Chaos at the festival

Tamara's POV

The man who handed me my handkerchief stood beside me with a lazy smile playing on his lips. His gaze was warm but mischievous, like he knew more than he was letting on. I couldn’t help but feel a pull toward him, as though there was something familiar about him, though I was certain I’d never met him before. He was undeniably handsome, tall with dark, slightly tousled hair, and his scent—God, his scent. It was intoxicating, like a heady mix of cedarwood and something darker, more primal.

“You’re enjoying the festival, I hope?” His voice was smooth, like velvet. There was a playfulness to it, as though he found everything around him amusing.

“I am,” I replied, tilting my head slightly. “Though I have to admit, it’s rare to meet someone I don’t know at events like this.” I gave him a curious look, hoping to uncover more about this mystery man. “And I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Not directly, no. But we have more