Wild One | Bbangsaz

Chapter 1

Hanni's

This is it.

This skyscraper doesn't look like anything special. No different from any of this city's dozens of office buildings covered in mirrored windows or gray concrete. But as soon as I cross the threshold, I'll be taking the first step toward my dream.

Every step feels heavy with anticipation. I pause outside the building's tall revolving door, steeling my nerves for what I'm about to do. This is just a consultation, I tell myself. It's not like I'm getting knocked up right here on the spot. They probably won't even prescribe me any fertility drugs yet. All I'm doing is getting more information and learning how the process works. Still, it feels more like I'm jumping off a cliff rather than walking into a doctor's office.

Smoothing my sweaty hands over my skirt, I take a deep breath to chase away the butterflies in my stomach. Then I stride inside and cross the lobby. I've never been so excited or so frightened. There's no doubt in my mind that this is what I want, but having a baby is still a monumental decision. It's not like it's a pair of shoes I can return if I have buyer's remorse. I can't take it back, and it will change my life forever.

In the elevator, I press the button for the thirteenth floor. There's something that strikes me as ominous with that floor number. But I know that it's just my nerves and anxiety working overtime, so I step in.

Just before the doors close, a hand shoves between them and they retreat. A woman in a crisp navy suit and a white shirt steps inside—and damn. My jaw threatens to drop open at the mouthwatering sight. She's so tall. Dark hair classic style. Brown eyes, with just a few lines around them crinkle at the corners in mischief.

I hastily pretend to be fascinated with the carpet so she doesn't catch me ogling her. She hits the button for the top floor and stands a little closer than necessary.

Is she doing that on purpose? Does she not understand the concept of personal space, especially when her personal space is practically rubbing up against mine? No, she's acting perfectly normal; I'm the one who's reading way too much into this situation. Damn these nerves.

I can't turn off my awareness of her. I can smell her cologne. Hell, if I didn't know better, I'd swear I can feel her body heat. My heart beats a little faster as we rumble upward, floor by floor, the tiny enclosed space of the elevator just full of her. Even though she hasn't said a word, her presence is still so intense, almost overpowering.

Dammit, she's perfect.

It's ridiculous how scorching hot she is and how I've run into her here, now, of all times and places. It's almost like the universe is laughing at me. Mocking my decision to give up on finding a partner to plant their seed in my garden of love. Dangling the exact kind of person I've always wanted—and never managed to catch—right in front of me. She even looks about my age, maybe a few years older. I sneak another glance and peg her at early thirties. This is so unfair.

Suddenly, there's a metallic screech. A jolt that makes us both stumble. Our breaths catch simultaneously, and her hands reach out and grab my upper arms. I'm seared by her touch. Every part of me is alive.

My eyes fly open wide. No. No, seriously, come on. You gotta be kidding me.

Ignoring my frantic prayers, the elevator grinds to a jarring halt.

"Shit," the woman grumbles. "You all right?" Her gaze penetrates mine, and I'm unsure if the tightness in my stomach is because of her touch or because of the elevator.

I nod. "Just startled." And a bit pissed off. Although, despite everything, I still can't help noticing that her voice is just as yummy as the rest of her.