Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
“Some stories are written in ink. Ours was written in blood.”
The private jet touched down in New York just after midnight. The sky was velvet black, the kind that swallowed stars whole. Chelsea Moretti stepped out onto the tarmac, her heels clicking against the ground with the same certainty she carried on red carpets around the world.
But this wasn’t L.A.
This city had a heartbeat of its own—louder, darker, faster.
She exhaled, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes even though the moon hung overhead. Habit. Fame had taught her that privacy was a myth and the world loved to watch a woman fall—especially one like her.
“Your car is waiting, Miss Moretti,” said the driver, holding the door to the sleek black SUV.
She slid in without a word, the silence in the car comforting. The past few weeks had been chaos—press tours, interviews, edits, rewrites. Her latest movie, Ashes of Us, was already predicted to win her another award. And she deserved it. She’d written every word of the script. She’d bled for it.
Now she was here to film the next one. And maybe to breathe.
But New York… it didn’t feel like a breath. It felt like a warning.
The moment the car pulled up to the hotel, the doormen jumped to open it. The entrance to The Lorenzo was marble and gold, glittering under the chandeliers. High-end. Private. Untouchable.
Chelsea’s heels echoed across the lobby floor. Her assistant trailed behind, already talking about her morning schedule.
But Chelsea stopped listening.
She felt it.
A chill at the back of her neck. A burn crawling up her spine.
Someone was watching her.
She turned, slowly. Her eyes scanned the room. It was nearly empty, aside from a businessman at the bar and a few late-night staff.
And him.
He sat in the shadows of the corner lounge, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, a watch that cost more than some cars wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile.
His gaze locked on hers like he already knew her. Like he owned her.
Chelsea’s breath caught.
Who the hell…?
She turned away before her knees could betray her, heart racing as she headed to the elevator.
---
CHASE
She walked like power. Like she’d been worshipped by the world and was bored of it.
He noticed the way her fingers grazed the hem of her coat. Nervous. Trying not to show it.
He smirked.
He'd seen her face on billboards, on covers, on screens. Chelsea Moretti—America’s obsession.
But she had no idea who he was. That made it even better.
He downed the last of his whiskey.
“Don,” his guard murmured beside him. “That’s her.”
Chase didn’t respond.
He already knew.
---
Back in her suite, Chelsea locked the door behind her. She leaned against it, letting the silence settle.
Why was her heart still beating so fast?
He hadn’t even spoken to her.
Yet something about that man felt like danger. Like déjà vu. Like destiny on fire.
She didn’t come here for trouble.
But maybe trouble had been waiting for her all along.
