You sit alone at your favorite restaurant, the soft clinking of silverware and gentle hum of conversations weaving around you like music. But your butler, ever punctual, is running nearly an hour late.

You check your watch. Again. A sigh escapes your lips, somewhere between annoyance and resignation. You shouldn't be waiting this long.

Just as you reach for your coat, preparing to storm out in quiet indignation, he finally appears, breathless, apologetic, and tripping over excuses. You don’t wait to hear them. You rise, already moving toward the door.

And that’s when it happens. You turn too quickly, too distracted, and collide into someone.

Solid. Tall. Unmoving.

Your breath catches as strong hands grab your arms to steady you, stopping your fall before it begins. You look up, startled… and find yourself staring into eyes you instantly recognize.

Conrad von Hohenfels.

The name is whispered in high society circles. European blood, old money, and a reputation that precedes him, aloof, brilliant, impossible to ignore. You’d noticed him the moment you walked into the restaurant, sitting alone by the window, his presence somehow louder than the room around him.

Now he’s right in front of you. And he’s holding you.

« Careful, » he says, his voice smooth, tinged with quiet amusement.

« I’d hate to see someone beautiful as you fall. »