ONCE UPON A TIME

Chapter 7

Aria’s POV

The second I stepped into my room and kicked off my shoes, my phone buzzed. I lazily picked it up, expecting another school notification or one of those annoying updates from the social feed, but instead, a single bold message flashed on the screen:

"You have been invited to the Mossberg Gun Showcase."

My heart did a double take.

My lips stretched into a wide grin as I clutched the phone to my chest like it held the secrets of the universe. Guns and my future last name—on the same screen? The universe was practically throwing signs at me like confetti.

Still buzzing with excitement, I dove onto my bed and started researching these Annual Showcases. According to the Armory archives and some online fan forums (yes, he has fan forums), guests get to not only view the newest line of firearms but touch them. Like, physically touch prototypes before they go into mass production. I mean, touching the guns is great and all… but let’s be honest. I was much more interested in getting my hands on the CEO. You know what I mean.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

X: Got the invite?

A: Yes.

X: You coming?

A: Wouldn’t miss it.

X: Great.

There was a pause—a long one. I stared at the screen, waiting for him to say something else. My nerves were bouncing off the walls like rogue plasma bullets. Then—

X: You wanna FT tonight? I could run you through the ceremony stuff. Give you a little preview.

A: I’d love to.

As soon as I sent that message, a wave of panic crashed over me. I glanced in the mirror, and my reflection nearly gave me a heart attack. Barefaced. Hoodie two sizes too big. Hair in the worst excuse for a bun mankind has ever seen.

Girl. No.

I sprinted to the mirror and yanked the hair tie off. My hair flopped down like it was personally offended, and I grabbed my styling wand and quickly fixed the chaos. Then I changed out of my lazy-day pajamas into something still comfortable but infinitely cuter—satin shorts and a matching cami. Simple, soft, understated.

But I wasn’t done.

Oh no. I went to my makeup companion and said the magic words: “Natural glow, slightly flushed cheeks, enhance eyes.”

The machine scanned my face, hummed in approval, and within seconds worked its magic. One of the perks of living a thousand years in the future: no more struggling with eyeliner wings or mismatched foundation. With this tech, you go from disaster to divine in sixty seconds flat.

I checked myself once more. Subtle blush, clear skin, lashes curled. Okay, now I looked like someone who deserved to FaceTime the literal hottest man in history.

Just as I sat down and opened the call, he appeared on screen.

And. I. Died.

His hair was damp and tousled like he had just stepped out of a shower, and he was wearing a slightly sheer white shirt that clung to every chiseled line of his torso. It was like the shirt knew exactly what it was doing. God didn’t just make him—He showed off.

I tried not to gape. I really did.

But then I saw the way his green eyes lingered on me, traveling down slowly, like he was drinking me in too. My cheeks burned.

We both spoke at the same time.

“Hi.”

There was a pause. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. We both knew we were checking each other out, but neither of us said anything. Some moments just don’t need words.

(Skip convo for now...)

Xander’s POV

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

All day, my thoughts kept drifting back to Aria—specifically, to the way she looked in that silk nightgown during our call. It wasn’t even revealing, but something about it was so effortlessly sexy. The way the soft fabric kissed her shoulders. The glow of her skin under the warm lights. And those grey eyes—they haunted me.

I bit my lip and clenched the arms of my office chair to stop myself from slamming my fist on the table. The urge to teleport to her side, to feel her in my arms, was almost unbearable. But then, reality snapped back with a harsh slap as I heard someone clear their throat.

Right. Meeting.

I was currently sitting at the head of the conference table in the executive boardroom. A dozen of my directors were watching me with amused expressions. One of them smirked.

“You, uh, get lucky last night?” he asked with a knowing tone.

Let me explain something—I'm so single, so infamously unavailable, that the mere idea of me talking to a woman sends shockwaves through the company. If I so much as smile at a girl, it becomes gossip material for a month. They act like any woman who catches my attention is some kind of goddess or alien.

If they saw Aria, they’d probably try to offer her stock options just to keep her around.

“Meeting’s over,” I muttered, standing up abruptly. I didn’t need the comments. Not when my mind was already halfway across the stars with her.

I bolted from the room before anyone could ask more questions. I wasn’t ready to tell them about her—not yet. Not until I was sure I could keep her. Not until I understood how this miracle had fallen into my lap.

She felt different. Real.

There was a quiet energy about her, but it wasn’t timid—it was controlled. Like she knew more than she let on. Every time we spoke, I caught glimpses of something bigger just beneath the surface. And those fleeting moments of silence between us? They didn’t feel awkward. They felt like conversations without words. Like our souls were syncing up behind the scenes.

This wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just fascination. It was gravity.

She didn’t just enter my life.

She shifted it.