The club was buzzing, the music vibrating through the floor, and I was finally feeling the effects of a night out. Celine and Serena had dragged me to the dance floor, and after a few drinks, I let myself get lost in the rhythm, the pulsing lights, the carefree energy surrounding us. It was exactly what I needed—an escape from everything that had been weighing me down.
We twirled and laughed, Serena throwing her arms around both Celine and me as we moved to the beat. The stress, the tension—it all seemed to fade under the flashing lights and loud music.
But then, just as I was really starting to lose myself in the night, I felt it.
That unmistakable sensation of being watched.
It wasn't just any glance. This was something heavier, something charged. My stomach flipped, and against my better judgment, I looked around, my pulse quickening before I even saw him.
And then, there he was.
Alex Volkov.
He was standing by the bar, tall and effortlessly magnetic, his gaze fixed right on me. Even in the dim, flashing lights, I could see the sharpness in his eyes, the intensity that never seemed to leave him. He wasn't the kind of man you could ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.
Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the noise of the club seemed to fade into the background. The air between us felt charged, like an invisible thread had just pulled tight. My heart skipped a beat, the pounding of the music no match for the thud of my pulse.
He didn't move, didn't smile. He just watched me, his expression unreadable, but those eyes—they said more than words ever could. They always did.
My throat went dry, and I quickly turned back to Celine and Serena, hoping they hadn't noticed the sudden shift in my energy. But, of course, they had.
Celine nudged me, a knowing smirk on her face. "Was that who I think it was?"
I tried to play it off, forcing a laugh. "No idea what you're talking about."
Serena narrowed her eyes at me, looking suspicious. "Uh-huh. Sure."
I swallowed hard, my pulse still racing. "It's nothing. Let's just dance."
But even as I said the words, I couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze on me, like an invisible weight pressing down. Part of me wanted to march over there, demand to know what he was doing at the same club on the same night. Was it a coincidence? Or was it something else?
The other part of me—the smarter, more cautious part—wanted to pretend he wasn't here at all. I came out tonight to forget about Alex Volkov, not to be dragged back into his orbit.
And yet, here we were.
I managed to stay on the dance floor for a few more songs, but the whole time, I was hyper-aware of his presence. Every time I let my guard down, I'd catch a glimpse of him, still standing by the bar, watching, as if waiting for something.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm grabbing another drink," I told Celine and Serena, hoping they wouldn't insist on coming with me.
"Go for it," Serena called over the music, already pulling Celine back into the groove.
I made my way through the crowd, my heart racing faster with every step. I didn't know what I was going to say to him—or if I even planned to say anything at all—but I couldn't ignore him. Not anymore.
When I reached the bar, he was still there, leaning against the counter, his eyes never leaving me. Up close, he was even more striking than I remembered. The dark suit he wore looked too formal for the club, but somehow, it only added to the dangerous allure that always surrounded him.
I stopped just a few feet away, my pulse pounding in my ears.
"Alex," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze dark and unreadable. "Emma."
The way he said my name—it sent a shiver down my spine.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, like this was just a coincidence and not something that was throwing my entire night into chaos.
His lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile I'd seen from him in a while. "I could ask you the same thing."
"I'm here with my friends. What's your excuse?"
He tilted his head, considering me. "I needed a distraction."
A distraction. Of course, he did. But from what? Or from *who*?
"And you just happened to end up at the same club as me?" I challenged, crossing my arms, trying to regain a sliver of control.
Alex didn't flinch, didn't waver. He just watched me, that calculating look in his eyes making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. "It wasn't planned. But I'm not complaining."
His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I opened my mouth to say something, to brush it off, but the truth was, I didn't have a quick comeback. I didn't know how to navigate whatever this was between us—this constant push and pull, this tension that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface.
He took a step closer, and the space between us felt impossibly small. The club was loud, people were moving all around us, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of us, caught in the middle of something neither of us could quite name.
"I didn't come here looking for you, Emma," he said, his voice low, like a confession. "But now that you're here, I'm not sure I can look away."
I swallowed hard, my heart thundering in my chest. I wasn't sure if I should feel flattered or alarmed. Probably both.
"I didn't come here looking for you either," I whispered, barely audible above the music. "But here we are."
He nodded, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my skin tingle. "Here we are."