Shock and Awe
Doris stood frozen at the studio entrance.
Dante was here.
At her desk.
Looking like he belonged.
He stood slowly, his dark eyes meeting hers with an unreadable expression.
"Hello, Doris."
She swallowed hard. "You work here now?"
He gave a small nod. "Yes."
She blinked. "Since when?"
"This morning."
Her heart pounded. This couldn't be a coincidence.
There were hundreds of studios in London. Dozens of fashion houses.
Why Marlowe & Co.?
And why now?
Clara Whitmore appeared beside them, clipboard in hand.
"Doris, I assume you've met our new creative director?" she said coolly.
Creative director?
Doris turned to Clara. "Since when do we have a creative director?"
Clara smirked. "Since today."
She handed Doris a folder. "You two will be working closely together. We're launching a new line. Something bold. Something daring. And since you already seem… familiar with Mr. Dangerwaker," she paused, letting the implication hang in the air, "I expect great things."
Then she walked away.
Leaving Doris standing there, staring at the man who'd vanished without a word.
---
Tension Builds
Doris dropped her bag on her desk and sat down stiffly.
Dante didn't sit. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"You look surprised," he said.
She scoffed. "Is that what you call it?"
"I thought you'd be more impressed."
"Oh, I'm impressed," she snapped. "Impressed that you can just walk back into my life like nothing happened."
His expression softened. "It wasn't nothing."
She looked up at him sharply. "Then what was it?"
He hesitated.
"I had to leave."
"Why?"
He glanced around the studio, as if someone might be listening.
"Not here."
She narrowed her eyes. "Then where?"
"I'll take you somewhere tonight."
She shook her head. "No way. You don't get to just—"
He leaned closer, voice low. "Please. Just one more night."
She hated how much she wanted to say yes.
---
Behind the Scenes
As the day wore on, whispers spread through the studio.
"Dante Dangerwaker is working here?"
"The music producer?"
"Didn't he disappear after that scandal?"
Doris overheard snippets of conversation but stayed silent.
She tried to focus on her sketches, but her mind kept drifting to last Friday night.
To the candlelit room.
To the kiss beneath the flickering lamppost.
To the note he left behind.
"Last night was real. I meant every word. But I can't stay. I'm sorry."
What did he mean by that?
And why was he suddenly back?
Midway through the afternoon, Clara called for a meeting.
Everyone gathered in the main conference room.
Dante stood at the front with Clara.
He looked completely at ease.
Like he'd never been gone.
"Good afternoon," Clara began. "As many of you have probably heard by now, we've brought on board a new creative director—Mr. Dante Dangerwaker."
A few murmurs passed through the room.
Clara continued. "We are launching a new collection—'Echoes.' It's inspired by the past, the present, and the stories we carry. We want something haunting yet beautiful. Raw yet refined."
She gestured to Dante. "Mr. Dangerwaker will be leading this project."
Doris felt her stomach drop.
This wasn't just a collaboration.
He was calling the shots.
He caught her gaze across the room.
And held it.
---
Flashback: Dante's Fall from Fame
That night, while Doris waited outside the studio, memories surfaced.
Back in 2017, Dante Dangerwaker was everywhere.
His music defined a generation.
Dark, moody, poetic.
Artists begged to collaborate with him.
Fans adored him.
But then came the rumors.
Whispers about a tragic event.
Something involving a rising star named Lila Voss.
She was young.
Talented.
Beautiful.
And dead.
Found in Dante's apartment.
Overdose.
The press called it suicide.
Others weren't so sure.
Dante disappeared shortly after.
Vanished from the spotlight.
Now, he was back.
And standing right in front of her.
---
Dinner and Secrets
They met later that evening at a quiet café near Regent's Park.
Rain misted the windows as they sat across from each other, coffee steaming between them.
"So," Doris said, breaking the silence. "You're not just some random guy I met in a bar?"
Dante smirked. "Never claimed to be."
"Then who are you really?"
He exhaled slowly. "Once upon a time, I was a music producer. I worked with some of the biggest names in the industry."
"And then?"
He looked away. "Lila happened."
Doris frowned. "What does that mean?"
"She was my muse," he said quietly. "My friend. My everything."
"What happened to her?"
He didn't answer right away.
"I found her body in my apartment," he finally said. "Alone. Cold."
Doris's breath caught.
"I didn't know," she whispered.
"No one did," he said bitterly. "Except me."
She reached out, touching his hand.
He flinched slightly but didn't pull away.
"I ran," he admitted. "After that, I couldn't face the world. Couldn't face myself."
"And now?" she asked.
He looked at her.
"I came back because of you."
She swallowed hard.
"That's not fair."
"I know," he said. "But it's true."
---
Sparks Reignite
They walked home together under the glow of streetlights.
The city hummed around them.
Rain dripped from the eaves.
Doris shivered.
Dante pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She smelled him on the fabric—leather, smoke, something intoxicating.
"You shouldn't have come back," she said softly.
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
He stopped walking.
Turned to face her.
Because I needed to feel something real again.
And you made me remember what that was."
She looked up at him.
Heart pounding.
Then he kissed her.
Slow.
Deep.
Full of longing.
She kissed him back.
Even though she knew it would hurt.
Even though she knew he still carried ghosts.
Even though she should have walked away.
She didn't.
---
Flat Moments
By the time they reached her flat, the rain had stopped.
Doris turned to him.
"We can't keep doing this," she said.
"I know," he replied.
"But I can't stop either."
She nodded.
Neither could she.
Inside, she changed into pajamas and stared at her sketchpad.
On the page was a woman wearing a red dress.
Standing alone.
Surrounded by shadows.
And in the background…
A man watching.
Waiting.
Haunted.
Just like Dante.
She closed the sketchbook.
And wondered what tomorrow would bring.