On a cold Sunday night, the weight of failure pressed heavily on Destini's chest. She had just found out she'd failed her exams, and the realization hit her harder than she expected. Needing an escape, she decided to drown her sorrows in a nearby bar. The night passed in a haze of bitter drinks and louder-than-usual laughter, but by the time the clock struck midnight, she was stumbling home, the alcohol in her veins numbing the sharp sting of disappointment.
Destini's body swayed as she stepped into the elevator, the soft ding of each passing floor a rhythmic lullaby. Her apartment was on the 33rd floor, number 7703, but her blurry vision and hazy mind led her to stumble onto the 34th floor instead. She stopped in front of apartment 7803, leaning against the sleek, modern door, fumbling with her key. Her fingers slipped repeatedly, the smart lock flashing red in protest.
Inside, Gabriel stirred. He had been reviewing paperwork for one of his many businesses when the faint sound of someone tampering with his door reached his ears. His brow furrowed as he closed the file, setting it aside. Who would be trying to break into my apartment at this hour? he thought, irritation flickering beneath his calm demeanor. Rising from his chair, he strode to the door and opened it.
The sight that greeted him made him pause. Standing unsteadily before him was a young woman, her clothes slightly rumpled, her cheeks flushed from alcohol, and her eyes glassy with inebriation. She smelled strongly of whiskey, and her messy hair framed her face in a way that might have been endearing if she weren't clearly trying to break into his apartment.
Destini blinked, her vision struggling to focus on the tall, broad-shouldered figure in front of her. As her eyes finally adjusted, she caught sight of Gabriel's sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and piercing eyes that seemed to glimmer even in the dim hallway light. Her drunken thoughts betrayed her, and she couldn't help but think, Wow, he's so hot. He's my type,
"Who are you?" she slurred, swaying slightly as she leaned against the doorframe. Then, her face twisted in confusion. "What are you doing in my apartment?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, his irritation giving way to mild amusement. "Your apartment?" he repeated, his voice smooth and low. "You're on the wrong floor. This is 7803, not 7703."
Destini didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes widened in alarm as her intoxicated brain jumped to a wild conclusion. "Help!" she suddenly shrieked. "There's a thief in my apartment!"
Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Miss, I'm not a thief. This is my apartment. You're at the wrong door—"
But before he could finish, Destini lunged at him, her uncoordinated movements a clumsy attempt at self-defense. She raised her arms as if to fight, but her balance betrayed her. Her foot slipped on the polished floor, and she toppled forward, crashing into Gabriel.
They both fell to the ground with a thud, Destini landing awkwardly on top of him. Her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to push herself up, but her limbs felt like jelly. Gabriel lay still beneath her, his patience wearing thin but his curiosity piqued.
Destini blinked again, her face mere inches from his. Her lips parted as her blurred gaze met his sharp, piercing eyes. "You look…" she whispered, her voice trailing off as consciousness began to slip away. Before she could finish her sentence, her body gave out, her lips brushing against his as she passed out completely.
Gabriel froze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he simply stared at her unconscious form, her warm breath soft against his cheek. Then, with a resigned sigh, he carefully picked her up and carried her down to the 33rd floor, depositing her in her own bed.