I told myself I wouldn't use it.
The black card sat on my nightstand, untouched, its presence far louder than it had any right to be. No name, no company logo—just a single phone number, embossed in silver.
I had been given countless business cards in my life. Men who wanted to impress me. Men who wanted to get close to my family. Men who thought they were powerful enough to match me.
I never called them.
So why was this one different?
I stood in front of my vanity, brushing out my long waves, the soft silk of my robe clinging to my skin. My suite at the Carlton Imperial Hotel was just as extravagant as the gala itself—polished marble floors, gold-accented furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the shimmering city skyline.
Luxury was my normal.
And yet, tonight, nothing felt normal.
I blamed him for that.
The way he looked at me. The way he spoke. The quiet authority in his voice, the certainty in his words.
I was used to being pursued. I was used to men trying to impress me.
But he hadn't chased. He hadn't tried.
He had simply given me a choice.
I traced my fingers over the card, exhaling sharply. This is ridiculous.
I should have thrown it away the moment I got into my car.
Instead, I picked up my phone.
Dialed the number before I could stop myself.
It rang once. Twice. Then—
"That was faster than I expected."
His voice was just as I remembered—smooth, deep, laced with amusement. As if he had known all along that I'd call.
I gripped my phone tighter, refusing to let my pulse betray me. "And if I hadn't?"
A pause. A hint of something darkly amused in the silence. "I would've waited."
My breath caught in my throat.
Because I believed him.
Because something told me he wasn't the kind of man who hoped for things—he was the kind who knew.
And somehow, tonight, he had known that I wouldn't be able to resist.