Consumed By The Flames of Love

Chapter One

The café on Fifth Street buzzed with quiet conversations, the clink of coffee cups, and the soft hum of indie music floating through the speakers. But to Nadia, the world faded to white noise the moment he walked in.

She was halfway through her latte when he appeared—a dark figure silhouetted against the glass door, the morning sun framing his shape like a halo. His black leather jacket glimmered with raindrops, his sharp jaw covered with just enough stubble to make him look effortlessly untamed. His dark eyes scanned the room, and in that split second, they landed on her.

Nadia's breath hitched.

He didn't linger—just a passing glance, quick and indifferent—but it was enough. Enough to brand him into her mind like a searing flame. Ethan Voss. She'd learn his name later, but for now, he was a stranger wrapped in mystery and danger, the kind of man who could ruin a person if they let him.

And Nadia was ready to be ruined.

She watched as he approached the counter with an easy, confident stride, ordering black coffee in a deep voice that slid like silk against her ears. No sugar. No cream. Just dark, like him. He leaned against the counter as he waited, his hands tucked into his pockets, radiating a quiet, unshakeable calm. He didn't know—how could he?—that a girl at the corner table had already begun building a life with him inside her mind.

Nadia bit her lip, her hands trembling as she gripped the paper cup. This wasn't like her. She was the quiet one, the invisible girl in every room, a shadow at the edge of someone else's story. But now, staring at him, she felt something awaken inside her—a hunger she didn't know she was capable of. A need so sharp it left her aching.

He's the one.

The thought came unbidden, but it felt true. She knew it in her bones. She could already picture it: their first kiss under dim streetlights, his breath warm against her skin, the whispered promises of forever. She imagined waking up next to him, tracing the lines of his tattoos with her fingers, watching his chest rise and fall beneath soft morning light. He'd call her baby, she'd call him hers.

Forever.

The fantasy unfurled like a flower, vivid and complete, until the harsh sound of a barista calling out, "Ethan!" shattered it. Nadia jolted as he grabbed his coffee and turned toward the door, unaware of the world he had just ignited inside her.

He passed her table again, so close that she could smell the faint scent of leather and pine clinging to his clothes. For a second, she thought about speaking—a word, a hello, anything—but her tongue felt heavy, her heart pounding too loud for her to think straight.

And then, just like that, he was gone. The door swung shut behind him, the bell above it giving a soft jingle. Nadia's hand clutched the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.

She couldn't let him disappear. Not now. Not ever.

He was hers. He just didn't know it yet.

Her phone buzzed on the table, but she ignored it, her mind already spiraling with plans. She would find him. It wouldn't be hard—men like him leave clues without realizing it. A tagged photo, a place he visits regularly, the curve of a routine that she could slip inside.

She took a deep breath and sipped her latte, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. This was how it started.

Nadia didn't know exactly where this obsession would lead, only that she wouldn't stop until Ethan was hers. Completely.

And as she finished the last sip of her coffee, the thought settled into her mind like a promise.

If she couldn't have him, no one could.