Adrian Arison didn't usually walk—not in this part of the city, not without security, and certainly not alone. However, that Thursday afternoon was different. He felt like he was losing control and spiraling off the edge. The afternoon weighed heavily on him, and the back-to-back meetings didn't help. The boardroom's stale and suffocating air was squeezing the life out of him.
It was unusual and impulsive, but he said it anyway. "I need air!" He said, disappearing from the thirty-first floor without waiting for a reply.
He left his Audi with a valet, loosened his tie, and just walked.
It was impulsive, reckless, and probably stupid. But there was something about Orsboard's humid air, the dusk, and the familiar chaos of the streets that grounded him more than a spreadsheet ever could. Reminded him of the time he left home and all the responsibilities and expectations. Oh, how he wanted to enjoy the simplicity of life, but those days of running are over. But for now, he reveled in the chaotic streets and lively chatter. For once, he could just be a man. Not Adrian Arison, the CEO, or heir to the corporate throne, a constant headliner.
Just Adrian.
The smell of food wafted into his nostrils as he turned off a narrower street lined with food carts and vendors. The scent of grilled chicken and exhaust was strangely comforting. They were all so preoccupied with their business and chatter that they did not even spare him a second glance, not in his unassuming blazer and unusual entourage. It felt good. Human.
Then he saw her.
She was laughing — or at least trying to. Her voice was hesitant. It cracked around the edges with insecurity, her bag strap slipping from her shoulders with every few steps. Her friend, the shorter one with the wild hair and brash confidence, was trying to hype her up. Adrian didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the streets were loud, and the girl's voice was louder as she tried to be audible over the noise.
Arison Enterprise.
His company.
She was talking about applying for a job there. She was terrified that she did not fit in, had no backing, and would likely not get it. Her fears weren't unfounded. He almost smiled. Something was refreshing about her — the rawness of her fear and how she did not pretend to be sure of herself. She was genuine, unlike the polished candidates he usually met. People with last names older than the country, with recommendations from senators, and tailored suits from Europe.
Her voice. It was shaky with uncertainty, but still managed to sound determined. It held more weight for him than the connections of other candidates.
He should have looked away — he wanted to. But he couldn't.
Then the car came.
Adrian didn't think. He reacted. He did not think that his training from childhood, years of Krav Maga training, corporate security drills, and an instinct to protect would kick in at once. At that very moment, not for self-defense, but to save a random stranger. He moved faster than he thought he could, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her out of the path of the speeding car.
She crashed into him like a wave, and suddenly his world narrowed. Everything else faded to him. All he saw was her wide eyes that darted around in fear, her breathless voice, and the feel of her trembling hand against his chest.
"Are you alright?" He asked, even though the question didn't cover half of what he wanted to say.
Her eyes—widened, uncertain, stormy — met his.
"I… I think so." She stuttered.
That's when he felt it.
Was it attraction? Not attraction — not exactly. It was deeper. More dangerous. Like the moment you realize you're standing at the edge of a cliff and there's an invisible force pulling you forward instead of pushing you back, and you don't resist.
"I'm Cayla," she introduced herself, extending her hand for a shake.
Her name etched itself into his mind, engraved in his subconscious. He couldn't shake it off. He instinctively gave her his first name. He wasn't ready to be that Adrian. Not yet. Not to her.
Cayla looked at him differently. She was staring almost at his soul. She stared at him like a puzzle she wanted to fix — could she solve it? Her friend did not trust him — it was understandable.
He wanted to say more and stay longer. But he couldn't.
He had too many secrets. Too many headlines waiting to explode.
So he left.
However, he didn't stop thinking about her. He couldn't.
***
By the time Adrian returned to the Arison tower, it was past eight. The lights in the boardroom were still on, and his assistant, Mara, was waiting for him, with a stack of folders and a raised brow.
"You disappeared."
"I took a walk," he replied briskly.
"In Cape?" She queried further.
"In the city." He said curtly.
Mara opened her mouth and then closed it. Opened and closed it again, like a gaping fish, biting down her remark. She handed him the top folder. "New batch of applicants for the Management Training Program. Final list. The interview starts Monday."
He froze as his eyes fell on the first résumé.
Cayla Hart.
There she was, staring back at him in a passport-sized photo clipped to the corner of the page. His heart stuttered unreasonably as he scanned the details. O.B. Cape. Top 1%. Internship at Navarro & Co. Awards. Volunteer work. A life that wasn't handed to her, but one that she had clawed her way into.
"She's interesting," he said casually.
Mara stared at the page. "Hart? Yeah. Some of the committee pushed for her despite the lack of connection. Said she's got something. Hunger, maybe. Grit.
Adrian closed the folder slowly.
"Schedule her for the first slot on Monday morning."
"You're sitting in on the interview?"
"I am now."
Mara tilted her head questioningly. "Should I know something?"
"No," he said. "Not yet."
As he walked to his office folder in hand, he couldn't shake off the thought.
Fate, as he'd always believed, was a business strategy. You created it. Controlled it.
But now?
Now it felt like fate had just pulled up in a speeding car.