Abigail’s POV
Charles strolled into Fantasy with the kind of easy confidence that immediately drew the eye, his gaze sweeping over the room in that unhurried, detached way of his. I caught sight of him as he moved through the crowd, dressed impeccably in a dark shirt that seemed tailored to every line of his body, his sleeves rolled just enough to hint at the strength beneath.
He moved without hesitation, familiar with the space and completely at ease, a subtle nod to the bouncers and staff as he passed.
Everyone seemed to notice him, and a few heads turned, but he remained nonchalant, his expression revealing nothing of his intentions.
The moment his gaze skimmed over my direction, I felt a sharp pull in my stomach, like the breath had been knocked from my lungs. And yet, he didn’t linger; he looked away just as quickly, as if I were no more than another face in the crowd.