A Kiss In The Dark

"Where are we?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with awe. The world around us was cloaked in twilight, dreamlike and thick with warmth. We stood in the middle of an abandoned street that shimmered like it had been dipped in gold. There were no cars, no buildings - just stars above and a warm breeze brushing through me like silk.

"I don't know," the man murmured from behind me. His breath was warm against my neck, and his voice... it wasn't familiar. It was something else. Something I didn't want to wake up from. "But if you're here... I don't care."

I turned slowly, aching to see his face, but the shadows refused to let me. They danced over his features like secrets, refusing to reveal what I most wanted to see.

"Who are you?" I asked, my heart fluttering with every word.

"That doesn't matter," he whispered. His fingertips grazed the bare skin of my arm, trailing slowly down as if memorizing it. "Not now. Not when everything else feels this right."

His touch was grounding and intoxicating all at once. My pulse stuttered under his fingertips. There was something wild and yet deeply familiar about him - a gravity that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.

"I shouldn't feel this way," I said, searching his shadowed face. "I don't even know you."

"Then let me show you."

He leaned in.

His lips touched mine with the kind of patience that unraveled me. Slow. Deliberate. His kiss stole my name, my thoughts - every ounce of logic I had left. I melted into him, fingers curled against his chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart like it was syncing with mine.

He cupped my cheek like I was something fragile and rare. My skin burned where he touched me. My whole body ached for more. It wasn't just physical - it was emotional, spiritual. Like my soul had been waiting for this moment across lifetimes.

But then-

Bang!

A gunshot cracked through the stillness.

I gasped and pulled back, heartbeat wild in my chest. "What was that?"

His eyes - the only part of his face I could clearly see now - narrowed. Storm-gray. Intense. Familiar?

"Go," he said, turning sharply. "Don't look back. Just run."

"No-wait!" I reached for him, but his form began to blur, dissolving into the shadows.

"Aveline!"

My name echoed like thunder-

I shot up in bed, my sheets twisted around me like I'd been fighting something in my sleep. My breathing was ragged. My lips still tingled. I touched them, dazed.

It was a dream.

Just a dream.

The morning sun crept in through the blinds, casting stripes of gold across my white duvet. The ceiling stared back at me, silent, uncaring, while I tried to remember the man's face.

There was none.

Just emotion. Just touch. Just... intensity.

I blinked the sleep away and reached for my phone. A notification buzzed on the lock screen:

Welcome Ceremony - Dever Holdings. 8:00 AM.

"Right. The new CEO," I muttered, flopping back into my pillow. "Better not be half as complicated as the man in my dream."

Still dazed, I dragged myself from bed and reached for my robe. "Coffee. Then war paint," I mumbled.

I raced through my morning like I was being chased by all the poor choices I'd ever made. Toast in one hand, eyeliner in the other. The kettle screamed as I shoved my feet into heels that hated me.

Breakfast consisted of two bites and three sips of coffee that tasted like it had been brewed in disappointment. My eyeliner wings were at war - one sharp enough to kill, the other looking like it gave up halfway through life.

"Brilliant," I sighed at my reflection.

My bag, overstuffed with files I'd meant to organize last week, was slung over my shoulder as I darted out of the apartment. Outside, the chill slapped me fully awake. Pelham was just beginning to stir - a city caught between its heartbeat and the next inhale. Bakery windows glowed warm, buses hissed along the curbs, and I barely caught one before it closed.

I collapsed into a window seat, breathless, heart still echoing the rhythm of that kiss.

Today wasn't just any Monday.

It was his Monday.

Lucian Vale.

The name alone sent a ripple through the company the moment the announcement hit. The prodigal heir to Dever Holdings. A shadow of scandal. A legacy steeped in whispers and silence. They said he was exiled after a tragedy no one dared speak of. Murder, some said. No one ever said it to his face.

And I was the lucky one assigned to welcome him.

No pressure.

---

Time stopped when he walked into the building.

Lucian Vale didn't need to be introduced. You felt him before you saw him. The hush in the lobby. The way every head turned.

He was tall. Unapologetically tall. And dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that sculpted him like armor. His dark hair was still damp from the rain, slicked back effortlessly. The scar above his brow was faint but sharp, like it had a story of its own.

But it was his eyes that did it.

Steel-gray. Piercing. Eyes that had seen too much, trusted too little, and dared anyone to ask why.

I stood behind the reception desk, trying not to fidget.

"Go," my supervisor whispered from the corner. "You're his secretary now. Make a good first impression."

My heels clicked like gunshots on the marble as I stepped forward. Lucian's gaze shifted to me - all at once.

"Mr. Vale," I said, offering my hand. "I'm Aveline Cross. Your secretary."

His eyes swept over me. Not lecherous, not even curious. Calculating.

He took my hand. Warm. Strong. Too real.

"I hope you're good at keeping secrets, Miss Cross," he said, voice like low thunder.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Being my secretary isn't a safe job."

And just like that, he walked past me.

Like the dream man. Like the shadows. Gone too fast.

My heart was still recovering when I heard his voice again, amused now.

"Aren't you supposed to show me to my office?"

"Oh-yes. Yes, sir."

I hurried after him, nearly tripping. My heel caught.

"Whoa-!"

Before I could hit the ground, a firm hand caught my waist. I looked up - and froze.

Lucian.

Close. Too close.

His hand gripped me, anchoring me. His face inches from mine.

"You okay?"

His voice didn't sound as cold now. More like velvet laced with steel.

"I-yes. Thank you."

I scrambled to my feet, brushing invisible dust from my skirt.

He watched me for a second. Then said, "Careful. That floor's not as polished as your resume."

Was that a joke?

Before I could ask, he turned again, striding toward the elevator. I followed, breath short.

In the silence of the lift, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

And I wondered - had I just met the storm I dreamed about?

Had I just stepped into a fire I wouldn't be able to walk away from?