She was distracted when a tall imposing man grabbed her and kissed her without permission

The Unexpected Encounter at the Metropolitan Arts Gallery

Olivia Carter stood on the sidewalk outside the Metropolitan Arts Gallery. Her phone was pressed to her ear as she tried to hear over the cacophony of the street festival happening around her.

Vendors shouted about their wares. Musicians competed for attention. What seemed like half of Manhattan had decided to crowd into this particular block on this particular Saturday afternoon.

“I promise you the Rothkco piece will be positioned exactly as we discussed,” she said.

Shifting her portfolio to her other arm, she continued, “The lighting crew confirmed they can achieve the precise angle you requested.”

She had been working on this exhibition for eight months. These were eight months of careful negotiations, delicate handling of artist egos, and meticulous planning of every detail.

The Modern Master’s retrospective would be the gallery’s most prestigious show in a decade. As the senior curator, everything rested on her shoulders.

At 29, Olivia had earned her reputation through relentless dedication and an eye for detail that bordered on obsessive. Her colleagues admired her. Her few friends worried she worked too much.

Her mother called every Sunday to ask when she would finally meet someone and settle down. It was as if she had time for dating when her career was finally taking off.

She ended the call and checked her watch. The pre-exhibition meeting started in 20 minutes. This meant she needed to navigate through this festival chaos and somehow arrive looking professional.

She didn’t want to look like she had fought her way through a street fair. Olivia started weaving through the crowd, clutching her portfolio protectively.

The festival celebrated some local heritage month. It was complete with food stalls emitting competing aromas and live bands playing on corners. What appeared to be an impromptu dance competition was blocking the intersection.

She was calculating alternate routes when she heard the shouting. “Mr. Rhodes!” “Julian, over here!” “Julian, is it true about the merger?” “Who’s the mystery woman from last week?”

Olivia glanced over and saw a group of photographers pushing through the crowd. Their cameras were raised as they chased someone. She had lived in New York long enough to recognize paparazzi when she saw them.

Some celebrity must be nearby, probably trying to enjoy the festival anonymously. She turned back to her path, determined not to get caught up in whatever drama was unfolding.

She had her own crisis to manage. Namely, she needed to get across town without destroying her carefully organized portfolio. Then everything happened at once.

A hand gripped her arm. Olivia spun around, startled. She found herself face to face with a man who seemed to radiate intensity.

He was tall, well over six feet, with dark hair that was slightly disheveled. He had the kind of chiseled features that belonged in fashion magazines.

His gray eyes locked onto hers with an urgency that made her breath catch. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Please forgive me.”

Before Olivia could ask what he was apologizing for, he pulled her closer and kissed her. Her mind went blank. His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle despite the urgency of the moment.

One of his hands cradled the back of her head. The other wrapped around her waist. For several heartbeats, Olivia forgot where she was.

She forgot the meeting. She forgot everything except the unexpected electricity of this stranger’s kiss. Camera flashes exploded around them like lightning. Reality crashed back.

Olivia pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss. Her face was burning with a mixture of shock and something she refused to name. “What the hell?” she gasped.

The man looked genuinely apologetic, though his arm remained protectively around her as photographers swarmed closer. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “They were cornering me and I panicked.” “I saw you and thought if they believed I was with someone, they might back off.” “Oh Julian, who’s the girl?” “How long have you been seeing her?” “Is this why you canceled the engagement to Sienna?”

Olivia’s portfolio slipped from her grip. The man, Julian apparently, caught it smoothly with his free hand. He somehow kept the photographers at a distance with his body.

“Guys, come on,” he said with practiced charm. “Give us some space.” “You got your photo.” “Let us enjoy the festival.” “Just one quote, Julian!” “What’s her name?”

A camera lens pushed too close to Olivia’s face. She flinched back instinctively. Julian’s demeanor shifted in an instant.

The charming smile vanished. It was replaced by cold authority. “That’s enough,” he said. His voice cut through the chaos with unexpected command. “You have your pictures now. Back off before I call building security.”

Something in his tone made the photographers hesitate. They exchanged glances and took a few more distant shots. Then they began to disperse, though Olivia noticed several still hovering nearby.

Julian turned back to her. The hard edge melted from his expression. “I truly apologize,” he said. “That was completely inappropriate and you have every right to be angry.”

“Angry?” Olivia snatched her portfolio back from him. “You kissed me without permission in front of a dozen cameras, and angry is what you think I should be?” “Try furious.” “Try ready to file assault charges.” “It would be completely justified,” she added.

He pulled out a business card from his jacket. “I’m Julian Rhodes.” “Please send me the bill for whatever legal counsel you need, or therapy, or anything else this incident costs you.” “I’ll cover everything.”

Olivia stared at the card. Julian Rhodes. The name triggered recognition. He was a tech billionaire who founded some security software company that revolutionized data protection or something.

He was a regular feature in business magazines, though she paid minimal attention to that world. “I don’t want your money,” she said. Shoving the card back at him, she said, “I want you to not assault random women on the street.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He didn’t take the card back. “But I’d like to at least explain, if you’ll give me five minutes.” “There’s a coffee shop just around the corner.” “It’s quiet and public, and you can leave whenever you want.”

“I have a meeting in 15 minutes,” she countered. “Then I’ll walk with you and explain on the way,” he pleaded. “Please, I owe you that much.”

Olivia wanted to tell him exactly where he could walk, but something in his expression stopped her. Beneath the polished exterior and obvious wealth, he looked genuinely distressed. He didn’t look manipulative or entitled, just honestly sorry.

“Fine,” she said. “Talk while we walk, but if you touch me again without permission, I’m screaming for the police.” “Understood,” he replied.