helena___11
"You've been following me, haven't you?"
The accusation stops me cold in the middle of the hotel foyer. I blink at him-tall, infuriatingly self-assured, with that kind of face that knows it's admired-and for a second I'm too stunned to respond.
"You're not very discreet," he adds, eyes narrowing, smirk spreading across his lips, as if he's already solved the case. "If you wanted a picture, you could've just asked instead of trailing me from the plane."
Oh. Oh, he did not just say that.
How dare he.
He thinks the world revolves around him.
And unfortunately for me... it seems determined to prove him right.
One minute, I'm minding my own business in a lavish international hotel. The next, I'm being accused-accused-of stalking a man whose ego is bigger than the entire building. Yevgeny Ivanov: sharp-tongued, insufferably confident, and far too used to people falling at his feet.
I don't.
And that's exactly what gets under his skin.
What starts as a ridiculous misunderstanding quickly turns into something far more dangerous-a clash of pride, wit, and tempers that refuse to bend. He calls me bold. I call him unbearable. He pushes. I push harder.
But the worst part?
I can't seem to walk away.
Because the hotel isn't just a hotel.
Because Yevgeny Ivanov isn't just a stranger.
And because the line between hatred and something else is starting to blur in ways I never expected.
In a world of luxury, secrets, and dangerously close encounters, one thing becomes clear:
If he's a storm-
Then I might just be the only one reckless enough to stand in it.