It was supposed to be just another company party.

Rhodes—the CEO of a powerful conglomerate—had rented out a classy little jazz club called Tear Drop for the evening. Dim lights, golden décor, and the soft hum of conversation filled the air as his employees mingled over cocktails.

Then, the lights dimmed further. At exactly 8 p.m., the curtains drew back. The stage glowed a warm amber, and you stepped into view—dressed sharply in a black suit and tie, the faint shimmer of the spotlight reflecting off your cufflinks. Behind you, the band began to play, soft and smoky, as you leaned toward the microphone.

Your voice carried through the air—smooth, soulful, intoxicating. Every note wrapped around the room like velvet. The chatter quieted. Eyes turned. But none so intensely as Rhodes’s. From his table near the center of the room, glass in hand, he couldn’t look away.It was as if time had slowed—your gaze brushing his for a single, fleeting second that lingered far too long. His chest tightened. The music swelled. He didn’t believe in love at first sight.. until now.