What is this feeling

Five days had passed since the incident outside the club. Each day since had been filled with mundane tasks, countless meetings, and an underlying restlessness I couldn't shake. As I woke up this morning, the lingering thoughts of Elena still clouded my mind. I got out of bed and stretched, trying to focus on the day ahead.

My morning routine was a ritual of efficiency and precision. I stepped into my luxurious bathroom, a space designed for tranquility and functionality. The white marble tiles were cold underfoot, and the vast mirror reflected my perpetually composed self. I turned on the shower, waiting for the water to reach the perfect temperature before stepping in. The hot water cascaded over me, washing away the remnants of the previous night's unrest.

After the shower, I dried off and wrapped myself in a plush robe. Standing before the mirror, I studied my reflection. The green eyes staring back at me were calculating, always hiding the turmoil within.

I dressed in my usual attire—a perfectly tailored black suit and tie, polished black shoes, and a Rolex watch that gleamed subtly under the lights. My hair was meticulously styled, every strand in place. Satisfied with my appearance, I headed to my office.

The drive was uneventful, my thoughts drifting to the encounter with Elena. Her image seemed to haunt me, and I couldn't understand why. Arriving at the office, I nodded curtly to the staff, acknowledging their greetings with the bare minimum of civility.

My office was a sanctuary of order and power, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. I settled behind my massive mahogany desk, flipping through documents that required my attention.

Time passed quickly, each meeting blurring into the next. Investors, partners, and executives all vying for my approval. It was monotonous, and my mind kept wandering back to Elena.

By noon, I was ready for a break. I decided to have lunch at one of my favorite restaurants, a place where I could enjoy a moment of solitude. The restaurant was exclusive, catering only to VIP members. When I arrived, the staff greeted me with the utmost respect, escorting me to a private table.

The restaurant was an elegant blend of modern design and timeless luxury. Soft lighting created an intimate atmosphere, and the muted conversations of other patrons provided a comforting background hum. I scanned the room, taking in the sight of well-dressed individuals engrossed in their meals and discussions.

As I perused the menu, a movement caught my eye. Across the room, Elena was seated at a table with a man. I felt a sharp pang of something unfamiliar—jealousy. It unsettled me, this irrational emotion that I couldn't quite place. My gaze locked onto her, and I watched her laugh at something the man said. The feeling intensified, but I masked it behind a cold exterior.

I signaled for a waiter. "Bring the most expensive wine to that table," I instructed, nodding towards Elena's direction. The waiter's eyes widened slightly but he quickly composed himself and nodded.

As I waited, I kept my eyes on Elena. When the waiter arrived at her table with the wine, I watched her expression shift to one of confusion. The waiter gestured towards me, and Elena turned her gaze in my direction. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded. I smirked, a deliberate show of control. But then, she turned back to her companion, dismissing me.

I didn't like him. There was something about the way he leaned in close, the way he made her laugh, that irked me. I clenched my jaw, not understanding why it mattered. Why did I care? What was this gnawing feeling inside me?

The waiter returned to take my order, but my attention was only half on the menu. "I'll have the filet mignon, medium rare, with a side of asparagus," I said curtly, handing back the menu without looking up.

As I waited for my food, I kept stealing glances at Elena's table. The man was talking animatedly, and she seemed genuinely interested. I didn't understand why this bothered me so much. I was Carmen Steele, CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. I had no time for such petty emotions.

My food arrived, and I forced myself to focus on it. The steak was cooked to perfection, but I hardly tasted it. My eyes kept drifting back to Elena. Her presence had a strange hold on me, one that I couldn't shake.

Finally, I decided I'd had enough. I paid for my meal and stood up, casting one last glance at Elena's table. She was engrossed in conversation, seemingly oblivious to the effect she had on me. As I walked past her table, I couldn't resist a parting shot.

"Enjoy the wine," I said, my voice colder than I intended.

Elena looked up, startled, and our eyes met once more. This time, there was a hint of recognition, a spark of something unspoken.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice steady but her eyes searching mine.

I nodded and walked away, my emotions a tangled mess. I didn't understand what was happening to me, why this woman had such an effect on me. As I stepped out into the daylight, I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image of Elena from my thoughts. This was more than a passing infatuation; it was something deeper, something I couldn't control.

And for someone like me, who thrived on control, that was terrifying.