💃Jessa's POV💃
"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God! I knew this was a bad idea!"
The "stranger" holds my hand with a delicate grip, absentmindedly playing with my fingers. Such a simple, innocent gesture—and yet it sets my whole hand on fire. The closeness, no matter how subtle, awakens memories of that night, when these same arms were wrapped tightly around me. I blush and sneak a glance at him. He hasn't said a single word since he saved me from an embarrassing meet-cute with the floor. And now that I've seen him again, it's like the fog clouding my memory has lifted.
Everything is painfully clear now. That hypnotic face, those glacier-blue eyes, that touch that still sends chills down my spine. No hangover in the world could have made me forget this.
He catches me staring and flashes a wicked, knowing smile. I turn my head quickly, cheeks flaming. Why is life so cruel? You're not supposed to run into your one-night stands. And even if you do, neither of you is supposed to remember anything.
Not that I ever knew his name…
Serena walks over to where all the "couples" are gathered, ready for dinner. She throws me one of her signature smug smiles—one she quickly masks with a more polished, professional one.
If she only knew…
She begins giving us instructions, leading each pair toward the rooms prepared for the evening. I steel myself, swallowing hard, because one thing is now terrifyingly obvious:
This night is just getting started.
Maybe he doesn't remember! That's it—he totally doesn't have a clue who I am. I mean, why would a guy like him remember a girl like me?
"Hey."
An arm wraps around my waist, halting my overthinking—and my steps.
I blink at the hand on my body, then glance up at its owner. He looks amused by my reaction, his face lighting up with a devastating smile. The moment I realize just how close we are, I flush. That gentle grip somehow makes every muscle in my body tense like a bowstring. Innocent or not, the effect it has on me is very real.
"This one's ours," he says, voice low, eyes locked on mine with an intensity laced with amusement.
I hadn't even noticed the rest of the crowd disappearing. I was too busy plotting my exit. But now that I'm about to be alone with him, my optimism takes a sharp nosedive.
"Ah, right," I reply with forced cheer, masking my rising anxiety as I step inside.
The organizers clearly didn't hold back with the atmosphere. The room is dimly lit by candles, white flowers arranged tastefully throughout. In the center, a round table set for two waits beneath the soft glow, two chairs facing each other like the beginning of a very intimate negotiation. A slow piano melody plays faintly in the background, completing the romantic setup. But aside from the waiter quietly waiting for our signal…
We're completely alone.
"Speaking of the rabbit walking into the lion's den…"
He leads me to the table and pulls out my chair like a perfect gentleman. The gesture takes me by surprise, but I still manage a quiet, "Thank you," and sit down—careful not to meet his gaze directly.
"Who said chivalry was dead?"
He takes the seat across from me and flashes me another one of those smiles. This guy definitely enjoys smiling. But I don't mind. I could stare at that smile for days—at those eyes, that face, and…
"So, Jessa, I don't remember 'runaway darling' being listed in your presentation," he teases, eyes locking on mine with playful intensity.
"Runaway darling? What is he tal—oh no. No no no. No!"
Damn it! He remembers. So much for my plan to play the stranger. Ugh, if I'm already exposed, the least I can do is not give him the satisfaction of knowing he rattles me.
"I thought you were too drunk to remember, mister…"
"Cross. Kane Cross. Call me Kane. And no, I wasn't drunk. Not even close."
Kane Cross. A name that screams power. But it doesn't ring any bells. I just found out he's a billionaire, but other than that… total mystery. I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach his voice causes and quickly change the subject.
"So, what do you do?"
He looks at me, surprised. Doesn't even blink. For a second I wonder if I've said something stupid—but I can't imagine why.
"You really don't know?"
"Should I?" I ask, still just as confused.
Kane laughs—loudly. He throws his head back, the sound echoing through the dimly lit room. I glare at him, clearly unimpressed. Was my question really that funny? It seemed perfectly reasonable to me. "I'm the CEO of Cross International Holdings Corporation," he replies, still visibly amused, with a touch of unmistakable arrogance.
Yeah… never heard of it. But to be fair, I'm the kind of person who rarely reads the news and actively avoids watching it. Basically, a more socially acceptable version of a cavewoman. When he notices that I still don't recognize the name, he changes the subject—but his gaze doesn't soften. He watches me closely, like he's trying to read every little thought behind my eyes.
"Why did you leave, Jessa?" His voice drops, becoming serious—and somehow, it sends chills down my spine.
Oh God. I could get used to that. The way he says my name… the way his voice dips low and soft… the way those icy blue eyes strip me bare—
Stop it! Jessa! Use your brain, not your hormones!
"What are you talking about?" I ask, faking confusion while nervously fidgeting with my fingers under the table.
Yes. Play dumb. That's the plan.
"I hope you're not planning on pretending nothing happened, Jessa," he says in that same playful tone. "You know, it wasn't exactly polite to wake up alone the next morning and find you gone," he adds in a whisper, though loud enough that the waiter hovering nearby could easily catch every word.
Great. I'm officially screwed. I wonder how fast I could run in this dress and these heels. Would he chase me, or do I actually have a shot at escaping?
"Well… I might not know much about how to handle situations like this—or anything, really," I say with a sheepish laugh, "but I'm pretty sure one-night stands are supposed to last, you know… one night."
His expression shifts instantly. The seductive smile disappears, replaced by a tight line of his lips that screams irritation. That was fast. Mood swing much? Maybe a little bipolar?
Fortunately, the waiter begins serving the main course, saving me from another question. For now.
Throughout the entire dinner, I barely managed to take a few bites. The way he watched every move I made with those mysterious, devastatingly mesmerizing eyes completely killed my appetite. As soon as dessert was over, I knew the interrogation was about to resume.
"Let's make this easier, shall we? How about a game of 20 Questions?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.
It's the last thing I expected, but I give a silent nod in agreement.
"If I'm going to hell anyway, might as well have some fun on the way…"