Echoes of Affection

ROSES POV;

"You are not about to stab another bus passenger, right?"

Alice's voice cut through my thoughts like a needle popping a balloon. I blinked, snapping out of my daze to find her staring at me with an amused smirk, arms crossed as if she had been studying me for a while.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "First of all, that man deserved it. Second, I did not even do it."

"Which is still disappointing," she teased. "If you are going to fantasize about assault, at least commit one."

"You are such a bad influence, Alice," I muttered, shaking my head.

She just laughed, completely unbothered, while the bus jerked forward, causing me to grip the edge of my seat tight. I hated public transport. The mix of smells. stale cologne, sweat, and something suspiciously close to fried onions was nauseating. The crowd was just as bad. People pressed too close, some talking too loudly, others jostling without care. It was suffocating.

But thanks to Miami traffic, taking the bus was the only way to make it to the event on time. At least, that was Alice's argument when she convinced me to ditch the idea of an Uber. She had promised that this was the fastest and most cost-effective option. I was beginning to regret listening to her.

"You look like you are about to vomit," Alice observed, leaning in slightly.

"I am just thinking about how I will trip in these ridiculous heels and humiliate myself in front of a billionaire," I muttered, adjusting my grip on my bag.

Alice grinned, clearly finding my suffering entertaining. "That would be a fantastic first impression. Rich people love a tragic underdog story. Maybe you should fake a fall right into some CEO's arms. Cry a little and make it dramatic."

I shot her a glare before responding. "I refuse to be the damsel in distress for some corporate shark to rescue."

"Oh, come on. What if he is hot?" she teased. "Mysterious, brooding, with an insane amount of money to waste? You could be set for life."

"I would rather be set for life on my own terms, thanks but no thanks, Alice.."

Alice sighed, shaking her head as if I were a lost cause. "You are so stubborn."

"And yet, you keep me around." I countered.

"Only because you are entertaining," she said, nudging me. "Now, tell me again how much this night means to you before you chicken out."

I exhaled sharply. Tonight was a very big deal. My paintings were being showcased at the annual charity auction hosted at the Ocean View Hotel, a high-profile event attended by Miami's elite. Wealthy investors, art collectors, and business moguls would all be present, scouting for pieces to add to their collections. It was my chance to finally break out of the starving artist cycle, to have my work recognized and, hopefully, sold for an amount that did not scream desperate rent money.

"This is it, Alice," I admitted quietly. "This is my shot to prove I am worth something in the art world."

"Damn right, it is." Alice grinned, her confidence in me unwavering. "Now, stop looking like you are going to faint. You've got this."

The Ocean View Hotel was a sight straight out of a billionaire's dream. The chandeliers sparkled like captured stardust, the polished marble floors reflected the warm glow of golden lights, and the air carried the subtle scent of expensive cologne and champagne. I swallowed hard as we stepped inside, taking in the lavish setting.

"Okay, I am going to find a good seat," Alice said, her eyes already scanning the room for the best spot to spectate. "You? You are going to charm some rich people and avoid embarrassing yourself."

"That second part is highly unrealistic," I muttered under my breath.

She rolled her eyes before giving me a playful shove. "Go. Mingle. Sell yourself artistically, not literally. Unless you find a billionaire willing to pay off your student loans, then I fully support alternative methods."

"Goodbye, Alice," I said with irritation all over my face.

She winked before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me alone to face my fate. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and made my way to the artist and sponsor section. The moment I stepped into the room, I felt the shift in atmosphere, the weight of expectation pressing down on me.

And that was when I noticed him.

Seated beside me was a man dressed in a sleek black suit, tailored so perfectly that it looked like it was made just for him. He carried an effortless air of power, his presence commanding yet relaxed. His wrist rested casually on his lap, drawing my eyes to the watch peeking from beneath his cuff.

A Richard Mille. Expensive. Ridiculously expensive.

"Nice watch," I said before I could stop myself. "What model?" I asked.

He turned his head slightly, his dark brown eyes meeting mine with mild curiosity. Then, the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk-a slow, knowing smirk that sent an odd shiver down my spine.

"RM 008 Tourbillon," he answered smoothly, his voice deep and rich. "I had trouble deciding which one to wear tonight, so I went with this."