Chapter 3: Shadows in the Spotlight

Grayson Hayes Grayson walked into his penthouse, shutting the door behind him. He stood there for a while before finally making some steps forward.He loosened his tie and stepped deeper into the living room, walking very slowly as if intentional. Then it hit him; the image, the scent, her silent moans. Everything about her.The girl from last night.He hadn’t meant to touch her at first. Hadn’t planned on wanting her.But the moment she’d slipped under the covers, hesitant and trembling, something in him had shifted. She was soft. Warm. And when their eyes met in the darkness, something unfamiliar bloomed in his chest, like tenderness. A feeling he hadn’t allowed himself in years.He remembered kissing her forehead first. Then her collarbone. Her skin had tasted like fear and something sweeter. Like innocence.He wasn’t usually gentle. Not since the world had proven that softness was weakness. But with her, he had taken his time. Wrapped her trembling frame in his arms. Let his fingers trace the curve of her waist, his lips explore every inch of her body.It had been the best night he'd had in a long, long time.He found himself smiling, briefly.The smile vanished as fast as it appeared.He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Water pounded against his muscles, but the tension in his shoulders refused to fade. He could stop thinking about it all. Her scent, her moans. The slight arch of her back when he whispered into her ear.He shouldn't be thinking about her.She was a mistake. A night. A misstep in his otherwise calculated life.Dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a black shirt, he drove himself to Hayes International headquarters. The moment he stepped through the glass doors, his assistant, Camille, was already rushing toward him, tablet in hand.“Mr. Hayes,” she said breathlessly, keeping up with his long strides. “Mr. Delacroix is threatening to pull his shares. He’s not answering our calls, and...”Grayson stopped mid-step, face hardening. “Who called him?”Camille flinched. “We didn’t, sir. But we believe Mrs. Hayes might have...”“Of course she did.” His jaw clenched. “I’ll handle it.”He stormed out before she could speak again.Back at his family’s estate, he entered the grand living room where his stepmother lounged on an ivory sofa, swirling wine in a crystal glass like royalty. Her smile was anything but maternal.“You look stressed,” she said sweetly, raising her glass. “Too many late nights?”“Cut the crap, Miranda,” he snapped. “You told Delacroix something. You’re trying to force my hand.”She stood, moving toward him slowly. “Oh, Grayson, always so intense. You think just because your name is on the building, you’re untouchable?”“I earned my name,” he growled.She leaned closer, her perfume cloying and sharp. “You could’ve just died with your mother back then. Then this whole issue would've been resolved.”His fists clenched. Her smirk widened.“I’m not done,” he said through gritted teeth. “And neither are you.”**********Amelia Raine Three weeks had passed since the night that changed everything.The ache between her thighs was gone, but the memory stayed. Not with regret, oddly, but with quiet reflection. She’d lost something that night, but she’d also gained a piece of power. Power she didn’t fully understand yet.Her sister, Elena, had gone through the surgery successfully, thanks to an anonymous grant. Their parents had cried over the phone, swearing it was God’s miracle. Amelia hadn’t corrected them. She didn’t tell them about the money sitting untouched in her account. It didn’t matter now. Elena was home, running through fields with their dog and laughing again.Amelia's own life had resumed its routine. She clocked in and out of the Midtown media agency where she worked as a journalist, buried herself in editing articles and organizing event coverage schedules.But that night kept haunting her.Not with shame, but with questions.She still didn’t know who he was. Leah had been tight-lipped ever since the hotel fiasco. And Amelia hadn’t pressed.This morning, the office buzzed with excitement. Rumors went around about a high-profile celebrity event hosted by one of the hottest names in entertainment; Camryn DeLane.Their editor clapped his hands as the team gathered for their daily briefing."Okay, okay, okay. Everyone gather round" he started with his usual hoarse voice.“DeLane’s event is tonight. We need two staff reporters there. Leah, Amelia, you’re on it.”Of course.Everyone turned toward her. Leah gave her a quick wink. Amelia managed a tight smile.By 7 PM, they were inside the ballroom of the Grand Astoria Hotel. Everywhere was screaming luxury. Expensive drinks were served by the waiter. The name was quite too long for her to pronounce. A live jazz band was somewhere in a corner playing cool music. Celebrities came in designer gowns and suits. Amelia moved like a shadow through the room, filming segments, taking notes, snapping photos for their digital feed.She smiled when required. Nodded politely. But her head was spinning. Maybe from the champagne she’d downed too fast. Or maybe from the lights, the crowd, the subtle pressure of pretending to belong.By 9 PM, she felt it, the full weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. She needed a break.“Leah, I’ll be back,” she said over the music.Her heels clicked against the marble floors as she made her way down the corridor in search of a restroom.She turned a corner, saw the restroom sign, and pushed the door open quickly.Inside, it was silent. Cool. She sighed in relief, stepping into a stall and sitting down, finally letting her body relax.Then she heard the sound. The door creaked. She heard footsteps. Too heavy for a female's footsteps.Her body stiffened.The voice that followed was male. It was low, like he was cursing under his breath.She panicked. It was the wrong restroom!Before she could react, the footsteps paused outside her stall. Then came a knock.“Hello? This is the men’s room.”Her heart leapt into her throat.“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” she blurted, flushing and scrambling to her feet.She yanked the door open, and screamed.So did he.He was tall. Tall enough that she stumbled back instinctively. Dark brown hair. Pale eyes. Wearing a tailored suit that fit too well. He held a half-full glass of whiskey and looked just as stunned as she did.“You’re definitely not supposed to be here,” he muttered.“I didn’t know!” she exclaimed, red-faced. “I wasn’t paying attention and...”They stared at each other for a beat too long.“You okay?” he asked, setting his drink down on the marble counter.She nodded too quickly. “Yes. I’m just… sorry. This is humiliating.”“Honestly,” he smirked, “I’ve had worse things happen in a restroom.”She couldn’t help but laugh, a quick, breathy sound that surprised her.“I should go,” she said, trying to edge past him.But as she reached for the door, he spoke again.“Hey. You look familiar.”She froze.Her back was to him.“No,” she said quietly. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”“Maybe,” he replied. But there was hesitation in his voice.She pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway, her heart hammering.She didn’t recognize him.But his face, like someone she'd seen years ago. She needed air.Outside, the rain had begun again. It was in droplets this time. Amelia stood in front on the restroom's way, her hands clutched beside her, her hair curling slightly from the moisture.She glanced behind her.No sign of the man.Still… why did he feel familiar?Her thoughts were racing. Leah came running toward her, breathless. “Where the hell have you been? We need to get the final shots before they start the speeches.”“I just… needed a second.”“You’re flushed,” Leah said, narrowing her eyes. “You okay?”Amelia shook her head and smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just got lost for a second.”But inside her, something stirred."Yes! It is he!" A thought had struck her, she finally remembered.