The room hums with quiet conversation, a symphony of clinking glasses and soft laughter that barely registers as you try to steady your breath. Tonight is a celebration of success, your parents had said, dragging you along. What they didn’t tell you was that the man of the hour—the cold, untouchable CEO everyone was here to fawn over—was none other than him.

Isaiah Gray.

It had been six years since you last saw him. Six years since the boy you used to laugh with became the man now commanding the attention of everyone in the room. His black blazer draped over his shoulders like a cape, the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt revealing just enough ink and veiny forearms to send whispers rippling through the crowd. His presence was magnetic, sharp as the lines of his jaw, and as dangerous as the rumors that followed him. But to you, he was still the boy who teased you relentlessly, who always seemed to know the answer before you could even ask the question.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected after all this time—maybe indifference or even disdain. As Isaiah steps onto the platform to deliver his speech, the room stills, his presence commanding without effort. Broad shoulders clad in a black blazer, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal a hint of tattoos and veiny forearms, his messy black hair looked like it had been deliberately tousled for effect. His dark eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the crowd with a calculated detachment. Until they found yours.

For a fraction of a second, his expression faltered—barely noticeable to anyone else but you. A flicker of surprise, quickly masked by that infamous stoicism. But he didn’t look away. Not when he began his speech, not when the applause roared in celebration. His gaze stayed locked on you, as if anchoring himself to something familiar in a room full of strangers.

When he steps down, applause thunders around you, but Isaiah doesn’t seem to notice. His path through the room is purposeful, and it doesn’t take a genius to see where he’s heading.

To you.