“Jasmine,” he whispered near her ear, sending chills down her spine, “tonight you outshined everyone here. Not because of the dress. Not because of the deal. Because of you.”
“I’m just doing my job,” Jasmine replied, and for the first time she said his name without “Mr.” “Ethan.”
“No,” he said. “This isn’t work. I’ve spent months trying to convince myself it was just professional admiration. But tonight, seeing you here—laughing, being yourself—I can’t lie to myself anymore.”
The music stopped, but they didn’t step apart. They stared at each other—two souls from different worlds recognizing each other in the middle of a crowd.
The ride back was quiet, heavy with unspoken words. When they arrived at Jasmine’s modest apartment building, Ethan turned off the engine. The street was dark and still.
“I don’t want this to end here,” Ethan said, turning toward her. “Not the night. Us.”
“Ethan… we come from different worlds,” Jasmine said, her voice breaking. “You live in a penthouse. I live here. Your world doesn’t accept mine. Tomorrow at work, everything will go back to—”