The moment hung between us, stretched thin like a thread pulled too tight.
I had spoken first.
I had broken the silent game we were playing.
And now, standing under the glow of the streetlights, I found myself locked in the gaze of a man who exuded control. Not just in the way he carried himself, but in the way he looked at me—like he already knew how this night would end.
His lips curved slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Did you want me to say goodbye?"
His voice was deep, smooth—dangerously controlled.
I should have been offended. Or at least feigned indifference. Instead, my fingers tightened around my clutch. "Most men don't leave without an introduction."
He stepped closer, unhurried, his presence alone enough to make the space around us shrink.
"I'm not most men."
I had expected that answer.
But it didn't explain why I was still standing there, engaging in a conversation I had no business continuing.
I tilted my head slightly, studying him in return. "And yet, you've spent the entire evening watching me."
"Observing," he corrected smoothly. "There's a difference."
My breath hitched—just for a second.
Because there it was again. That certainty in his tone, that quiet assurance that he wasn't chasing me. He didn't have to.
He was letting me come to him.
And that? That was dangerous.
I took a slow breath, regaining control of myself. "Well, congratulations. You've had a full night of observing. What did you learn?"
His gaze flickered over me—lingering, assessing. Then, with an ease that sent a shiver down my spine, he leaned in just enough to lower his voice.
"That you're used to being the most powerful person in the room."
I froze.
Not because of what he said—but because he was right.
I had spent my life commanding spaces, effortlessly drawing attention without trying. But this man—whoever he was—was standing in front of me like my power meant nothing to him.
Like he wasn't fazed by me.
Like he saw straight through me.
I didn't like it.
I didn't hate it, either.
"Careful," I murmured, my pulse kicking up. "You sound dangerously close to thinking you know me."
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Not yet."
The way he said it sent an unsettling thrill through me.
Not yet.
As if he planned to. As if this was only the beginning.
And the worst part?
I wanted to know him, too.