Chapter 1: Unintended Invitations
Hanna’s heart raced as she stared at her phone, the screen betraying her with Ádám’s name glaring back. ‘No, no, no! Damn it!’ she cursed under her breath, jabbing at the unresponsive ‘end call’ icon. The device seemed to mock her, frozen in its betrayal.
‘Hanna? Hanna, are you okay?’ Ádám’s voice, smooth as aged whiskey, poured through the speaker, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
‘Khm… Hi… Ádám,’ she managed, her voice a mix of irritation and embarrassment. She scrambled for control, her mind racing. Tell the truth? He’d never buy it. Lie? Too obvious. The truth was out of the question.
‘Uh… I’m feeling a bit off,’ she blurted, instantly regretting it. *What am I doing? I’m such an idiot.*
‘What do you mean? What’s wrong?’ His concern was palpable, and damn if it didn’t make her stomach flip.
‘It’s nothing serious… just could use a little tip, a trick,’ she said, grasping at straws, her voice dripping with a faux casualness she didn’t feel.
‘I should be there in about forty minutes. Still enough time to come over.’ His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
Hanna’s eyes darted around her chaotic apartment—piles of books, moving boxes, a disaster zone. No way she could clean this up in half an hour. Hell, a whole day wouldn’t cut it. ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry… it’s just… the cut on my arm is really dark purple. And it’s bleeding a bit.’
‘Around the stitch?’ Ádám’s voice sharpened, professional yet laced with something deeper, something that made her pulse quicken.
‘Yes,’ she lied, glancing at the perfectly fine bandage on her arm.
‘Hanna, that’s completely normal. Believe me. The large veins weren’t damaged, remember? The skin on your hand is thin, full of tiny capillaries. If they bleed, the blood stays between the tissues, which is why it looks so dark purple. As long as it’s not gushing and you can move your fingers, it’s fine.’
She flexed her hand instinctively, a slight twinge of pain grounding her. ‘Nothing major, so don’t bother coming…’
‘Have you been to get your car yet?’ he cut in, not letting her off the hook.
‘No, I just got up.’
‘Then I’ll come get you. I can check it at the same time.’
‘No, you don’t have to, thanks,’ she protested, though her resolve was crumbling.
‘Oh yes, I do.’ His words hung in the air, heavy with intent.
Silence stretched between them, electric and charged. Hanna’s mind spun. Shower? Makeup? No, no makeup. She hadn’t worn any yesterday. If she dolled up now, he’d think she was trying to seduce him. *Be natural. Average. Neutral.* She ran her hands over her face, feeling like a flustered teenager. ‘Oh my God… what kind of trouble have I gotten myself into?’
She glanced at her arm, muttering, ‘Now what do I do… to make it look purple?’ But deep down, she knew the real question wasn’t about her arm. It was about the heat simmering in her core, the way Ádám’s voice alone had her on edge. She could already imagine him walking through her door, his piercing gaze stripping away her defenses, his hands—strong, capable—reaching for more than just her injury.
As she hurried to the bathroom, the thought of him close, his breath hot against her skin, made her pause. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her eyes wild with anticipation. Whatever was coming, she wasn’t just going to play the damsel. If Ádám wanted to check on her, she’d make damn sure he got more than he bargained for.
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