The hum of the city faded behind the velvet curtains of Suite 1207. Alexander Drake, billionaire CEO and master of control, sat with a glass of scotch, surveying the skyline. Deals, deadlines, scandals—they all seemed distant here.
A soft knock broke the silence. "Housekeeping," a gentle voice called.
Mia Torres pushed the door open, mop in hand, a friendly smile that didn't flinch at the man who dominated headlines. She had no idea who he truly was, and that ignorance made her fearless.
"Good evening, sir," she said warmly. "I just need to tidy up a bit."
Alexander's stern gaze softened. There was something disarmingly genuine about her—not arrogance or awe, just effortless kindness. "Of course," he said.
As Mia moved around the suite, she hummed softly, adjusting pillows, replacing tulips in the vase, and noticing details Alexander hadn't even realized were off. He watched her, a strange sensation stirring in a part of him long buried. Curiosity turned into fascination as she laughed quietly at a wobbling vase she caught just in time. Her laughter was light, unpretentious, and it tugged at something deep within him.
"Are you new here?" he asked, breaking the silence.
Mia looked up, eyes meeting his. "A few months. I like it. People are…different here," she said carefully, sensing his world was far removed from hers.
Alexander's chest tightened in a way he hadn't felt in years. "Different can be good," he said softly. "It keeps life interesting."
She smiled, unaware of the truth behind his words. And in that quiet moment, the luxurious suite no longer felt like an escape—it felt like the beginning of something neither of them expected.
For the first time in years, Alexander wondered if he could ever let someone in…someone like Mia.