Crossing Lines
Eva was gone before he woke. The realization hit Finn hard, a sinking weight in his chest. Here he was—a bartender barely scraping by—waking up in the bed of Eva, the most powerful woman in the country. His pulse quickened, panic creeping in. What now? What did any of this mean?
His eyes darted around the room as if searching for answers. He moved toward the dresser, spotting his clothes folded neatly on a chair. The sight made his stomach twist. Her hands, or maybe someone else’s, had done this. He tugged his shirt on, fingers trembling as he fumbled with the buttons. Flashes of last night played like a broken reel in his mind—her eyes, piercing and unreadable, locked on his. Desire? Curiosity? Amusement? He couldn’t tell. And that scared him.
As he bent to tie his shoes, the room felt too big, too silent. Why did she leave? He tried to shake the thought, but it clung to him like the last traces of her perfume, still faint in the air.
Finn’s breath hitched. He felt like a pawn in a game he didn’t understand. That’s her world, right? Power plays, moves calculated down to the finest detail. He didn’t belong here, not in her world of wealth and strategy. The thought spiraled, anxiety clawing at him. What if I’m just a momentary distraction?
His chest tightened again as the pieces refused to fit. One thing was painfully clear—he wasn't in control, and he had crossed a line he could never uncross. The weight of that realization pressed down on him, a mix of exhilaration and anxiety swirling within. He felt exposed, raw, entangled in a world he didn't understand, and it terrified him.
He had tasted her-the sweetness of her lips, the heat of her body pressed against his—and in that intoxicating embrace, they had lost themselves completely. They were two strangers wrapped around each other, surrendering to a night of wild passion, breaking through boundaries he hadn't even known existed. It felt as if they had explored each other's depths in ways that transcended mere physical connection, sharing an intensity that left him both breathless and bewildered.
“But why did she choose me? What was last night really about?” Finn asked himself, frustration bubbling up inside him. His mind spiraled in circles, grappling with the overwhelming questions when a sudden knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. His breath caught in his throat as he hesitated, his hand hovering over the knob.
He finally opened the door to find a young woman standing there, balancing a tray of breakfast—coffee, pastries, and a few other items.
“For you,” she said with a polite smile, placing the tray on the central table before disappearing as quickly as she had arrived.
Finn stood there, staring at the breakfast, his stomach rumbling but his mind still reeling. He sank into a chair, his heart pounding. “What just happened?” he muttered under his breath. “Eva left while I was sleeping… She didn’t even stay to explain why she brought me here. Am I just some kind of fling to her?”
He looked at the tray, the coffee steaming invitingly, yet all he felt was confusion and tension. “I’m just a bartender. How can I be here, in her world, like this?” His mind raced, digging deeper into the chaos. “Why did I let myself get swept away? God, I’m such an idiot. How did I think I could handle this?”
Finn rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the swirl of emotions. “She must see me as just a passing moment… or worse, a game. What does that say about me?” The breakfast sat untouched, the weight of the night before crashing down on him. “What was I thinking?”