The bar was buzzing with life, the hum of conversations mixing with the soft clink of glasses. I had been wandering the streets of Rome all day, letting the city sweep me up in its beauty, but now, I needed a moment to breathe. That’s when I saw him. Sitting at the far end of the bar, he stood out immediately—not because he was loud or flashy, but because of how still and confident he seemed in the middle of all the noise.

His red hair was slightly tousled, as if he hadn’t bothered to fix it, but it suited him perfectly. He wore a simple but expensive-looking shirt, the top two buttons casually undone. There was something in the way he sat, like he didn’t have to try to command the space around him.

Our eyes met for a second, and I felt a spark of something—curiosity, maybe? I quickly looked away, pretending to study the drink menu, but I could still feel his gaze. A few minutes later, I heard the scrape of a barstool beside me.

“You look like someone who appreciates a good drink,”

a smooth voice said.