The Swimmer’S Private Interview
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Isaac: A world-class Fencer (Hungary is legendary for this). He’s known for his "Ice King" persona—precise, quiet, and impossible to read behind his mesh mask.
Hanna: An intern at a major Budapest news outlet. She’s brilliant at research but struggles with the "shark-like" nature of sports journalism. Her glasses aren't just for vision; she uses them as a shield when she’s nervous
The air inside the Duna Aréna in Budapest didn’t behave like normal air. It was a thick, humid fog of chlorine and high-stakes tension that clung to the back of Hanna’s throat. Usually, she loved this building—its futuristic silver curves were a jewel of Hungary’s Danube bank—but today, the arena felt like a tomb.
A few meters away, the water in the competition pool was still swaying, a rhythmic sloshing that echoed against the high ceilings. Isaac Thorne had just finished his morning heat, and as usual, he had turned the lane into a blur of predatory speed.
Isaac was more than just a swimmer; in the world of Hungarian sports, he was a titan. With a dual-heritage background that gave him a sharp, international appeal and a stroke that looked like it was powered by a silent engine, he was the crown jewel of the national team. But to the press, he was known as "The Great Wall." He was polite, he was professional, and he said absolutely nothing of substance.
....
"Isaac! Isaac, over here!"
The shouted names came in a frantic mix of Hungarian and English. The seasoned sports reporters from Nemzeti Sport and the big television towers were practically climbing over the railings of the mixed zone.
Hanna squeezed her voice recorder until her plastic casing creaked. She was standing on the very edge of the scrum, her smaller frame buried behind the broad shoulders of cameramen who didn't care that she existed.
....
"Mr. Thorne! Just a word on the 200-meter butterfly split!" she chirped, her voice high and desperate.
Isaac paused. For a fleeting second, his gaze swept over the crowd. His eyes were a piercing, icy grey—the color of the Danube on a winter morning. He adjusted the towel around his neck, droplets of water glistening on his tan skin, and offered a curt, practiced nod to a veteran reporter he’d known for years.
issac(ml)
The focus is on the finals," Isaac said, his voice deep and deceptively calm. "The water felt good today. That’s all.
....
But the rumors about the shoulder injury—?"
Isaac didn’t blink. He gave one last, sweeping glance that seemed to pass
Then turned and vanished through the heavy doors leading to the locker rooms.
The silence that followed was worse than the noise. As the crowd of professional journalists dispersed, chatting and checking their high-end gear, Hanna stood frozen. Beside her, Chloe, her best friend and fellow intern, slowly lowered her camera. The lens cap was off, but the memory card was empty of anything meaningful.
chloe (fl friend)
We didn't get it," Chloe whispered. Her voice trembled, a stark contrast to her usual bubbly energy. "Hanna, he didn't even look at us."
Hanna looked down at her press badge. It was a laminated slip of paper that felt like a death sentence. Under their names, in bold red letters, was the word: INTERN – THE BUDAPEST BEAT.
The Beat was a struggling digital start-up, and their boss, Mr. Varga, was a man who measured success in clicks and "exclusive" headlines. He had been very clear when he handed them their credentials that morning
....
Don’t come back with the same quotes everyone else has. Get me something human from Isaac Thorne, or don't bother coming back for the afternoon shift.”
chloe (fl friend)
If we lose this internship, I’m done," Chloe said, leaning against a concrete pillar. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "My parents already think I'm wasting my time with photography. They want me back in the village working at the bakery by Monday."
Hanna felt a cold knot of dread tighten in her chest. For her, it wasn't just about a job; it was about the years of unpaid hustling, the late-night editing, and the dream of being a real storyteller in the city she loved.
hanna(fl)
We still have the afternoon session," Hanna said, though her voice lacked conviction.
chloe (fl friend)
"It won't matter," Chloe replied, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Did you see the security? They’re closing the deck for the private practices. We missed our window, Hanna. We’re just... we're invisible."
The two girls walked out of the arena and toward the river, the chilly Budapest wind whipping through their light jackets. The Parliament building sat across the water, grand and unmoving, a reminder of a world that felt increasingly out of reach.
Hanna sat on a stone bench, staring at the empty digital recorder in her lap. The "Save" folder was a desert. She thought of Isaac’s face—that cold, disciplined mask. He had everything: fame, talent, and the luxury of silence. He didn't know that his five seconds of dismissed attention meant the end of two careers before they had even started.
chloe (fl friend)
"He’s not a person," Chloe muttered, kicking a loose pebble into the grass. "He’s a machine. How are we supposed to report on a machine?"
Hanna didn't answer. She was looking at the back entrance of the arena, where the elite athletes’ cars were parked. She felt a spark of something that wasn't quite sadness and wasn't quite anger. It was desperation.
hanna(fl)
"I’m not going back to the office yet," Hanna said suddenly, standing up.
chloe (fl friend)
What? Hanna, Varga is going to fire us over the phone if we aren't there in twenty minutes."
hanna(fl)
He’s going to fire us anyway," Hanna said, her eyes narrowing as she watched a sleek black car pull toward the gates. "But I’m not losing my job because I was too polite to push through a crowd. If Isaac Thorne wants to be a ghost, I’m going to have to learn how to haunt him."
chloe (fl friend)
Chloe looked at her, terrified but slightly impressed. "What are you saying?"
hanna(fl)
I'm saying we don't go to the office. We stay. We wait. And we find a way into that 'private' session."
fake friend
The cool night air of Budapest did little to soothe Hanna’s nerves as she stood on the ledge. The gala was being held at a luxury hotel overlooking the Danube, a celebration for the national swim team. Security was airtight at the front, but an intern with a point to prove and a pair of sturdy sneakers could be very resourceful
Hanna hiked up her borrowed cocktail dress—which was a bit too long and slightly itchy—and scrambled through a half-open window into the velvet-draped hallway of the VIP wing.
hanna(fl)
Just one quote," she whispered to herself, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses. "Just one human sentence from Isaac Thorne, and I save my career
The party was a blur of gold leaf, expensive cologne, and the clinking of crystal. Hanna felt like a moth in a room full of peacocks. She scanned the crowd, her heart hammering. There he was. Isaac was standing near the balcony, surrounded by sponsors. He looked different out of the water—sharp, dangerous, and impossibly handsome in a charcoal suit that hugged his swimmer’s frame.
....
You look like you’re dying of thirst, little bird.
hanna(fl)
Hanna jumped as a tall man in an expensive vest appeared, handing her a glass of amber liquid. "Oh, thank you. Is this apple juice?
....
The man smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Something like that. A special blend for a special guest."
Hanna, her throat parched from the climb and the anxiety, took a long, deep gulp. It tasted sweet, with a stinging, botanical aftertaste. Within minutes, the room began to tilt. The golden lights turned into long, smeared ribbons of fire. Her glasses felt heavy on her face
....
You're cute," the man whispered, stepping closer. "In a nerdy sort of way. You must be the 'virgin glass girl' everyone ignores
He grabbed her arm. Hanna tried to pull away, but her legs felt like overcooked noodles. The "juice" was a potent cocktail of high-proof spirits and something else that made her blood feel like it was boiling. He began dragging her toward the quiet corridor of the hotel suites.
hanna(fl)
No... let go," she mumbled, her tongue thick. "I need... I need an interview..."
At the other end of the hall, the heavy mahogany door of a suite swung open. Isaac Thorne stumbled out, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He was flushed, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He and his teammates had been pushed into a "celebratory" drinking game by the old-guard coaches, and the sheer volume of Hungarian pálinka had finally breached his iron discipline.
....
His friend, Márk, stumbled into the room next door, waving a hand dismissively. "Sleep it off, Thorne! We’re legends tonight!
Down the hall, the man in the vest was pinning a girl against the wall. She was small, wearing glasses that were slipping off her nose, and she looked terrified.
....
"I said stay still," the man growled, his hand sliding up her thigh.
Isaac’s vision was swimming, but the sight triggered a primal, protective flash of white-hot anger. He straightened his spine, the predatory athlete replacing the drunken celebrity. He marched down the hall, his shadow looming large over the pair.
issac(ml)
Let. Her. Go," Isaac rasped. His voice was a low, guttural vibration that felt like a physical blow.
....
The man looked up, paling as he saw the Olympic champion glaring at him with eyes that looked ready to kill. "Hey, Thorne, she’s just a fan—
issac(ml)
Go away before I break your arm," Isaac said, his voice terrifyingly calm
The man didn't wait. He scrambled away, disappearing into the elevator.
Hanna slumped against the wall, her head lolling back. Isaac caught her before she hit the floor. The scent of her—vanilla and something sweet—hit his intoxicated senses like a wave
issac(ml)
Who are you?" he muttered, his hands gripping her waist
hanna(fl)
Hanna..." she breathed, but it was too quiet. She didn't say her last name. She didn't say she was a reporter. She just felt the heat of his body and the safety of his arms.
Isaac didn't know why he didn't call security. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the way she looked at him—not like a fan, but like a drowning person clinging to a liferaft. He pulled her into his room and kicked the door shut
The room was dim, lit only by the blue glow of the Budapest skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Hanna reached up, her fingers trembling as she touched his chest. The alcohol had stripped away her fear, leaving only a raw, burning need.
The intoxication—had created a vacuum where only the two of them existed.
hanna(fl)
"You're the swimmer," she whispered, her eyes unfocused.
Isaac looked down at her. He reached out, his large fingers hooking behind her ears. He slowly pulled her glasses off her face and set them on the nightstand. Without the frames, her eyes looked massive, dark, and inviting.
issac(ml)
You shouldn't be here," he whispered, his voice thick with desire
hanna(fl)
Don't leave me," she replied, pulling him down by his lapels.
The kiss was desperate, fueled by the reckless heat of the drinks. Isaac’s control, usually his greatest strength, snapped. He lifted her onto the bed, his hands finding the zipper of her dress. The friction of his skin against hers felt like electricity.
Because they were both lost in a haze of intoxication, there were no words, only the rhythmic, salt-tinged heat of the moment. Isaac moved with the same fluid power he used in the water, and Hanna met him with a frantic energy, her hands mapping the hard muscles of his back. In that dark room, the world didn't matter. The job didn't matter. There was only the sound of their breath and the crashing of the waves in their heads.
The sunlight hit the Duna Aréna across the river and reflected directly into the suite, piercing Hanna’s eyelids.
She groaned, her head throbbing with a rhythmic, pounding ache. As she shifted, she felt the weight of a heavy arm draped across her waist. She froze. Slowly, she turned her head.
Isaac Thorne was asleep beside her. His face was relaxed, his dark hair messy against the white pillow.
The memories hit her like a physical blow: the climb, the drink, the man in the hall, and then... this.
hanna(fl)
Oh my God," she whispered, her heart leaping into her throat. "He’s going to kill me. He’s going to sue me. I’m going to jail
Panic, cold and sharp, replaced the warmth of the night. She scrambled out of bed, her limbs shaking. She found her dress on the floor, her underwear tangled in the sheets. She dressed in a blur of frantic movements, not even daring to breathe too loudly.
She grabbed her shoes and her glasses from the nightstand. She looked for her bag, grabbing a handful of items from the desk in the dark corner and shoving them into her purse.
She took one last look at the sleeping giant on the bed—the man who was supposed to be her ticket to a career, and was now the source of her utter ruin. She bolted out the door, slipped through the service exit, and didn't stop running until she reached the tram stop.
Hanna reached her apartment, her hair a bird's nest and her eyes bloodshot. Chloe was already there, pacing the small living room, her face pale.
chloe (fl friend)
Where have you been?!" Chloe screamed the moment Hanna stepped inside. "I’ve been calling you for six hours! Varga called—he’s furious! He said if we don't have the files by noon, he’s sending our termination papers to the university!"
hanna(fl)
Hanna slumped against the door, her head spinning. "I... I went to the party. I tried, Chloe."
chloe (fl friend)
And? Did you get it? Did you get the interview?"
hanna(fl)
Hanna looked at her shoes, her voice a whisper. "No. I didn't get anything."
chloe (fl friend)
Chloe’s face transformed. The fear turned into a sharp, jagged anger. "You’re joking. You stayed out all night, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge, and you have nothing? Hanna, this was my last chance! My father is literally waiting for the call to bring me home to the bakery!"
hanna(fl)
I'm sorry," Hanna sobbed. "I just... I lost control.
chloe (fl friend)
You're so selfish!" Chloe yelled. She reached out, grabbing Hanna’s bag. "Give me my press card. I’m going to go down there myself. I’ll beg, I’ll climb the fence—give it to me!"
Hanna fumbled with her purse, dumping the contents onto the small glass coffee table. Receipts, a lipstick, her recorder—but no card.
She searched again, her heart sinking. She remembered grabbing things off the desk in Isaac’s room in the dark.
hanna(fl)
"I... I don't have it," Hanna whispered, her face going white. "Chloe, I think I left it in his room."
The silence that followed was deafening.
chloe (fl friend)
You did what?" Chloe’s voice was dangerously low.
hanna(fl)
"I must have dropped it when I was leaving. I was in such a rush—
chloe (fl friend)
You stupid, incompetent girl!" Chloe shrieked.
She swept her arm across the table in a fit of rage, sending the glass vase and the recorder flying. The vase shattered against the floor, shards of glass spraying across Hanna’s feet
chloe (fl friend)
Chloe, please—"
chloe (fl friend)
You didn't just fail yourself, you failed me
chloe (fl friend)
Get out!" Chloe pointed to the door, her eyes brimming with tears of betrayal. "You're not a reporter, Hanna. You're just a mess. Go away before I say something I can't take back."
Hanna backed away, the sound of breaking glass echoing in her ears. She had no job, no best friend, and she had left a trail of breadcrumbs leading straight back to the most famous man in Hungary.
.
The morning light in Budapest was unforgiving. Isaac groaned, his head feeling like it had been pierced by a trident. He sat up, the silk sheets sliding off his chest, and looked at the empty side of the bed. It was cold. The girl from last night—the one with the soft voice and the glasses—was gone.
He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand, but his fingers brushed against something plastic. He picked it up. It was a press badge
CHLOE – INTERN – THE BUDAPEST BEAT"
Isaac stared at the photo on the card. He was still half-drunk and his vision was blurry. He didn’t realize the girl in the photo didn't quite match the girl from the night before; he just assumed the "Chloe" on the card was the girl who had been in his arms.
issac(ml)
So, you were a reporter," he muttered, his voice gravelly. A flash of irritation sparked in his chest, followed by a strange, lingering sensation he couldn't name.
Hanna didn't sleep. She spent the morning shaking, knowing that if she didn't get Chloe’s card back, her friend’s life was over. She practically ran back to the hotel, her heart hammering against her ribs. She reached Isaac’s suite, hoping to find a maid or a cleaner, but instead, the door opened just as she reached for the handle
She wasn't met by Isaac. Instead, she was blocked by two people who looked like they were carved out of granite: Viktoria, Isaac’s sleek, sharp-tongued female manager, and Lukas, his towering male head of security.
....
Can I help you?" Viktoria asked, her eyes scanning Hanna’s messy hair and wrinkled clothes with visible disgust.
hanna(fl)
"I... I'm here for... I left something," Hanna stammered, her face turning bright red.
....
You’re one of the 'reporters' from yesterday," Lukas noted, his voice a low rumble. "Why are you lurking here?
Hanna felt the walls closing in. She couldn't say she slept there. She couldn't say she was a thief
hanna(fl)
"I’m here for an interview! Please! I just need five minutes with Mr. Thorne. My job depends on it. I’m begging you."
....
Viktoria let out a sharp, mocking laugh. She stepped closer, flicking a stray thread on Hanna’s sleeve. "An interview? Look at you. You’re mumbling, your clothes are a disaster, and you have zero style. Isaac doesn't talk to amateurs who look like they rolled out of a laundry basket. Go home, little girl."
hanna(fl)
Hanna’s eyes welled with tears. "Please... just five minutes."
From inside the room, Isaac appeared. He was dressed in a simple black hoodie, looking every bit the cold, untouchable athlete again. He looked at Hanna—really looked at her—and his eyes drifted to her wrist. There, a small, beaded bracelet she had worn last night was still hanging by a thread. He remembered the feeling of that bracelet against his skin in the dark.
issac(ml)
Viktoria, stop," Isaac said.
The assistants froze. Isaac walked forward, his presence overwhelming the small hallway. He looked at Hanna’s panicked face and her thick glasses.
issac(ml)
"I need a new PR assistant," Isaac said suddenly. "Someone who knows how the press thinks because they’re desperate to be part of it. The pay is four times an intern’s salary."
hanna(fl)
Hanna gasped, her mouth hanging open. "What?
issac(ml)
Take it or leave it," Isaac said. "But you start now. Go with Viktoria. She’ll give you the paperwork.
hanna(fl)
Hanna was terrified, but the thought of the money—and the chance to stay near the card she needed to find—forced her to nod. "I'll take it."
hanna(fl)
Hanna was terrified, but the thought of the money—and the chance to stay near the card she needed to find—forced her to nod. "I'll take it."
Isaac didn't answer. He just watched the girl with the glasses disappear around the corner, the phantom sensation of the night before tightening his chest.
A week passed. Hanna was drowning in work, kept away from Isaac’s private quarters by Viktoria, who treated her like a servant. She still hadn't found the card.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
Hanna arrived at the athlete’s housing complex only to see Chloe—her "best friend"—standing at the gate, looking smug. Chloe had found out where Isaac lived. She had realized that Isaac thought she was the one in the room that night because of the dropped ID.
chloe (fl friend)
Chloe didn't hesitate. She walked up to Isaac and Lukas in the garden. "Isaac? We need to talk. About that night
chloe (fl friend)
I know I was there," Chloe lied, her voice sweet and manipulative. "And Isaac... I think I’m pregnant
....
Lukas turned bright red, his fists clenching. "You're joking! You’re just looking for a payout!"
But Isaac’s expression went cold and sad. He was a man of honor, even if his heart felt heavy with a strange confusion. He looked at Chloe—who looked nothing like the girl he remembered in the dark, but the "evidence" was there.
issac(ml)
I take responsibility for my actions," Isaac said, his voice hollow. "I will provide a house. I will provide for the child. Lukas, set her up in the off-limit villa near the training center."
That evening, Chloe was packing her things at their shared apartment, a designer bag already on her arm.
hanna(fl)
Why are you doing this?" Hanna asked,
chloe (fl friend)
I'm doing what it takes to survive, Hanna," Chloe snapped. "You got that fancy PR job, didn't you? How did you even get that, anyway? You’re a nobody."
hanna(fl)
"I got it because I was persistent," Hanna said, trying to keep her logic together. "I’m his PR assistant because I can manage his image. It’s a professional contract, Chloe. Nothing more."
chloe (fl friend)
Chloe sneered. "And what? You’re going to fall in love with him while you’re filing his papers? You think a guy like that wants a girl with glasses and no fashion sense?"
hanna(fl)
Hanna looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror. "No. I won't fall for him. I am a tool for his career, and he is a client who pays my bills. I don't see him as a man; I see him as a set of statistics and public relations hurdles. It’s logical."
But as Chloe left for the luxury villa to start her life of lies, Hanna’s "logic" felt very much like a breaking heart.
The next day, the atmosphere at the training center was suffocating. Chloe had already moved into the private villa and was acting like a spoiled queen, screaming at the staff and making Lukas’s life a living hell.
Hanna was rushing to a meeting, clutching a stack of files. She saw the elevator doors closing and lunged for them
hanna(fl)
Wait! Hold the door
She burst into the lift, only to realize it was full. Isaac was standing in the center, flanked by four massive bodyguards and Lukas. The female assistant, Viktoria, was missing. The air in the small space was thick with the scent of Isaac's expensive, aquatic cologne.
The elevator jolted, and Hanna, losing her balance, stumbled forward. She fell directly into Isaac’s chest.
Her forehead hit his collarbone, and her hands instinctively flew up to steady herself, landing on his firm, warm pecs. For a second, time stopped. The heat radiating from him was the exact same heat she remembered from the night of the gala.
Isaac’s breath hitched. He looked down at the top of her head, his hands hovering near her waist but not touching her.
issac(ml)
You know," Isaac said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register that sent shivers down Hanna’s spine. "I’ve fired three assistants this year because they 'accidentally' threw themselves at me in this very lift
hanna(fl)
Hanna snapped her head up, her glasses sliding down her nose. Her heart was racing so fast she thought it might explode. "I... I didn't! It was the lift! And besides..." she gulped, trying to find her voice. "I don't even see you as a man."
The bodyguards let out a collective, stifled gasp. Lukas actually barked out a laugh. No one spoke to Isaac Thorne like that.
Isaac’s eyes darkened. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, his gaze tracing the line of her lips. He felt a sudden, sharp sensation—a memory of her taste—that made his pupils dilate.
issac(ml)
You don't see me as a man?" he whispered.
hanna(fl)
I mean!" Hanna scrambled, her face burning. "I see you as a... a client! You're a brand! A walking, swimming set of KPIs! You’re not a man to me, you’re a contract!"
The elevator doors dinked open.
Hanna didn't wait. She scrambled out, her shoes clicking loudly on the marble floor as she ran toward the exit without looking back.
Inside the lift, the silence was heavy. The assistants were still snickering, but Isaac remained perfectly still. He reached up, touching the spot on his chest where her head had rested.
issac(ml)
A contract," he murmured to himself, a frustrated, confused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
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