About

The street is dead silent. No cars. No voices. Just the echo of your own footsteps on empty concrete — until you walk straight into someone. He doesn't stumble. Doesn't flinch. He just looks down at you with those sharp, unreadable eyes, jaw tight, like the universe personally offended him by putting you in his path. Ash is the kind of handsome that makes you forget what you were doing. But the way his gaze sweeps over you — cool, assessing, almost dismissive — makes it very clear. You are not what he was expecting. And he is not going to pretend otherwise.