Chapter 2
The city that never sleeps was alive with energy as Frank Parker stepped out of his sleek black car, the sound of the engine echoing into the bustling night. It had been a long week, and the pressures of work were starting to wear him thin. The tight grip of responsibility, the endless meetings, the weight of his family's expectations—all of it had built up, leaving him feeling suffocated.
Tonight, however, he had made a rare decision to escape the world of boardrooms and corporate power. He had no agenda, no plans—just the need to lose himself in the anonymity of the night.
As he entered the club, the thumping bass of the music vibrated through his body, the lights flashing in sync with the beat. It was a stark contrast to the cold, controlled environment he usually inhabited. This was freedom, or at least the closest thing he could get to it.
The crowd was a mixture of fashion-forward socialites, businessmen looking for a distraction, and tourists seeking a taste of New York's nightlife. Frank, however, wasn't interested in mingling. He didn't need more people to remind him who he was; he simply wanted a drink and some space.
Making his way to the bar, he ordered a whiskey, neat, and leaned back against the counter. He didn't expect much, but as he scanned the room, something caught his attention.
A woman.
She was sitting alone at a table in the far corner, the low lights casting a halo around her. Her long, dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her lips, painted a deep shade of red, were slightly parted as if lost in thought. She didn't belong to the crowd. Unlike the others, who were either dancing or engaged in animated conversation, she seemed detached, as if she had her own world.
Frank's gaze lingered on her. There was something about her—a quiet elegance that made her stand out. He couldn't explain it, but the pull was undeniable.
For a moment, he tried to ignore the curiosity gnawing at him, but it was no use. Something drew him in, a force stronger than his usual indifference.
After a long pause, he pushed himself off the bar and made his way toward her, careful to remain unnoticed by the rest of the crowd. He didn't know why, but it felt like this was the only thing that mattered right now.
As he reached her table, he cleared his throat softly.
"Mind if I join you?" Frank asked, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of hesitation.
The woman looked up, her deep blue eyes meeting his. For a second, Frank could have sworn she was startled, but then she gave him a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Sure," she said, her voice soft but carrying a tone of quiet strength. "I wasn't expecting company, but I suppose you're welcome."
Frank slid into the chair across from her, feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. This was different from the usual shallow interactions he had with people. There was an air of mystery about her that intrigued him.
"I'm Frank," he said, extending his hand.
"Emma," she replied, shaking his hand briefly.
For a moment, there was silence between them, the music pulsating in the background. Frank could feel the awkward tension, but he didn't mind. It was a strange comfort—one he hadn't felt in a long time.
"So, Emma…" Frank began, trying to push past the strange silence. "What brings you here tonight?"
She shrugged lightly. "Just needed to get out of my own head for a while. It's been one of those weeks."
Frank nodded, understanding more than he cared to admit. He, too, had been in need of an escape, even if it was just for a few hours.
"You don't seem like the type who normally comes to places like this," Frank remarked, not trying to flatter her but genuinely curious.
Emma raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "And what type is that?"
Frank chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Someone who's always at the center of attention, surrounded by people who want something from you."
Her smile faded slightly, but her eyes sparkled with something deeper. "I think we all want something. Some of us just don't know what it is."
Her words caught him off guard. It was a response that seemed both profound and guarded. There was more to her than met the eye, he could sense it. But before he could probe further, the bartender arrived with his drink.
He took the glass, swirling the liquid as he glanced back at Emma. "What about you? What do you want, Emma?"
She paused, as if weighing her words carefully. "I don't know. Sometimes I think I just want peace. But I'm not sure that's even possible anymore."
Frank felt a flicker of something—sympathy?—but he couldn't place it. This wasn't the kind of conversation he usually had. He was used to shallow exchanges, small talk, the usual banter that never required more than a smile or a handshake. But this felt different.
Before he could say anything more, Emma tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to read him.
"You don't look like someone who needs to be here," she said, her voice steady. "You seem… out of place."
Frank raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her perceptiveness. "And you do?"
She smiled wryly. "Maybe we're both out of place then."
There was a beat of silence between them. Frank couldn't remember the last time he'd met someone who seemed so unaffected by his status, someone who wasn't dazzled by his wealth or power. It was refreshing, yet unsettling.
"I don't usually do this," Frank said after a long pause. "Approach strangers, I mean. But something about you…"
Emma's expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed less guarded. "Sometimes you have to do things you don't normally do. Otherwise, you never get anywhere."
Frank stared at her, his thoughts a jumble. He hadn't expected this night to turn into anything meaningful. In fact, he hadn't expected anything at all. But here he was, sitting across from a woman who seemed to have a depth he couldn't quite grasp, yet desperately wanted to.
As the night wore on, their conversation flowed easily, each topic drifting into the next. But as the drinks flowed, the clarity between them began to blur. They laughed, shared stories, and for a brief moment, Frank forgot about his worries, his responsibilities. For once, he was just a man talking to a woman—a woman who didn't care who he was.
It wasn't until Emma's words began to slur and her posture became more unsteady that Frank realized just how much time had passed. The once confident and composed woman before him now seemed vulnerable, her laughter tinged with a slight tremor.
"Maybe we should get you home," Frank suggested, standing up.
Emma nodded, her head spinning. "Maybe… maybe not yet."
But it was too late. As she stood, her knees buckled, and Frank caught her just in time. "Whoa, easy there."
The night was about to take an unexpected turn, and neither of them knew it yet.