Chapter 1: The Man in the Black Suit

The rain hadn’t stopped all morning. It turned the city into a blur of neon lights and cold reflections — the kind of day that smelled like bad luck.

Aria Blake ran through the crowd, dodging umbrellas and puddles as she tried to protect the stack of papers pressed against her chest. Her cheap heels slipped once, twice. “Please don’t let me die before my first interview,” she muttered, half-panting.

The café on 7th Avenue glowed warm and golden inside. Aria pushed through the door — crash! Her shoulder slammed into someone solid, and her papers scattered like white birds.

Then came the smell of coffee. Hot, bitter, and spilled — all over a stranger’s black suit.

“Oh my God!” Aria froze, staring at the spreading stain. “I am so, so sorry!”

The man looked down at her, calm in a way that felt dangerous. He was tall — at least a head taller than her — with slick dark hair and eyes sharp enough to slice through excuses. His tie was midnight blue, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he spoke, voice smooth as velvet.

“You owe me a suit.”

Aria blinked. “You—what? You were the one standing in the doorway!”

He arched an eyebrow. “And you were the one running like a criminal.”

“I was late,” she snapped. “For something important.”

He smirked. “Ah. So that makes me collateral damage.”

Aria’s face burned. “Look, I can pay for the cleaning—”

He took the napkin from her shaking hand and dabbed at the stain himself. “Don’t bother. I can afford a new one.”

“Good,” she shot back, folding her arms. “Then we’re done here.”

He chuckled, low and amused. “Bold. Most people apologize until I let them go.”

“Then I’m not most people.”

He studied her for a heartbeat too long, eyes tracing her damp hair, the stubborn set of her jaw. “I can see that.”

Aria blinked, suddenly aware of how close they were. His voice had the kind of softness that didn’t match his expensive suit — or the faint scar that crossed his jaw.

He turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder once more. “Try not to knock over anyone dangerous next time, Miss…?”

“Blake,” she said automatically.

“Aria Blake,” he repeated, as if tasting the name. “I’ll remember that.”

And then he was gone — out into the rain, leaving her standing in a puddle of embarrassment.

---

By the time Aria reached her office, she had almost convinced herself to forget him. But fate, apparently, had a cruel sense of humor.

Her boss, Mr. Levin, didn’t even look up when she burst into the cramped newsroom. “You’re late, Blake.”

“I know, I—”

He shoved a folder toward her. “Here’s your next story. A profile piece on the Voss family. Rumors say they’re connected to Crescent City’s underground. I want facts.”

Aria flipped open the file, still catching her breath — and froze. The photo clipped inside showed a familiar face. Dark hair. Cold smile. Sharp eyes.

Adrian Voss.

The man from the café.

Her stomach dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Levin frowned. “Problem?”

“No,” she said quickly, closing the file. “None at all.”

But as she stared at Adrian’s picture, she couldn’t shake the feeling that his smirk — even in a photograph — was laughing at her.

---

That night, Aria sat in her small apartment, laptop open, typing furiously. Her notes scattered across the bed — half facts, half guesses.

Adrian Voss — 25, rumored heir to the Voss Syndicate.

Family fortune in real estate, shipping, and probably illegal activities.

Disappeared from public eye for a year after his mother’s death.

The more she read, the less sense he made. Some called him a philanthropist; others called him a criminal. A man with two faces.

She sighed and leaned back. “You owe me a suit,” she mimicked under her breath, rolling her eyes. “Arrogant jerk.”

Her phone buzzed — a message from her best friend, Mia.

> Mia: “Hey, you alive? Still chasing dangerous men for headlines?”

Aria: “Always. This one might actually kill me with his ego.”

Mia: “So you like him already 😂”

Aria: “Shut up.”

Aria laughed, the tension easing for a moment. But when she looked back at Adrian’s picture, something in his eyes pulled her in again — curiosity, maybe. Or danger disguised as charm.

She told herself it didn’t matter. She was a journalist. He was a story. End of discussion.

---

The next morning, she found herself standing outside the tall glass tower labeled Voss Industries.

Her reflection stared back — raincoat, notebook, nerves. She squared her shoulders and walked inside.

The lobby was silent except for the echo of her heels. People moved like shadows — expensive suits, blank faces. She approached the front desk.

“Good morning,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m here to schedule an interview with Mr. Voss.”

The receptionist barely looked up. “Mr. Voss doesn’t do interviews.”

Aria frowned. “He might make an exception.”

“Unlikely.”

And then, a voice behind her — warm, amused, and familiar.

“Let her in.”

Aria turned. Adrian Voss stood a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, that same infuriating smile curling his lips.

“Miss Blake,” he said smoothly. “We meet again.”

Her throat went dry. “Don’t tell me you actually remembered my name.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Hard to forget the woman who baptized me in espresso.”

Aria wanted to roll her eyes, but his closeness made her pulse skip. “I’m here for a story.”

He smiled, eyes glinting. “Then you came to the right place.”

Before she could reply, he turned to the receptionist. “Send her to my office.”

The woman looked shocked but nodded. Aria followed him through the marble hallway, her mind racing.

This was it — her big chance. Her story. Her redemption.

She didn’t notice the way Adrian glanced at her over his shoulder, a hint of danger — and something else — flickering in his gaze.

---

When the elevator doors closed, silence wrapped around them.

Adrian leaned against the wall, watching her. “So, Miss Blake. Tell me… how far are you willing to go for the truth?”

She met his eyes. “As far as it takes.”

He smiled — a dark, knowing smile that sent a chill through her.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because the truth about me… isn’t safe.”

The elevator dinged open.

And as Aria stepped into his office, she realized she might have just walked straight into the lion’s den.

— End of Chapter 1 —

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