Rain and Reverie

The rain had been falling steadily since morning, the kind of cold, relentless drizzle that turned Manhattan into a city of gleaming sidewalks and hissing car tires. Maya Evans stood beneath a black awning outside Café Amour, hugging her coat tighter around her slender frame. The collar was damp against her neck, her curls frizzing in the mist. She sighed, checking the time on her phone. Late again. A familiar frustration prickled at her chest.

Her best friend Talia was never on time. But Maya loved her anyway.

With a resigned exhale, she tucked the phone into her bag and tried to ignore the cold seeping into her bones. She watched as yellow cabs splashed past and pedestrians hurried by, heads bowed against the rain. The city felt alive in a way that made her heart ache; every stranger rushing past had a story, a destination, a reason. She remembered how, once upon a time, she'd dreamed of sharing hers with someone special.

Now, she'd settled for building a career she could call her own.

The door to Café Amour swung open, and a warm gust of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon rolled over her. She stepped aside to let a young couple pass-a tall man with an umbrella and a laughing woman clinging to his arm. Maya looked away sharply. Couples used to make her smile. Now they were a reminder of everything she'd lost.

She shifted, her heel catching on a crack in the pavement. A hand shot out of nowhere, steadying her before she could tumble into the puddle at her feet. She looked up into eyes the color of stormy skies- grey, intense, and framed by dark lashes. The man was tall, with a strong jaw, day-old stubble, and an air of quiet power that made her stomach tighten.

"Are you okay?" His voice was deep, rough, but not unkind.

"Y-yes," she stammered, pulling her arm back. The heat of his hand lingered. "Thank you. I wasn't watching."

"No problem," he said, glancing past her as if looking for someone- or avoiding something. He hesitated, then gave her a polite nod and stepped into the café.

Maya watched the door close behind him, her heart hammering a little faster than it should. She shook herself. Stranger. Handsome stranger, but stranger all the same. She wasn't here for meet-cutes in the rain; she was here to meet Talia, discuss the upcoming event at the Morgan Hotel, and figure out how to land the next client that might finally let her boutique event business break into the big leagues.

Before she could lose herself in more anxious thoughts, a familiar squeal reached her ears. Talia appeared, umbrella flipping inside out as she battled the gusting wind. She was soaked from the knees down but grinning like a maniac.

"Don't say a word," Talia panted as she reached Maya. "I know I'm late. But I brought croissants."

Maya laughed despite herself, taking one of the greasy paper bags. "You're forgiven. Barely."

They ducked inside, the bell above the café door jingling softly. Warmth enveloped them instantly. The café was cozy but elegant, its navy-blue walls lined with shelves of old books and gold-framed photographs of Paris. The air was rich with espresso and vanilla.

As they settled into a corner booth, Maya tried to push thoughts of the mysterious man from her mind. But every time she blinked, she saw those stormy eyes.

"So," Talia said between mouthfuls of croissant, "I have news."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Good news or the kind that ends with me drinking wine at 2 a.m.?"

"Good!" Talia squealed. "My friend Cassidy is helping organize the Morgan Foundation Gala, and they're looking for a fresh face to plan it. I told her all about you. She wants to meet tomorrow."

Maya nearly dropped her coffee. "Wait. The Morgan Foundation Gala? That's the social event of the season. Talia, that's huge."

"I know!" Talia's eyes sparkled. "This could make your name. And Cassidy said the potential client is...particular, but if you impress them, it'll open doors you can't even imagine."

Maya's mind raced. She thought of the tiny desk in her studio apartment, the crumpled receipts she was still trying to sort into a budget, the late nights spent drafting proposals only to be told she wasn't established enough. This could be the break she'd worked so hard for.

She felt a flutter of hope-an emotion she'd almost forgotten.

"When and where?" she asked.

"Tomorrow. 10 a.m. Morgan Tower. Be amazing."

They spent the next hour discussing potential themes-glamorous winter wonderlands, masquerade balls, celestial nights-but Maya couldn't shake a sense of unease. "You said the client is particular?"

Talia hesitated. "Yeah, rumor is he's...complicated. Brilliant, but guarded. People say he's been through a lot."

Maya nodded, forcing a smile. She could handle complicated. She'd planned a wedding where the bride and mother-in-law refused to be in the same room. She'd survived the worst breakup of her life. She could do this.

After hugging Talia goodbye, she stepped outside into the rain, which had finally slowed to a soft mist. The city lights shimmered on wet streets like diamonds scattered across black velvet. She felt a surge of determination. Tomorrow was her chance.

---

Ryan Carter stood at the window of his office on the top floor of Morgan Tower, the glass cool against his palm as he looked down at the city glittering in the night. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but his mind was a storm.

He hated the gala.

Every year, his sister insisted on hosting it to benefit the Morgan Foundation's children's programs. And every year, he felt like a marionette forced to dance in front of people who only cared about his money.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. He hadn't wanted to get involved, but this year Cassidy was determined. "We need someone fresh," she'd said. "Someone creative. Someone who won't treat this like just another society event."

A knock at his office door pulled him from his thoughts. Cassidy peeked in. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek bun, and she carried a folder.

"I met with a candidate today," she said, dropping the folder on his desk. "Her name is Maya Evans. She comes highly recommended."

He flipped the folder open, scanning the resume. Photos of elegant weddings, charity dinners, and intimate parties decorated the pages. His eyes caught on one picture of a rooftop garden strung with fairy lights-a simple, magical scene.

"I want her here tomorrow morning," he said.

Cassidy's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That fast?"

"I don't have time for endless interviews," he said curtly. "If she can prove herself, we'll move forward. If not, we find someone else."

He turned back to the window, watching as the reflection of the city lights flickered across the rain-speckled glass. He didn't know why, but something about the photos-about her work-had stirred a memory, a fleeting sense of possibility. But he pushed it away. He couldn't afford distractions.

---

The next morning dawned clear and cold, the rain a memory replaced by sharp blue skies. Maya stood in the marble lobby of Morgan Tower, clutching her leather portfolio. She'd spent half the night revising mood boards and reworking budgets. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, but her heart was steady.

As the receptionist escorted her to a private elevator, she went over her notes one last time. Morgan Tower was sleek and imposing, its glass and steel reflecting the morning light. The elevator ride felt endless, each floor a silent countdown to what might be the most important meeting of her life.

When the doors finally opened, she stepped into a minimalist office filled with pale wood, chrome, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. Cassidy greeted her warmly, then gestured to the man standing by the window.

It was him.

The stranger from the café.

He turned, and his grey eyes met hers. Surprise flickered there for an instant before it was replaced by cool professionalism.

"This is Ryan Carter," Cassidy said. "He's the chairman of the Morgan Foundation. Ryan, this is Maya Evans."

He held out his hand. "Ms. Evans," he said evenly.

She took it, trying to ignore the electricity that zipped up her arm at his touch. "Mr. Carter. Thank you for seeing me."

"Let's sit," he said, gesturing to a sleek conference table.

Maya laid out her ideas with calm precision. She talked about creating an immersive experience for the guests-about lighting, textures, and emotional storytelling that would leave donors inspired. She showed sketches of enchanted winter gardens and shimmering crystal chandeliers, detailed timelines and cost breakdowns.

But as she spoke, she felt his eyes on her, sharp and unreadable. Every time their gazes met, her words faltered. She wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart.

When she finished, there was a heavy silence. Ryan's fingers drummed lightly on the table. His eyes bored into hers, as if he was searching for something deeper than a plan or a budget.

"Why do you do this?" he asked finally. His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Why events? Why not something...simpler?"

She hesitated, then answered honestly. "Because I believe moments matter. Memories matter. I want people to walk away from an event feeling like they experienced something extraordinary-something they'll carry with them. I think the world needs more wonder."

For a moment, something shifted in his eyes, like a crack in a wall letting in a sliver of light.

"Cassidy will be in touch," he said abruptly, standing.

She rose, heart sinking a little at the dismissal. But as she gathered her things, she saw him watching her, his expression unreadable.

---

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Maya let out a shaky breath. She didn't know if she'd impressed him. She didn't know if she'd just met the man who could change her future-or the one who might break her heart.

All she knew was that when their eyes had locked, something had passed between them. Something dangerous. Something irresistible... And it terrified her.

---