Chapter 2 The Stranger and the Spark

The music had shifted-slower, silkier-as the night deepened around them and the lounge was melting into something hazier now, shadows blending into gold under dim chandeliers. Ava Monroe was no longer thinking about boardrooms, pitch decks, or Simon Hartley's smug face. She was thinking about the way this stranger watched her like she was a puzzle he was dying to solve.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, suit jacket folded neatly behind him. The soft fabric of his white shirt stretched over his shoulders as he moved, casual and powerful all at once.

"So," he said, eyes flicking to her mouth, "what does a woman like you do when she's not making smart, sarcastic comebacks in expensive bars?"

Ava tilted her head, swirling her bourbon again. "Is that your way of asking if I'm single, employed, or sane?"

"I was hoping for at least two out of three."

She smirked. "Marketing executive. Very sane and single."

"And very sharp," he added as he hadn't even asked her name. Not once. And that should've bothered her. But instead, it thrilled her-this unspoken agreement that tonight existed in a bubble outside of names, roles, or consequences.

"I should ask what you do," she said, leaning in just slightly, "but I'm guessing your job involves expensive suits, bigger problems than mine, and some kind of complicated relationship with power."

"Close," he said. "I'm in...transitions."

"Sounds vague and loaded."

He gave her a look that made her insides hum. "Most worthwhile things are."

With that, their drinks dwindled as the space between them shortened. She didn't remember when she reached for his hand, only that his thumb stroked her knuckles as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He leaned closer, voice barely above the hum of the room. "You want to get out of here?"

Ava hesitated for only a beat as every voice of logic in her head rose like alarm bells-this was impulsive, reckless, and completely unlike her. But after everything that had happened that day, maybe what she needed wasn't logic, maybe she needed fire.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Let's go."

****

The ride to her apartment was a blur of silence and smoldering looks.

By the time the elevator doors closed behind them, he had her pressed against the mirrored wall, his lips capturing hers with a hunger that made her knees buckle. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed her like a man starved of warmth. And as soon as they stumbled into her apartment, she didn't bother turning on the lights as he swept his coat off, unbuttoned her blouse with a patience that made her tremble, and kissed every inch of skin like he had the right.

Ava wasn't used to giving up control, not in her career or her relationships. But tonight...tonight she decided to let go.

Not too long, they made it to her bedroom in a tangle of limbs, laughter, and soft moans. He took his time like he was learning her body as a language. And she spoke back with every gasp, every arch, every whispered yes.

It wasn't just sex. It was something electric. Something she wasn't prepared for, and when it was over, they lay tangled in sheets, her head on his chest, and their bodies still humming. He ran his fingers down her spine lazily, as if he wanted the night to stretch endlessly.

But sleep claimed her too fast, and when she woke the next morning, he was gone.

He left no note, no name, no goodbye. Just a faint scent on her pillow and the low burn of regret humming beneath her skin.

Ava sat up slowly, as the early morning light cast pale gold across her sheets. while the other side of the bed was cold, and her apartment turned quiet.

She pulled the sheet around her and stood, pacing to the window as she stared at the city and the indifferent skyline lights and taxis below. Though the world hadn't changed-but she had. One night, one man with no strings.

So why did it feel like something had been taken from her?

Soon, her gaze dropped to the rumpled sheets, and her heart stung unexpectedly as she didn't know if she'd ever see him again, though she hated that part of her... wanted to.

Later that morning, Ava showered, got dressed, and poured herself the strongest coffee she could manage. Her head throbbed not from the alcohol, but from the mental hangover of everything that had unraveled the night before. Her career, her pride, and now this strange but magnetic man who kissed her like she was the answer to a question he didn't know he was asking.

Meanwhile, Lila texted mid-coffee:

LILA:

"Did he blow your mind or your apartment?"

AVA:

"Maybe both."

LILA:

"God, I live for this. Did you get his name??"

Ava stared at the screen for a beat before typing:

AVA:

"I didn't get his name or number. He's gone."

With that, there was a long pause before Lila replied.

LILA:

"Then he's either a heartbreaker... or a ghost. Please tell me he wasn't married."

AVA:

"Well, I saw no ring, but he had lots of secrets to share."

However, after giving her response, Ava tossed her phone aside and stared out the window. She didn't have time to unravel the mystery men or mourn stolen campaigns, since today was a new day, and she had work to do, whatever that now looked like.

But deep in her gut, something churned, as if her story with the stranger wasn't over.