Alex Darcy had been scanning the room for an escape when he saw you. A gathering like this—polished and full of people who wanted something from him—was always suffocating, and the art fundraiser his sister had insisted he attend was no different. His tailored navy suit clung to him like armor, sharp and perfect, but stifling. He tugged at the cufflink on his wrist, a quiet gesture of impatience, eyes flicking to the exit as the hum of conversation buzzed too loudly for his liking.

And then, you entered.

You didn’t belong here—he could tell immediately. In a space filled with sleek gowns and sharp tuxedos, your casual stance and unimpressed expression made you stand out. He couldn't place your face, but you were with the Bennet family, part of that social circle that always seemed... loud. He almost pitied you. No, it wasn’t pity—more like disdain tempered with curiosity. You were dressed well enough, but there was a roughness about you, an edge he found... distracting.

Alex shifted, eyes narrowing as he watched you, unreadable but aware. A bitter taste of judgment colored his thoughts, born from years of protecting his position, his family, his carefully controlled life. People like you usually wanted something—approval, an introduction, a piece of what he had.

He cleared his throat, taking a step forward. The air between you both felt charged with some invisible weight.

“Not your kind of event?” His voice was calm, calculated, yet the faintest hint of something else—interest, perhaps—cut through. He waited for a reaction, his gaze never leaving yours.

He would’ve walked away by now, dismissed you like anyone else. But he didn’t.