Chapter 1
Eva Hartmann
I should have been paying attention to Professor Martinez’s lecture on sustainable urban development. Instead, I found myself sketching elaborate Gothic cathedrals in the margins of my notebook, my mind wandering to the chocolate croissant I’d skipped for breakfast and whether I had enough quarters for the laundry room tonight.
The auditorium was packed for the special campus development debate, something about the university’s expansion plans that had everyone worked up.
As a sophomore architecture student, I probably should have cared more about zoning laws and building codes, but honestly? I was just here because attendance was mandatory and I needed the extra credit.
That was before I saw him.
“The university’s proposed high-rise dormitories represent the most economically viable solution for housing expansion,” a voice cut through the ambient chatter like a knife through silk.
Confident. Authoritative. Utterly compelling.
I looked up from my doodles and felt my breath catch.
He stood at the debate podium like he owned it, like he owned the entire room. Tall, with dark hair that looked effortlessly perfect and a jawline that could have been carved from marble.
But it wasn’t just his looks that made me suddenly sit straighter in my seat, it was the way he commanded attention without even trying. Every person in that auditorium was hanging on his words, and he knew it.
“While community advocates argue for preservation of green spaces,” he continued, his voice carrying easily through the room, “we must consider the practical realities of urban growth.Maximising vertical development allows for increased housing density while minimizing environmental footprint per resident.”
I wanted to hate him immediately.
Everything about him screamed privileged rich boy, the perfectly tailored navy suit that probably cost more than my entire semester’s textbooks, the expensive watch catching the light as he gestured, the casual confidence that only came from never having to worry about anything real.
But then he smiled, and my traitorous heart did a little flip.
“Furthermore,” he said, clicking to the next slide with the ease of someone born to present, “sustainable development isn’t just about preserving what exists, it’s about creating something better. More efficient. More profitable for everyone involved.”
That’s when I found my voice.
“Profitable for who?”
The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and suddenly every head in the auditorium turned toward me. Heat flooded my cheeks, but I was committed now. I stood up on shaky legs, clutching my notebook to my chest like a shield.
His dark eyes found mine across the crowded room, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us. Up close, well, as close as fifty rows could get, his eyes were the color of coffee, intense and focused entirely on me.
“I’m sorry?” he said, and even his confusion sounded elegant.
“You said profitable for everyone,” I managed, my voice stronger now despite the thundering of my heart. “But when you build luxury high-rises, you’re displacing the communities that were already there. You’re pricing out the people who actually need affordable housing. So who exactly is ‘everyone’ in your equation?”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Someone behind me whispered.
Who is that girl?
I wanted to sink into my seat and disappear, but something about the way he was looking at me, not dismissive, not annoyed, but genuinely interested, kept me standing.
“That’s an excellent point,” he said, and I swear I caught the hint of a smile. “Though I’d argue that economic development benefits the broader community through job creation and increased tax revenue. Sometimes progress requires difficult choices.”
“Easy to say when you’re not the one being displaced,” I shot back.
Now he was definitely smiling, and it was devastating.
“True. But idealism without practical implementation is just wishful thinking. You can’t save the world with good intentions alone.”
“Maybe not,” I said, my pulse racing with the thrill of intellectual combat, “but you certainly can’t save it by bulldozing it for profit either.”
The moderator stepped in before he could respond, moving the debate along to other speakers, but I barely heard another word. I sank back into my seat, my hands trembling slightly with adrenaline, acutely aware that his eyes had lingered on me for just a moment longer than necessary before he returned to his notes.
My roommate Kelly, who’d been sitting beside me in horrified silence, leaned over and whispered, “Eva, what the hell was that? Do you know who you just argued with?”
“Should I?” I whispered back, trying to look nonchalant while my entire nervous system was still firing like the Fourth of July.
“That’s Nathan Ashford,” she hissed. “His family owns like half the real estate in the state. He’s a senior, business major, and rumor has it he’s going to take over Ashford Development when he graduates. He’s basically untouchable.”
Nathan Ashford.
The name rolled around in my mind like a marble in a jar. I snuck another glance at him as he listened to the next speaker, noting the way he absently tapped his pen against his legal pad, the slight furrow between his brows when he concentrated.
Untouchable.
That’s what Kelly had said. But when he’d looked at me during our brief exchange, when he’d smiled that small, almost secret smile, he hadn’t seemed untouchable at all.
He’d seemed... interested.
The debate wrapped up twenty minutes later with the usual academic non-conclusions and calls for further study. As students began filing out of the auditorium, I gathered my things slowly, stealing glances toward the front where Nathan was being surrounded by professors and older students, people who actually mattered, unlike a random sophomore who’d had the audacity to challenge him.
“Come on,” Kelly tugged at my arm. “Let’s get out of here before someone asks you to explain yourself to the dean.”
But I couldn’t move. Not yet. Because Nathan Ashford was walking up the aisle, and he was looking right at me.
He stopped when he reached my row, and up close, he was even more devastating. Tall enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, broad shoulders filling out that perfect suit, and a presence that seemed to make everything else fade into background noise.
“That was quite a performance,” he said, and his voice was warm, amused rather than angry.
“I wasn’t performing,” I managed, clutching my notebook tighter. “I meant every word.”
“I could tell.” He tilted his head slightly, studying me with those coffee-dark eyes. “You’re passionate about community planning.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“Architecture isn’t just about buildings. It’s about people. About creating spaces where communities can thrive, not just where developers can profit.”
“Idealistic,” he said, but not unkindly.
“Realistic,” I countered. “Just because something’s harder doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I became acutely aware of the students flowing around us, the way conversations died when people noticed Nathan Ashford talking to some random underclassman.
“What’s your name?” he asked finally.
“Eva. Eva Hartmann.”
“Eva Hartmann,” he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. “Well, Eva Hartmann, you’ve given me something to think about.”
Before I could respond, he was walking away, rejoining the cluster of important people waiting for him at the auditorium entrance. But just before he reached them, he glanced back over his shoulder and caught me staring.
This time, his smile was definitely real.
I stood there long after he’d disappeared, my heart still racing, my mind replaying every second of our conversation. Kelly was saying something about dinner and assignments, but her voice seemed to come from very far away.
Nathan Ashford. Senior business major. Future real estate mogul. Everything I should disapprove of on principle.
So why couldn’t I stop thinking about the way he’d said my name?
“Eva!” Kelly’s voice finally broke through my trance. “Are you coming or what?”
“Yeah,” I said, finally allowing myself to be pulled toward the exit. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
But as we walked across campus in the fading afternoon light, I found myself already planning. The urban planning club met Thursdays. The debate society was recruiting new members. The campus sustainability committee could probably use more architecture students.
Nathan Ashford thought I was idealistic?
Fine. I’d show him exactly how much this idealistic sophomore could accomplish.
I’d show him exactly who Eva Hartmann really was.
Even if I had to follow him to every club meeting and academic event on campus to do it.
