Arya's POV
I sank into my plush, black chair—a throne of soft comfort and quiet reflection—gazing out of my bedroom window. Seattle's ever-present rain streaked the glass, distorting the cityscape like a living painting. After months of adjusting to this new city, I finally felt like the turbulence was settling. Deals were rolling in, my designs were turning heads, and I was thriving.
Not just surviving, thriving.
I was landing contracts with high-profile clients and building a network faster than any rookie in the industry. The money was pouring in for the company, and my name was already starting to circulate among the elite. For once, it felt like all my years of hard work—every late night and early morning—were paying off.
But then, there was Fray.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I shook my head and took a slow drag from the perfectly rolled joint resting between my fingers. Fray was quiet, almost shy, but there was something magnetic about her. Something raw. Before Siah and I moved to Seattle, we'd taken a trial run of living together. Adjusting had been rough—new city, new routines, long hours honing my craft—but then there she was: the mysterious, sexy neighbor who had slipped into my life unexpectedly.
She was nothing like our crusty landlord had warned us. Dangerous? A disturbance? No. Fray was sweet, composed, and, frankly, adorable. She was an enigma, though. No social media, no constant TV background noise—just quiet focus and an impressive knack for cooking. She reminded me of myself in some ways: all work, no play.
Despite myself, I was drawn to her. The calm in her presence, the slight awkwardness in her laugh—it made me want to know her even more.
The rain pattered steadily as I finished off the joint and sank deeper into my chair. It was one of those rare work-from-home days, and I'd taken full advantage of it. Most of my projects were ahead of schedule, leaving only a couple of meetings and emails to get through. The freedom to work at my own pace was a luxury, but the weight of ambition was never far behind. I wasn't just aiming to be good; I was aiming to be unforgettable.
By midday, I'd wrapped up a meeting with a magazine eager to feature my designs. Models wearing my creations in glossy spreads? The thought alone had me buzzing. I called my brother, Xander, to share the news. Tonight, we'd celebrate with champagne. Every deal was a victory, but this one felt personal—a tangible step toward the top.
Our parents might have given us money, but they'd never given us attention. Xander and I had raised ourselves, built our futures brick by brick with no safety net. That grit stayed with us, pushing us forward, pulling us closer as siblings. I was determined to make it, not just for myself but for us.
And then there was that email.
Lincoln.
I cringed as I read his over-the-top message, all exclamation points and misplaced charm. Instead of a scheduled online meeting, he was suggesting dinner at La Rouge. The tone of his email made my stomach churn, but at least the food would be good.
I sighed, pushing my laptop away and deciding a nap was the best course of action. My sleep schedule was a mess—thanks, Seattle rain—but I needed the rest. Fray was worth the late nights. Something about her brought light into my life, the kind that made me grin at random moments and blush when I caught her glancing at me. She wasn't like anyone I'd met before.
The gym's floor-to-ceiling windows gave me the perfect view inside. It didn't take long to find her. She was at the far end, her shirt soaked with sweat and riding up just enough to tease her toned abs. My thoughts veered into dangerous territory, and I fought the urge to bite my lip.
