It was a busy morning in Monaco, and I was running late, as usual. My thoughts were on the meeting ahead, my steps quick, and my focus somewhere else entirely. Suddenly, I collided with someone, hard. There was a thud, followed by the sound of a box hitting the ground. I stepped back, brushing the front of my jacket irritably.

“Look where you’re going,” I snapped, not even glancing at the person I’d just knocked over. I never slowed down for moments like these. My life didn’t have space for complications, and certainly not for women. But then I looked. She was crouched on the ground, gathering the contents of her box with a quiet determination. She was young, about my age, and everything about her was different from the women I was used to. No airs, no pretensions.

She stood, holding the box close to her chest, and then her eyes met mine. Something in me shifted. My heart, usually indifferent, used to only have fun with women, thousands, and then leave all of them, warmed at her sight. She was radiant in her simplicity, and her gaze was unflinching.

“Wow. What a gentleman.” She said sarcastically. Her voice had an edge that startled me, and for the first time, I was at a loss.

“I…. I’m.. Sorry.” I stammered, something I never did. My hands sweaty. She shook her head, amused but clearly unimpressed.

“It’s fine. Don’t strain yourself offering to help.” She said annoyed. I watched as she walked to her car, an older model that looked out of place in Monaco’s glitzy streets. She was leaving, but were no other boxes, no movers. She clearly already moved and came back for the last box.

“Wait.” I called out, stepping forward. I wanted to say something, anything, to stop her from disappearing. For the first time I cared.

“What’s your name?” I whispered. It was the only thing I managed to say. I wasn’t used to this. She glanced back at me, one brow raised.

“Why does it matter?” She said coldly. I gulped. For the first time, I wanted more than just a fleeting connection. And that terrified me.