Chapter 5

Violet had always been a dreamer, lost in her own world of colors and sketches, but never before had a single moment refused to leave her mind the way this one did.

It had been days since the encounter. Days since the rain-soaked pages of her sketchbook had been ruined. Days since she had stood frozen, gripping the wet paper against her chest, her heart pounding for reasons she didn't want to examine.

And yet, he lingered.

The man in the black coat.

His eyes—sharp, piercing, almost unreadable—had looked at her as if seeing something no one else had. There had been no words, no explanations, just that brief, intense moment before he had walked away, disappearing into the city.

Why couldn't she stop thinking about it?

She shook her head, forcing her focus back on the present. She had classes to attend, commissions to finish, and no time to be distracted by a stranger.

But even as she tried to immerse herself in work, the image of him crept in at the most inconvenient times. In the middle of a lecture, while shading a portrait, even as she drank her coffee in the studio—her mind would wander back to the way he had handed her the sketchbook, the way he had walked away like he belonged to another world entirely.

Her professor's voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to reality.

"Violet?"

She blinked, realizing Professor Edward was watching her expectantly. The rest of the students had already begun packing their things.

"Sorry, what?" she asked, hastily setting her pencil down.

"You've been lost in your head all day. What's going on?" The older man sighed, crossing his arms. 

"Nothing, just... tired," she lied.

Edward gave her a knowing look but didn't press further. Instead, he leaned back against his desk and said, "Well, if you want something to wake you up, I have some news that might do the trick."

"News?" Violet frowned. 

"I spoke with an agent who's been looking for artists to collaborate on an interior design project. He saw some of your work at the last exhibition and was impressed. He thinks you'd be a great fit."

"Wait—what?" Violet sat up straighter. 

"I figured that would get your attention. He wants to meet with you. It's a high-profile project, and if things work out, this could be huge for you," Edward smirked. 

"You're serious?" her heart pounded. 

"As a heart attack."

For a moment, she just stared at him, processing his words. Then, excitement surged through her. This was it—her chance to prove herself, to break into something bigger.

She all but ran out of the classroom, phone in hand, ready to tell the only two people who would truly understand how much this meant to her.

Liam and Kathy.

Violet burst into the small café, nearly toppling over a chair in her excitement. Her best friends, already seated at their usual booth, turned toward her in alarm.

"Jesus, Vi! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Kathy placed a hand over her chest. 

"Judging by your entrance, either you won the lottery or set something on fire. Which one is it?" Liam arched an eyebrow. 

"Neither. But listen to this—I got offered a project. A huge one. A real, professional interior design collaboration!" Violet slid into the booth, breathless. 

"Are you serious?!" Kathy gasped. 

"I guess the art gods finally decided to cut you a break," Liam smirked. 

"I still can't believe it. Professor Edward told me an agent was interested after seeing my work. I have a meeting tomorrow!" Violet grinned. 

"Vi, this is amazing! You've been waiting for an opportunity like this forever," Kathy reached across the table, grabbing her hands. 

"You deserve it. And knowing you, you're already overthinking it, but don't. Just go in there and own it," Liam nodded. 

"Yeah... yeah, I will," Violet exhaled, her excitement giving way to nervous energy. 

She had no idea that the moment she stepped into that office, fate had another twist waiting for her.

The next day, Violet arrived at the towering Sinclair Architectural Firm, nerves coiling in her stomach.

She clutched the strap of her bag as she entered the sleek, modern lobby, overwhelmed by the scale of it all. The receptionist directed her toward the meeting room, where she was told to wait.

Violet sat in one of the chairs, tapping her fingers against her knee. She had always imagined what her first big professional meeting would feel like, but nothing had prepared her for the weight of this moment.

And then, true to her nature, she managed to make a mess of things.In her attempt to reach for her phone, her elbow knocked over a neat stack of documents resting on the receptionist's desk. Papers flew in every direction, landing on the polished floor and in her panic to pick them up quickly, she misjudged her movement, nearly knocking over the glass of water beside her."Shit," she muttered under her breath, scrambling to gather everything.

A low chuckle sounded from nearby.

She froze.

Slowly, she looked up—and her breath caught.

Standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the doorframe, was him.

The man from the rain. Ethan Sinclair.

He spotted her the moment he entered the waiting area, her red hair catching the morning light like a streak of fire, and then, in a way that seemed almost inevitable, she made a mess of things.

He exhaled slowly, amusement flickering beneath the surface.

She's the same.

The same girl from the rain, the same girl who had stood frozen as he handed back her ruined sketches. He had left that night, convinced that she was nothing more than a fleeting encounter—an artist caught in the storm, a moment he would forget.

Clearly, fate had other plans.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her fumble with the papers. A quiet chuckle escaped before he could stop it.

She froze at the sound, her head snapping up.

And there it was—the moment of recognition. He saw it in her eyes as they widened in surprise, then narrowed as if she were trying to decide whether to be embarrassed or annoyed.

For a second, neither of them spoke. His sharp gaze swept over her, recognition flickering in his eyes. Then, his gaze dipped to the scattered papers, then back to her, and—was that amusement she saw?

"You have a habit of making an entrance," he finally said, his voice just as deep and composed as she thought.

Violet's face turned a deeper shade of red, as she thought of all the ways this meeting could have gone, running into him like this was not on the list.

"And you have a habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times," she swallowed, quickly gathering the last of the papers. 

"It's not intentional," he arched an eyebrow and a corner of his lips twitched—just barely."So… you work here?" Violet stood up, hugging her notebook to her chest as she tried to appear unaffected.Ethan tilted his head slightly. She doesn't know.

Interesting.

"You could say that," he said vaguely.

"Are you the project manager or something?" she frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. 

"Or something," he allowed the smallest smirk to slip through. 

Before she could demand a proper answer, another voice interrupted.

"Ah, Violet! You've arrived."

She turned to see a well-dressed older man approaching. He offered a warm smile before gesturing toward Ethan.

"I see you've already met Mr. Sinclair. He'll be overseeing the project."

Ethan shifted his gaze back to Violet, watching as realization dawned on her.

Her lips parted slightly, her grip tightening on her sketchbook.

Oh.

He saw the moment she put it together—who he was, why he was here.

Her mysterious stranger wasn't just part of the company. He was the company.

Violet turned back to Ethan, who was watching her with that same unreadable expression.

For a brief second, something unreadable passed through her expression. He couldn't tell if it was frustration, intrigue, or a mix of both. But whatever it was, she masked it quickly.

"Well," he said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Shall we begin?"

Violet exhaled sharply, her eyes still holding a spark of defiance as she nodded.

Ethan turned, leading the way to the conference room, aware of her presence behind him.

Yes, complications had a habit of finding him.

And this one, he realized, was just beginning.

Meanwhile, Violet inhaled sharply, knowing one thing for certain—this project was about to become a lot more complicated.

And she had a feeling she wouldn't be forgetting Ethan Sinclair anytime soon.