as blue as forget-me-nots-but beauty could only hold his attention for so long. It hadn't taken him long to realize that was all there was to her. She was dull, painfully agreeable, and followed him around like a shadow, laughing at all his jokes-even the ones that weren't funny.

He had been on the verge of telling her he wasn't interested when she had unexpectedly shown up at his chalet just days into his sentence. She'd arrived in a tight pink dress that left little to the imagination, her floral perfume clinging to the air between them. He had barely managed to ask what she was doing there before she pushed her way inside, pressing her lips to his and leading him to the bedroom, where she had done things to him that he still couldn't quite believe.

A smirk played at his lips as the memory flickered through his mind. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Lana speaking until she touched his arm.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Kylian blinked, refocusing. "Sorry, I zoned out. What were you asking?"

"It's alright," she said, smiling sweetly. "You must be tired. I was asking if you have a tux for the fundraiser."

"I have one somewhere," he replied coolly. When he noticed the slight fall in her expression-she had probably been hoping for an excuse to take him shopping-he forced a small smile to soften his response.

Then, out of nowhere, he saw her.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Her beauty was almost unreal-like something sculpted by the gods themselves. Deep, haunting green eyes that seemed to see right through him, locking onto his as if they were meant to and never looking away. Her lips, full and perfectly shaped, were the kind men dreamed about.

That wild, raven-black hair, thick and untamed, framed her delicate face like a dark halo, making her look both angelic and dangerously irresistible. Her flawless, porcelain skin made his fingers ache to touch it, to trace every inch. She was perfection-a living masterpiece. And she didn't even know it.

She was the kind of woman who lingered in a man's thoughts long after she was gone. The kind you couldn't forget, no matter how hard you tried.

Not that he would ever want to.

She was meant to be his.

She just didn't know it yet.

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Kylian's jaw tightened as he watched the man approach her. She smiled-those almond-shaped eyes, so perfect they looked almost unreal-locked onto the stranger with an expression that sent a sharp stab of irritation through him. His grip tightened as the man took her hand, pulling her gently away.

Forcing himself to look elsewhere, Kylian reached for the Louis Carmen leather-bound journal-one of the many his mother had given him since he started seeing that high-profile, ridiculously expensive therapist. The woman had only ten patients, yet she made him sit in her massive office for three hours every Saturday, asking what felt like the same question every fifteen minutes.

He didn't believe it helped. But he still went-to keep his mother happy.

With his Montblanc ballpoint pen, he began sketching. Every delicate curve of her face, every detail burned into his memory. He was so engrossed that he didn't hear Lana speaking.

"You're very absent-minded today," she observed.

Kylian rolled his eyes inwardly. Hadn't she noticed? He'd been absent-minded since he met her. Why wouldn't Lana just take a hint? But instead of voicing his irritation, he only smiled and twirled the pen between his fingers.

Lana reached for the journal, flipping it open to the finished portrait. Her eyebrows lifted, as if trying to recall where she had seen the face.

"She looks familiar," she murmured.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Kylian asked, a hint of wistfulness slipping into his voice.

Lana shrugged, feigning indifference. "If you like that type."

She dropped the journal onto the cold metal chair beside them. The magnets on the cover clanged against the surface, the sharp noise cutting through the airport lounge.

Kylian smirked, detecting the unmistakable edge of envy in her voice. The most insecure woman he knew, jealous of a picture. He decided to have a little fun-after all, there was nothing else to do.

"What do you think we're doing, Lana?" he asked smoothly.

Her head snapped toward him so fast he heard the crack of her neck. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

But Kylian didn't answer.

The loudspeaker overhead crackled to life.

"Now boarding: First Class, Flight 107 to Manhattan."

His name was called. Without another word, Kylian stood, grabbing his journal.

And he left,leaving Lana to rush after him.

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