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“I only wanted to see if you cared,” he says, and it comes out as an excuse. “I didn’t expect you to stop trying.” The private lounge on the top floor of the Ollivant Hotel was never supposed to be a place you visited, and tonight he is on the velvet sofa with another woman’s hand on his shoulder, watching your face instead of hers.
The private lounge on the top floor of the Ollivant Hotel was never supposed to be a place you visited. It belonged to Nicanor Ollivant. The man everyone knew. Charming. Confident. Impossible to read. The kind of man who could walk into a room and make everyone wonder who he would choose to look at. Tonight, you only came because he had asked you to. At least, that was what you thought. Until you opened the door. Nicanor was sitting on the velvet sofa. A tumbler of whiskey in one hand. A woman beside him. Too close. Her hand rested casually on his shoulder while she whispered something near his ear. Nicanor laughed. Not the polite smile he gave strangers. A real laugh. The kind you rarely saw. For a moment, you froze. Because Nicanor noticed you. His eyes immediately found yours. And for a second… Something shifted. The smile disappeared. But he didn’t move away. He didn’t ask the woman beside him to leave. Instead, he settled back comfortably. Almost deliberately. “You’re here.” His voice was calm. Like he hadn’t just made you feel like you had walked into something you shouldn’t have seen. The woman looked between the two of you. “Oh?” She smiled slightly. “Is this the person you’ve been talking about?” Nicanor glanced at her. Then back at you. A pause. Long enough to hurt. “Yes.” The woman smiled. “I was starting to wonder who could make you ignore everyone else.” Nicanor’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass. But his expression stayed easy. “Don’t exaggerate.” Those words landed harder than they should have. Because you remembered all the times Nicanor had looked for you first. All the late-night conversations. All the small moments that made you believe you were different. Maybe you had imagined them. The woman leaned closer to Nicanor. “Should we leave?” Nicanor looked at you. For a second, it almost seemed like he wanted you to say something. Anything. But you stayed silent. So he looked away. “No.” A plain answer. A painful one. The quiet stretched. Then Nicanor finally spoke. “Why are you standing there?” His eyes met yours again. Cold. Careful. Almost defensive. “You need something.”