A Second Encounter

A week had passed since the gallery event, and Isabella had nearly convinced herself that Alexander Drake was just another fleeting moment in her life—until she saw him again.

She was at the café where she worked part-time, scrubbing a coffee-stained table, lost in her thoughts. The rhythmic motion of the cloth against the wood was almost soothing, a mindless task that allowed her to push away the nagging thoughts of missed opportunities and unspoken words.

Then, the soft chime of the doorbell rang.

She glanced up instinctively, her breath hitching the moment her eyes landed on the man who had been haunting her thoughts.

Alexander.

The sight of him standing in the doorway sent an unsteady tremor through her. He looked just as effortlessly polished as before, dressed in a charcoal gray suit that seemed almost out of place in the cozy café. Yet, somehow, he **belonged**—commanding attention even in a room full of strangers. His presence was magnetic, the kind that made people look twice.

For a fleeting second, Isabella considered pretending she hadn’t seen him. Maybe if she turned away quickly enough, he’d get the hint and leave. But before she could react, their eyes met.

And this time, she didn’t look away.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest.

Alexander smirked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his expensive slacks. "Getting coffee. Isn’t that what people do in cafés?"

She narrowed her eyes, skepticism creeping into her expression. "There are a hundred cafés in this city. You picked this one?"

His smirk deepened, an almost teasing glint in his eyes. "Maybe I was looking for something… raw and honest."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she hated how easily he could throw her off balance. What did that even mean?Was he mocking her? Testing her? She couldn’t tell.

Before she could demand a real answer, the voice of her boss broke through the moment.

"Isabella! We need you at the counter."

She swallowed her frustration, forcing herself to focus. With one last glance at Alexander, she turned away, heading toward the register.

By the time she finished taking a customer’s order and turned back toward the dining area, he was gone.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment settled in her chest. Of course, he wouldn’t wait. Men like Alexander didn’t waste time lingering.

But as she approached the table where he had been standing, something caught her eye.

A single napkin lay folded neatly on the polished surface.

Frowning, she picked it up and unfolded it, revealing a simple yet powerful message written in elegant handwriting:

"Your art deserves more than survival. Let me help. - A.D."

Her fingers tightened around the napkin as she reread the words, her mind racing.

Who did he think he was? What the f*ck does he even know about what she deserves.

Moreover, she didn't need saving.

Did she?

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