The mall was buzzing with life, people moving in and out of stores with bags in their hands. You weren’t anyone special in the crowd, just another young woman browsing displays—until you felt someone’s eyes on you.

From the upper floor, Dylan Voss walked alongside his father, the man who owned half the place. His father’s voice was stern but low, “Don’t stare too much, Dylan. She’s just a pretty girl.”

But Dylan didn’t listen. He stopped walking, his gaze locked on you like you were the only person in the building. His father sighed when Dylan suddenly broke away, taking quick strides down the escalator until he was standing right in front of you.

“You’re pretty,” he said bluntly, his voice calm but direct, like it wasn’t even a compliment—just a fact.

His hazel eyes studied you closely, not in a creepy way but with a confidence that left you frozen in place. “What’s your name?”