“You need to be careful,” Emma’s voice crackled through the phone, laced with concern and barely-contained irritation. “I looked him up, Sophia. Alexander Draycott isn’t just rich—he’s ruthless. He doesn’t date women. He devours them. And when he’s done, he killed them.”

Sophia closed her eyes and pressed the cool side of her wine glass against her cheek. She sat curled on her couch in the dim light of her living room, the remnants of the gala still swirling in her blood. Her heels were off, her feet aching, but it wasn’t the shoes that made her restless. It was him. The way his voice had slid against her skin like silk wrapped around a blade. The way his eyes had searched her like he was trying to find something hidden even from herself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Emma said, her voice softer now. “That maybe you're the one woman who can tame the monster. But not this one, please.”

“I’m not trying to tame anything,” Sophia murmured, though the words felt like a lie as they left her lips. “I just… I don’t know. There’s something about him.”

“There’s everything about him. And that’s the problem.” Emma sighed. “Promise me you won’t see him again.”

Sophia hesitated. And that was her answer.

Emma knew it too. “Jesus, Soph. Be smart. You left a nightmare behind. Don’t walk into another one just because it wears Armani and knows how to smolder.”

The line went quiet, save for the soft hum of city traffic filtering through the windows. Sophia stared at the black envelope still sitting on her coffee table. She should’ve thrown it away. Should’ve walked out of that gala the moment he whispered those words into her skin.

But she hadn’t. And that meant something. After Emma hung up, Sophia lingered by the door, unsure whether she wanted the night to end or begin again. That was when she saw it: a folded piece of thick, ivory paper pushed halfway beneath her door. No envelope this time. Just a simple note, handwritten in bold, clean strokes:

Tonight. Midnight. Rooftop. Come alone. —A

Her breath caught. She didn’t ask herself if she would go. The decision had already been made deep inside her bones. Midnight arrived with a hush, the kind only cities knew—too quiet to be safe, too loud to be comforting. Sophia’s coat clung to her shoulders as she rode the private elevator in Alexander’s building, the walls of brushed steel reflecting her shadowed face back at her. No buttons. No instructions. It simply rose.

When the doors opened, the rooftop greeted her like a secret. Warm lights spilled from under sleek architectural beams. Low sofas circled a glass fire pit. In the distance, the city glittered like a sea of diamonds thrown across velvet. There was no railing—just invisible barriers that made the edge feel infinite.

Alexander stood near the glass perimeter, his back to her, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tumbler of something amber and burning.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said without turning.

“I didn’t think you cared,”her voice carried on the wind, quiet but firm.

He glanced back, eyes meeting hers. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have left the note.”

Sophia stepped onto the rooftop, the click of her heels sharp against the smooth stone. “Is this how you usually court women? Invitations with no details? Mysterious rooftop rendezvous?”

“No,” he said simply. “I don’t court anyone.”

She paused beside the fire pit, the flames casting gold across his face as he finally turned to face her. The tuxedo was gone. Tonight, he wore black slacks, a dark sweater that clung to his frame like it had been poured onto him, and no shoes. Barefoot. Vulnerable. The contradiction made her throat tighten.

“You’re dangerous,” she said quietly. “People don’t just warn me about you. They beg me to stay away.”

“And yet,” he said, taking a slow step forward, “you came.”

Silence stretched between them like a taut thread, fragile and electric.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” she said. “You barely know me.”

His expression flickered—just for a second. “I know you’ve been running from something. I know you pretend to be fine but flinch when you think no one’s watching. And I know that when I look at you… I see a mirror I didn’t know I was missing.”

Her breath caught. Alexander reached up and touched her hair, not possessively, but as if he needed to confirm she was real. “I don’t do this,” he said, voice low. “I don’t bring people into my world. Not because I can’t—but because it’s ugly. And if you knew the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“I’m still here,” she whispered.

“I know.” His gaze darkened, voice barely audible. “That’s what terrifies me.”

The wind shifted. The air, charged and heavy just moments before, turned colder. Sophia stepped back, dizzy with emotion she didn’t know how to name: lust, fear, longing. All of it knotted inside her like storm clouds ready to burst.

That was when her phone buzzed. She fumbled to pull it from her coat pocket, her pulse still quickening from the nearness of him.

A strange message from an unknown Number: Stay away from him. Or you won’t get another warning.

Her skin went cold. She looked up, but Alexander was already watching her, jaw tight, eyes narrowing.

“Who sent that?” he asked, voice like gravel.

“I don’t know,” she said, holding out the phone.

He didn’t take it. Just turned and walked to the edge again, staring out over the city like it might offer answers.

“Don't worry, I'll look into this,” he said finally. "You go home and rest."

Her breath caught. “I didn't ask for it. I can take care of myself." She adjusted her hair. "I'm a grown woman.”

He looked back, and for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes—not for himself. For her.

"Ok then," he said. "Grown woman handle your problems."