The first time I truly hated him, it wasn't because of anything he had said. Not yet.
It was the way he looked at me, like he already knew everything I thought I was hiding—and like he intended to use it against me.
I noticed him across the room immediately. That kind of man doesn't just enter a space; he owns it. Tall, sharp-featured, impossibly poised in a tailored suit, eyes dark as if they carried secrets no one should ever know. Even from twenty feet away, he made the air between us tense, like a storm waiting to break.
I should have walked away. I should have stayed in my corner, kept my head down, ignored the danger. But curiosity is a dangerous trait, and pride is worse. And mine told me, without hesitation, that this man would be trouble.
Trouble was an understatement.
He was leaning casually against the far wall when our eyes met, and the world blurred for a second. Not the romantic blur you read in novels—this was sharp, unyielding, like lightning slicing a stormy sky. His gaze didn't waver. He didn't smile. He just studied me, as if I were an unsolved puzzle and he had all the pieces already.
I stepped back instinctively, but not fast enough. He was moving, fluid, almost predatory, and before I could calculate the escape, he was in front of me.
"You're Aria, right?" His voice was calm, confident, low enough to vibrate in my chest.
I swallowed hard. How did he know my name? We hadn't been introduced. Not officially.
"I—yes," I said cautiously, my voice sharper than I intended. "Do I know you?"
His lips curved in a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. "Not yet. But I plan to."
I narrowed my eyes. Smug, infuriating, dangerous. Everything about him screamed arrogance. And yet… I could not deny the surge of something unidentifiable, prickling along my nerves.
"I don't think I'd like that," I said, forcing a laugh that came out more like a snarl. "Most people who 'plan' to know me tend to regret it."
"Is that a challenge?" His smile widened slightly, though his eyes didn't soften.
"I wouldn't call it that. I'd call it reality."
He tilted his head, dark eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression. "Reality is boring. And boring is for people who don't matter. I don't think you're boring, Aria."
Heat rose in my cheeks. That shouldn't matter. His opinion shouldn't matter. But it did, whether I liked it or not.
"I don't care what you think," I shot back, voice low, but the tremor betrayed me.
"Of course you do," he said smoothly, stepping closer. Just the faintest move, almost imperceptible, but enough that I felt the air between us thicken. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be reacting this way."
Pride roared. Hatred flared. Desire—impossible, infuriating—pulsed beneath the surface. I wanted to walk away. I wanted to turn my back and never look at him again. But I didn't. Because something in him demanded attention, even against my better judgment.
The air between us was charged, dangerous. And then, inevitably, he smiled. Not a warm smile. Not inviting. It was one of those smiles that made you simultaneously aware of your own desire and terrified of it.
"Tell me," he said, voice dropping, measured, controlled, "what are you hiding?"
I blinked. My chest tightened. "I don't hide anything," I said automatically. "And even if I did, it's none of your business."
"Ah, but it is," he replied, stepping even closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. "Because I have a feeling your secrets are… interesting."
I bristled. The nerve. The arrogance. "You don't know anything about me. And I don't intend to let you."
"You underestimate me," he said softly, almost a whisper, yet commanding. "I see more than you think. I know more than I should. And soon…" His voice darkened, compelling, "you'll realize that I'm not someone you can ignore."
I clenched my fists at my sides, pride roaring in defiance. "I don't care if I can ignore you. And I certainly don't plan to be drawn into whatever game you're playing."
He tilted his head, gaze sharp, analyzing, unyielding. "Oh, it's not a game. Not really. And I don't play fair."
Something inside me twisted—fear? Anticipation? Desire? I didn't have time to sort it out. I didn't want to.
Before I could speak, he moved again, closing just enough space to make me step back. "I'll warn you," he said, low and deliberate, "there are things happening behind the scenes, things most people can't see. You're already involved, Aria, whether you know it or not. And soon… you'll have to make a choice. Will you fight, or will you fall?"
My heart pounded. Choice. That word felt loaded, dangerous, final. I opened my mouth, but no words came. Pride fought with fear, and fear whispered that walking away might no longer be an option.
He smiled again, enigmatic, infuriating, impossible. "I'll see you soon," he said, stepping back and disappearing into the crowd before I could respond.
And just like that, the first war had begun.
I hated him already. I wanted to destroy him. And yet… I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Because some battles, I realized with a shiver, aren't meant to be avoided. They're meant to consume you.
And in his eyes, I already saw the fire that would burn me.