Chapter 1
The whiskey burned going down, but not as much as the rejection sitting in my inbox.
Dear Mr. Grant,
We regret to inform you that the secretary position at Evans Industries has been filled…
I closed the email hours ago, but the words stuck like a bad aftertaste.
Months of interviews, endless preparation—gone with one polite line.
So here I was, in a bar I couldn't afford, drowning the sting in amber liquid.
"Rough night?"
The voice was smooth, rich, and a little dangerous. I turned, and there he was—dark hair swept back, a suit that probably cost more than my rent, and eyes that looked like they could strip you down without touching you.
"Something like that," I said, forcing a half-smile.
He didn't wait for an invitation. He slid onto the stool beside me like it was his rightful place, nodding at the bartender for two more whiskeys.
"You don't look like the type who usually drinks alone," he said.
"Maybe I'm not," I replied, surprising myself.
That earned me a grin—sharp and amused. "Name?"
"Alistair."
"Lumel." His hand was warm when it closed around mine, his grip lingering a second too long.
We talked. About nothing, about everything. He was infuriating—cocky and too sure of himself—but I couldn't look away. Somewhere between the third drink and the way his knee brushed mine under the bar, my pulse started running ahead of me.
When he leaned close and said, "Let's get out of here," I didn't even think.
The penthouse was all glass and city lights, the skyline stretching behind him like it was part of him. Somewhere between the doorway and the couch, my shirt hit the floor.
I remember the heat of his hands, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the sound of his laugh when I pulled him closer. Everything blurred into warmth and skin and the soft glow of the city beyond the glass.
By the time dawn touched the windows, the air between us was heavy and quiet.
I dressed in the half-light, my shoes in hand, careful not to wake him.
One last glance at him—messy hair, bare shoulders, impossibly at ease in sleep—and I slipped out the door.
I told myself it was just a night. A stranger I'd never see again.
I didn't know then that fate was planning to laugh in my face.
---
The cab ride back to my apartment was quiet. I sat staring out at the city lights, replaying every detail of last night. My chest felt tight, like I'd left a piece of myself behind in that penthouse.
When I unlocked the door, the familiar aroma of spices greeted me. Raman was at the stove, humming a little tune, flipping something in a pan.
"Long day?" he asked without turning around.
I slumped onto the couch, letting the exhaustion and the weight of last night wash over me. For a moment, I just let the tears come, quiet and unashamed. Raman didn't say anything—he never did. He just kept cooking, letting me feel what I needed to feel.
"Breakfast's ready," he finally said, setting plates on the table.
I pushed myself to sit upright and took a bite, letting the warmth of the food calm my racing mind. Between bites, I told him everything—the rejection, the frustration, even the night at the bar. Raman raised an eyebrow at the last part, but didn't tease me. Not much.
After I finished, I cleared my plate and started heading toward the sink to wash up. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Frowning, I checked it and saw a notification from Evans Industries.
"Check this for me," I said, holding it out to Raman.
He squinted at the screen, and then we both jumped up in unison. "You got it!" he exclaimed, slapping my back.
I stared at the message in disbelief. After weeks of going from one company to another, being rejected again and again… Evans Industries had finally offered me the position. Not just any company. The company.
I grabbed my phone, fingers trembling, ready to call my mom. They had been worried about me, cheering me on from miles away, and now I had news to make them proud.
Raman grinned at me, pride shining in his eyes. "About time, man. About time."
I sank back into my chair, heart racing with excitement. Finally get a chance to make myself and my parents proud.