"First time?"

The salty breeze mixed with the scent of his skin had Isabella Dawson completely dizzy.

Just as she was about to give in fully, the man suddenly let go of her lips, his palm grazing gently across them—casual, but so teasing it made her whole body tense.

Waves of unfamiliar yet addictive sensations crashed over her, leaving her helplessly swept away. She was totally under his spell.

Barely able to hold it in, she whispered breathlessly, "Please… just…"

"Don't regret it," Liam Vincent warned. And just like that, he dove back in, sealing her lips with his.

Isabella clutched his shoulders tightly, the memory of everything that happened earlier flashing through her mind, washing away her embarrassment. She reached up and responded to his kiss with unexpected urgency.

Just two hours ago, she had attended a wedding—an extremely ironic one.

She was supposed to be the bride.

Instead, her so-called best friend stood there, in the dress, with her ex by her side.

No—Sophia Grant was never her friend to begin with.

She had gotten close to her with a plan, carefully digging at her vulnerabilities from the inside out. Said she wanted to work together, then stole her concept and even accused her of being the copycat.

Isabella refused to be a victim in their little drama. That’s why she crashed the wedding.

But she didn’t get the closure she wanted—instead, her ex shoved her so hard she fell to the ground.

In that moment, anger and humiliation exploded all at once.

She’d grabbed a bottle off a table and chugged it, then knocked over the stacked champagne tower just as the whole place erupted in yelling and commotion.

That’s when she stumbled out, dazed from the alcohol.

And somehow ended up in a stranger’s arms.

Her vision was blurry, but when she looked up, she locked eyes with a pair of dark, intense ones.

And her gaze simply lingered on his lips.

Above them, the stars were sparkling.

Almost instinctively, she tilted her head and kissed him first.

She had never felt anything like this before—there was the sweet taste of wine on his mouth, but also a pull that was dangerously addictive.

She gripped onto him like a drowning person finding a lifeline, climbing up just to breathe.

"Easy," his voice brushed past her ear, low and soothing. "I’ll be gentle. Just relax..."

While she was lost in the memory, his soft words brought her back to the present.

His hand wandered carefully, like sparks trailing down her skin, igniting something new in her each time.

Isabella stopped holding back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving in to this strange, thrilling rush tangled in the unfamiliar man...

Then came morning.Isabella Dawson was still feeling a bit sore when she opened her eyes and spotted a ridiculously handsome face beside her.

The man had sharp brows, deep eyes, a perfectly straight nose, and those slightly curved lips that were just... unfairly attractive.

Even his skin was flawless—better than most beauty influencers out there. She couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds, totally spacing out.

Then, like a slap to the face, last night's wild scenes came rushing back.

Wait, seriously? She actually went through with that?

In her twenty-two years of life, she’d only done two impulsive things worth remembering. One was refusing everyone's advice and diving headfirst into fashion design after leaving the orphanage. The other... was just last night—getting a little tipsy and having a one-night stand in a car with a complete stranger.

Just thinking about it made her scalp tingle. In a panic, Isabella scrambled to get dressed, hands trembling so badly she couldn’t even button her shirt properly. She didn’t care—just threw open the door and bolted.

When Alexander Hastings woke up, the seat beside him was empty, but the faint scent of what had happened still hung in the air.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the interior, and his gaze landed on a dark green lace strap peeking out from under the seat.

“Eat, run, vanish. That’s how you’re playing it?” he scoffed coldly, twirling the strap between his fingers.

A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. “You’ve got some nerve, sweetheart. Let’s see how far you get.”

Three years later.

At the Haicheng International Fashion Design Contest.

This competition, hosted by the top-notch brand ‘Secret’ under the Hastings Group, had become the center of attention within the global fashion industry.

The auditorium was packed, every seat taken. Industry heavyweights, established designers, and scouts were all present.

There were some fresh faces too, up-and-coming designers trying to get noticed—but, let’s be real, everyone knew they were mostly just background for the big names.

On stage, the host’s smooth voice echoed through the venue: “Please welcome contestant twenty-nine, Miss Luna from Ireland. She’ll be modeling a piece from Rachel Dawson’s Sea Breeze collection. Rachel is being hailed as one of the most promising fresh talents this year. Her vision and concepts…”

Luna turned gracefully, revealing the stunning open-back design—a clever pattern that drew a soft gasp from the crowd.

The flowing ocean blue hues shimmered under the lights, like a gentle wave dancing across her back, captivating every eye in the room.

Seeing the judges’ amazed reactions, Isabella allowed herself a tiny, satisfied smile backstage.

Three years of hustling finally paid off.

But just as the camera panned to the jury panel, her heart suddenly skipped a beat.

That man in the front row… why did he look exactly like the one from three years ago?