He walked into the café, his eyes as dark as the night, as cold as the evening breeze. It sent shivers down everyone's spine, crawling on their skin like a slug. The trench coat he wore only heightened the fear he brought.
"Emily", Anastasia whispered to her friend, tugging at her blue floral dress. "I don't feel good about this", she added.
But Emily only gazed, her lips curved as she tracked his movement, following him until he sat at the far end of the table. "Don't you think he looks like those royal princes in the books we read?"
Anastasia couldn't believe that a man who made her feel this cold could be pictured as a romance figure to Emily. She followed her gaze, however, to him. His hair was sleeked back, his jaw chiseled but hard. As if sensing her gaze, he turned immediately, and their eyes locked. Time suddenly stood still.
"No!", Anastasia exclaimed breathlessly. "It can't be, no, not him. God!!!! Not him!!!"