The Billionaire widowers Last Wife

The car didn't slow down.

Eloise saw it coming, dead-on, and she just knew and felt it like ice in her gut that it wasn't going to stop. Her breath caught. Her heel slipped on the edge of the curb. The whole world tilted, fast and hard, making her stomach lurch.

The grille swallowed her vision.

She stumbled backward and straight into something solid. The jolt punched the air right out of her, ribs locking up. Everything went quiet. The street, the noise, all of it just blinked out. For a split second, there was nothing but her pulse, loud and wild in her ears.

The car rolled forward an inch.

Then stopped.

It was so close she could see her own warped reflection in the hood, stretched and strange. The windows were blacked out. No face. No movement. Nothing behind the glass.

Just black.

Her hands started shaking before she even noticed she'd raised them. The tremor crept up, from fingertips to wrists, like her body was trying to shake something out and couldn't.

The engine just idled.

It waited.

It watched.

A thin thread of exhaust drifted past her legs. The smell caught in her throat, sharp and metallic, and she swallowed hard.

The car didn't move. Didn't honk. Didn't back up. It just sat there, like it could wait forever.

Finally, her lungs remembered how to work. She stepped sideways off the curb, heart pounding, staring at the windshield like maybe she could force it to turn clear.

The car stayed put.

One long second, perfectly still.

Then it rolled away.

Not fast. Not like it was spooked or guilty. It just... left.

Her heart wouldn't settle. It hammered on, uneven and loud, like it still didn't trust that she was out of danger.

Neither did she.

She stood there too long, staring after the car, listening to the sound of its tires fading away. Only when a stranger brushed past her did she realize she was still blocking the sidewalk.

She made herself move.

Her hands were still shaking when she pushed open the café door.

Warm air wrapped around her, but it didn't cut through the tension. Her skin stayed tight, on edge, waiting for something to finish that hadn't even started.

The bell over the door rang softly.

Mia looked up from the counter and frowned. "You look pale."

"Almost got hit crossing the street," Eloise said, fumbling with her apron strings. They slipped once because her fingers wouldn't listen. She tried again.

Mia straightened. "What?"

"I'm fine." She tried to sound normal. "Just startled."

The word felt too small for what her body was still going through.

Mia watched her for a second, eyes narrowing a little, like she was trying to puzzle something out. Then she said, almost offhand, "Some guy was here asking about you earlier."

Eloise's hands froze.

"What guy?"

"Taller than me. Calm. Polite." Mia tipped her head. "The kind of polite that makes you stand up straight without even realizing it."

A cold prickle ran down Eloise's back.

"He knew your full name," Mia added. "First and last."

The café suddenly felt way too quiet.

"Did he leave a name?"

"No." Mia shook her head. "Just smiled and said he'd come back."

Eloise finished tying the apron even though it was already tight. "Probably someone I served before."

"Maybe."

But Mia didn't sound sure. Neither was Eloise.

The hours dragged on, refusing to pass.

Every time the door opened, her shoulders jumped before she could stop them. Every time a car went by, her eyes flicked to the window. Her body wouldn't let her forget.

She spilled sugar. Burned her fingers on a mug. Forgot an order she'd already written down about three times. 

By closing time, her muscles were knotted, tight, and sore.

When Alex called and said, Come out with us, she agreed before she could talk herself out of it. Not because she wanted to be around people. She didn't want to be alone with the quiet.

The bar was warm inside, dim and gold-lit. The music was low, voices blending in the background. Mateo slid in next to Alex and kissed his cheek, then turned to her.

"You needed air," Alex said, studying her. "So we dragged you out. You're welcome."

"I didn't ask to be dragged."

"You didn't have to."

She wrapped cold fingers around the glass Mateo handed her. The chill felt real, steadying. She focused on that, not the memory of black windows and idling engines.

The conversation circled her. Alex talked. Mateo cut in. She replied when she had to.

For a moment, her shoulders relaxed. She let herself breathe. Then, something shifted. No sound, no sudden movement. Just a feeling. Like someone else had stepped into the room and the air knew it before she did.

Her fingers tightened around her glass. She looked up.

Cassian Blackmoor stood across the room, watching her, not coming closer, not saying a word. Just there, steady, like he'd been waiting for her to notice. You couldn't read his face, not really. But she felt his eyes on her, heavy enough that her pulse kicked so hard she felt it in her throat.

He didn't move right away. He just watched, calm, like he had all the time in the world to study the way she breathed.

Then he walked over. Stopped beside her table.

"Eloise."

Just her name, quiet and steady.

The sound of it slid through her, warm and slow. He glanced at Alex and Mateo. "Good evening, Gentlemen." They answered out of habit, but he was already looking at her again.

"May I steal you for a moment?"

Her heart hammered. She swallowed and nodded, barely trusting her voice. "Yes," she whispered.

He stepped back and nodded toward the balcony. She got up, slipped past him, felt him right there behind her, not touching, but impossible to ignore. She didn't need to look. He was a presence at her back, warm and electric.

He pulled the door open. Cool night air spilled in, slid over her skin, brushed her collarbone and wrists. The noise from inside faded away, shrinking down to shadows, hush, and the sound of her own breath.

And him, still right there.

Her breath hitched. He caught it.

He took her in, slow, eyes landing on her mouth.

"Do you always look at people this way?" His voice was soft, almost rough. "Because I don't think you realize what you do to me. I've never felt like this. I keep telling myself to keep away, but I just can't. You make that impossible. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not for you. Not for anyone. I was fine before you."

He meant it. He couldn't walk away now.

She drew in a shaky breath. He moved closer, careful, leaving enough space for her to step back. But she didn't.

He reached up, traced her jaw with gentle fingers. His hand drifted to her neck, then down her arm, slow and sure, like he was trying to memorize her.

She let her eyes flutter closed.

Their breaths tangled. Her hands found his jacket and gripped it tight.

"Eloise." He barely got her name out. "Can I kiss you?"

She swallowed, nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

He leaned in slowly, closing the gap. His lips brushed hers softly, tentatively. She clung to his jacket as the kiss deepened, warmth blooming in her chest, spreading everywhere, every second stretching out.

Then, 

A sharp crack split the air.

Something overhead snapped.

Cassian's hand shot out, grabbed her arm.

The glass exploded. Metal shrieked. The chandelier crashed down, smashing right where she'd been standing a heartbeat ago.