Chapter One: The Stranger in Room 917
The club pulsed like a living thing—loud, reckless, drunk on midnight. Aria West wasn't supposed to be here. She didn't do impulsive. She did control. Logic. Well-written arguments and spotless reputations.
But tonight?
Tonight, she wanted to forget.
She downed the rest of her drink, felt the vodka burn down her throat, and turned toward the dance floor. That's when she saw him. Dark hair, tailored shirt slightly undone at the collar, and eyes that looked like trouble in human form. He was leaning against the bar, watching her like she was already his.
She should've walked away.
Instead, she walked toward him.
"You look like you need a reason to stop thinking," he said, voice smooth as whiskey.
"And you look like you've got one to offer," she replied, surprising herself.
He smirked. No name. No questions. Just chemistry. When he reached for her hand, she didn't hesitate. They left together. Into the elevator. Into Room 917.
Room 917 – That Night
The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the world outside.
Aria leaned against it, her breath shallow. The room was dim, washed in golden light. Luxurious. Quiet. A strange calm settled over her—until he turned and looked at her like she was the only thing in the universe worth undressing.
"You sure?" he asked, his voice low.
She nodded. "Yes."
He didn't rush. He stepped closer like she might vanish if he moved too fast. His hand slid along her jaw, tracing the line of her cheek with his thumb. Then his lips found hers—soft at first, then deeper, hungrier.
Her hands clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him in. He tasted like heat and danger, like a man who knew exactly how to touch without asking where.
His jacket hit the floor. Her heels followed. And as they moved toward the bed, tangled in kisses and half-laughter, Aria didn't think. She didn't plan. She only felt.
Fingers slid under fabric. Breath hitched. His mouth traveled to her neck, her shoulder, like he was memorizing every inch of her.
"You're..." she whispered, barely finding her voice.
"Don't say anything," he murmured against her skin. "Not tonight."
And she didn't.
They fell into bed, bodies fitting like a secret told too soon—urgent, burning, and inevitable. Every kiss was a question. Every gasp was an answer. And when the world finally faded around them, Aria wasn't sure who she was anymore.
She only knew she didn't want the night to end.
But it would.
The sheets were still warm when she woke up, heart racing. Sunlight poured through the hotel curtains. The spot beside her was empty. No sign of him. No note. No goodbye.
Perfect.
One night. No strings. No damage.
She buttoned her blouse with shaking fingers and left without looking back.
Three weeks later
Aria stepped into the boardroom, heels sharp on marble, portfolio in hand. Today was the day she'd finally be named junior partner. Years of sacrifice. Clean record. She was ready.
Until she saw him.
The stranger from Room 917.
Sitting at the head of the table.
Wearing a suit and a smirk.
Her boss stood. "Everyone, meet Julian Roth. Our new CEO. He's here to restructure, streamline, and lead the firm forward."
Julian's eyes locked onto hers.
Not a flicker of surprise.
Only that same quiet, knowing danger from that night.
"Nice to meet you all," he said smoothly. "Some of you, I've already had the pleasure of… meeting."
Aria's blood went cold.
He remembered.
And now he was in charge.