Chapter 2 Kissing a stranger

Olivia sat stiffly across the man her father had arranged for her to meet. The small café was quiet, except for the faint hum of chatter around them. The man sitting opposite her looked nothing like she’d imagined. He was short, his shirt stretched too tightly across his belly, and his beady eyes shone with a greedy kind of hunger as they ran over her from head to toe.

She swallowed hard, clutching the handle of her coffee cup.

He leaned forward with a smile that made her skin crawl. “You’re not pretty, but your figure is good. You should be able to give me a child soon.”

Olivia blinked. For a second, she thought she misheard him. Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to stay calm.

To scare him off, she had dotted her face with fake black moles before leaving home. Her reflection in the café mirror had almost made her laugh—she looked ridiculous. But that was the point. She had wanted to look so unappealing that no man in his right mind would want her.

Yet, somehow, this man wasn’t deterred.

He leaned back, smiling as if he was being generous. “I can pay to have those moles removed. Once your face is back to normal, we can find a hotel and spend the night together. If you get pregnant and have a son, we’ll marry. If not, we can break up later.”

The words hit her like a slap.

Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup until her knuckles turned white. Every instinct in her body screamed to throw the hot drink in his face. She took a shaky breath, trying to stay composed.

He didn’t even notice her disgust. He just kept talking, bragging about his business, his money, his house like any of it could make up for his ugliness, inside or out.

Olivia’s ears buzzed. How could my father do this to me?

Just as she was about to stand and walk away, movement caught her attention.

A tall man entered the café, his presence commanding even though he sat in a sleek black wheelchair. His suit was perfectly tailored, his dark hair brushed neatly back, and his expression calm yet unreadable.

For a brief moment, Olivia forgot to breathe.

He was nothing like the man sitting across from her. His aura was colder, quieter almost dangerous. His face was sharp and handsome, but his eyes held something deeper, something that drew her in despite herself.

Her heart gave an involuntary thump.

“Hey!” The man in front of her slammed his hand on the table, snapping her out of her trance. “Are you even listening to me?”

Olivia blinked, startled.

He followed her gaze and noticed the man in the wheelchair. His lips twisted into a sneer. “Who are you looking at? That cripple? Don’t tell me you find him better-looking than me.”

Olivia’s jaw tightened.

The man kept going, louder now, his voice full of arrogance. “You’re not only ugly, you’re shallow too. You think that cripple can give you a better life than me? Look at him—he can’t even walk!”

Something inside Olivia snapped.

She stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. The man blinked up at her in shock as she said, her voice clear and steady, “I’m sorry, but the whole having-children thing is out of the question. My family might want me to marry you, but I don’t. I’ve already found someone else.”

He stared, confused. “What?”

Olivia turned her eyes toward the man in the wheelchair, who was now closer. Her heart pounded wildly, but she forced herself to keep her cool. “And it’s him.”

Before her brain could stop her, she walked toward the man and placed her foot in front of his wheelchair, halting it gently.

His dark eyes lifted to meet hers, questioning.

Then, without thinking too much, Olivia cupped his face and pressed her lips softly against his.

The kiss was quick, almost clumsy, but it was real enough to silence the whole café. The man’s lips were warm, his skin smooth beneath her fingers. For a brief moment, everything—the humiliation, the anger, the fear—melted away.

She pulled back, breathless.

The man blinked up at her, shock flickering in his eyes. He didn’t push her away. Instead, his expression shifted from surprise to something deeper, something unreadable.

Herbert Wyatt never expected a woman to touch him, much less kiss him. His body usually reacted harshly to any contact with women—rashes, weakness, even shortness of breath. Yet, as Olivia’s lips left his, he felt nothing but the faint scent of freesia.

Sweet, light, clean.

No pain. No reaction.

Just warmth.

Meanwhile, the man she had come with was gaping, his face red with fury. “You! You! How dare you humiliate me like this!” he shouted, slamming his hand on the table so hard that his coffee cup toppled and spilled across the surface.

Olivia turned toward him, still flushed from the kiss, her chin lifted. “I told you, I’m not interested. So stop wasting both our time.”

His jaw worked furiously. “You’ll regret this! I’ll make sure your father hears about it!”

“Go ahead,” she said calmly. “I’ve already stopped caring what he thinks.”

He glared at her one last time before storming out of the café, his loud footsteps fading away.

The silence that followed was almost peaceful.

Olivia let out a small sigh of relief, then realized what she had just done. She turned quickly to the man in the wheelchair, her eyes wide.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to—well, I meant to—but not like that—”

But the chair was empty.

Herbert Wyatt was gone.

She spun around, scanning the café, but he had already left through the side door. Only the faint trace of his cologne lingered in the air—clean, masculine, unforgettable.

Her fingers touched her lips, and her heart skipped again.

“What just happened?” she whispered to herself.

The barista behind the counter giggled softly. “Girl, whoever that man was, you just kissed him like it was a movie.”

Olivia blushed, grabbing her bag. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered, rushing out.

Outside, the cool evening breeze brushed her face, calming her racing thoughts. She couldn’t believe what she had done kissing a total stranger in front of everyone.

But she couldn’t deny the feeling that lingered the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze, the strange comfort that his presence brought.

For someone she had met for only a few seconds, Herbert Wyatt had left an impression she couldn’t shake.

As she walked home, her lips curved into a small smile. “At least that creep will never want to see me again,” she murmured.

Then, quietly, as if saying it to herself, she added, “But I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”

Far away, inside a black luxury car parked near the café, Herbert Wyatt sat silently, his fingers touching his lips.

His assistant glanced at him through the mirror. “Sir, are you all right?”

Herbert didn’t answer right away. He looked out the window, eyes still calm but thoughtful.

Finally, he said in a low voice, “Find out who she is.”

The car pulled away into the city lights, and Olivia had no idea that her impulsive kiss had just tied her fate to the man everyone called the cripple billionaire.