Adira's POV
The gala was a blur of champagne glasses, gold chandeliers, and the low hum of powerful conversations. I had been pulled into three different introductions by the time I felt that gaze again the same one from earlier.
When I turned, he was there. Close this time.
Tall. Sharp jaw. Eyes dark and unreadable, but steady on me like he had been waiting all night.
He crossed the room with unhurried confidence, the kind that made everyone glance his way without knowing why. My throat tightened.
"Ms. Williams," he said, his voice smooth, deep. "Congratulations on your keynote. Inspiring."
I blinked. "Thank you. And you are...?"
"Jayden Craig." He extended his hand.
The name tugged at something deep in my memory, but it felt impossible. The boy I once knew could never be this man. This man was... too much.
I shook his hand. Firm, warm. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Craig. Are you in hospitality? Or investment?"
A faint smile touched his lips, but his eyes held secrets. "Technology, actually. But tonight, I'm here as an observer. And, it seems... as an admirer."
I felt heat rush to my cheeks. "Of my speech?"
"Of the woman giving it."
For a moment, silence stretched. The ballroom noise faded into a low hum as I stared at him, caught between curiosity and something I didn't want to name.
I pulled back slightly, needing air. "Well... I'm glad it resonated."
He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he'd already solved. "You've built something remarkable, Adira. But I have a feeling this is only the beginning."
The way he said my name made my chest tighten. Familiar. Too familiar.
"Have we met before?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Jayden's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I'm certain we will again."
Before I could reply, someone tapped my shoulder, pulling me into another introduction. By the time I glanced back, he was gone again.
Leaving only questions and a pulse in my chest I couldn't explain.
Jayden's POV
I almost told her. Almost.
When she asked if we'd met before, my chest burned with the truth. But not yet. She wasn't ready. Not for who I had become. Not for the weight of what I still carried for her.
So I smiled. I walked away.
But as I watched her from across the room, laughing politely at another man's joke, I promised myself:
This time, I wasn't letting fate decide.
This time, I was going to be the one to rewrite our story.