Claire winced as she gingerly rubbed her sore hip, the dull ache reminding her of the fall she'd taken. Slowly, she opened her eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was spacious, masculine, and meticulously organized—a stark contrast to the clutter of her own small apartment. The dark wood furniture gleamed under the soft light of a bedside lamp, and the faint scent of cologne lingered in the air.
Her brow furrowed as confusion set in. *Where am I?* She struggled to piece together her scattered memories. Just as she braced herself to push off the plush rug beneath her, the door to the room flew open with a sharp click.
Startled, Claire's gaze shot to the doorway, her breath catching at the sight before her.
There he stood, a strikingly handsome man with a commanding presence that filled the room. His features were sharp and chiseled, his piercing dark eyes holding a restless intensity. The faint shadow of stubble along his jawline only added to his rugged appeal. For a moment, Claire's heart skipped a beat, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest. She'd never been so affected by someone at first sight.
Lucas Zeller's brows knit together as he took in the sight of the young woman on the floor. His initial irritation softened into curiosity as he caught her wide-eyed gaze. There was something in her expression—a flicker of fascination mixed with confusion—that he couldn't ignore.
"Well," Lucas said, his voice low and edged with sarcasm, "I didn't realize sleeping on the floor was a personal preference of yours."
His thin lips curved into a faint smirk, and the sound of his voice broke the spell. Embarrassed, Claire quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as she realized she'd been openly staring at him.
"I'm… I'm sorry," she stammered, unsure of what she was apologizing for. Regaining a shred of composure, she lifted her gaze hesitantly. "Um, could you tell me where I am? And what exactly happened?"
Lucas arched an eyebrow, his penetrating gaze lingering on her delicate features. She looked genuinely confused—her wide eyes, the slight furrow of her brow, her soft lips slightly parted. He couldn't help but wonder if she truly didn't remember or if she was playing some kind of game.
"You collapsed in the street," he said curtly, crossing his arms. "Right in front of my car. Nearly caused me to crash."
Claire blinked, the memory slowly coming back in fragmented pieces. She glanced toward the door and spotted her familiar suitcase resting against the wall. The sight triggered a flood of recollection—the alley, the pale man, the stolen suitcase, the chase, and finally, the blinding headlights before everything went dark.
Lucas watched her expression shift, noting the flicker of realization in her eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, his tone edged with irritation. "So, would you mind explaining what exactly happened? Why were you running around like a headless chicken? And why, of all places, did you faint in front of *my* car?"
His words stung, and Claire's cheeks flushed deeper with guilt. "I'm really sorry," she said quickly, her voice earnest. "That wasn't my intention. I just…" She paused, taking a deep breath before recounting the chain of events—the mysterious man who had stolen her suitcase, the desperate chase, and her ill-fated attempt to retrieve it.
Lucas listened, his arms still crossed over his chest. When she finished, he nodded, his sharp gaze softening slightly. "Sounds like you ran into some addict looking for his next fix. Low-lifes like that target people who seem... vulnerable," he remarked, his tone matter-of-fact. His eyes appraised her for a moment. "You're new to the city, aren't you?"
Claire dropped her gaze, a wave of self-consciousness washing over her. His observation hit too close to home. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "I just got here."
Lucas smirked faintly, though there was no malice in it. "Figures. A newcomer like you, wandering alone at night, is practically asking for trouble."
Claire felt her heart sink at his words. He wasn't wrong—she had been naive. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, a small knot of shame forming in her chest.
Lucas studied her for a moment longer. Her head was bowed slightly, and her slender fingers fidgeted nervously. Despite himself, he felt a pang of something unexpected—was it empathy? Dismissing the thought, he straightened and spoke again, this time with a touch less sharpness. "Next time, be more cautious. This city isn't forgiving to people who look... out of place."
Claire bit her lip and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," she murmured.
For a few moments, silence hung between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Claire finally mustered the courage to look up, her bright eyes meeting his again. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that tugged at something deep within Lucas, though he quickly pushed the feeling aside.
"Well," he said, breaking the silence, "you're lucky I happened to be there. I'll have someone bring you something to eat. You'll need your strength."
Claire blinked in surprise at his unexpected thoughtfulness. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity.
Lucas gave a noncommittal shrug, stepping back toward the door. "Just don't make a habit of passing out in front of cars," he said over his shoulder, his tone dry but laced with a hint of amusement.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Claire exhaled deeply, her mind a swirl of emotions. *Who is this man?* she wondered, her heart still unsteady. And why did his presence stir something so unfamiliar within her?