Chapter 1 - The Flirt
Caliere POV
“What’s a beautiful woman doing sitting all alone at a bar?” I asked, watching her stir her drink with a straw, her back still turned to me.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even pause. Just kept stirring.
“Let me guess,” I went on, leaning on the counter like I had all the time in the world. “You were supposed to be at a fancy restaurant with your new boyfriend, but he didn’t show. And now, you’re in a bar that doesn’t suit you, drinking cheap liquor because you don’t want to waste a sexy dress by going home.”
Still nothing.
Then her hand slid into view on the counter—slender fingers, perfect nails, and a diamond ring catching the dim light.
“He’s my husband,” she said, pulling her hand back.
I took a slow breath, disappointed but not showing it. My eyes drifted down the line of her back. Whoever designed that dress deserved an award for leaving it open all the way to her lower back. The peach fabric melted into her chocolate skin like it was made for her.
But it wasn’t the dress or the jewelry that hooked me. It was the fact that she didn’t belong here. Not in this place.
The bar itself wasn’t terrible, but the men in it were—and they’d been eyeing her like vultures. I’d been looking too, but I knew how to take no for an answer. They didn’t.
“Last-minute cancellations really suck,” I said, ignoring the fact she’d basically flipped me off with that ring.
She deserved better. And by better, I meant me.
“It doesn’t when you’re used to it.”
She finally turned toward me, revealing dark, beautiful eyes and makeup so subtle it almost looked like none at all. Her lips were glossy. Her chest rose in a way that made my muscles tighten. But more than that—her voice. It was sweet but bruised, like she was holding in tears for later.
Honestly, I wasn’t much of a flirt—especially not with women. When I did talk to one, it usually meant sex. And this married woman was no different in that sense. She was stunning, magnetic. But she was… different. I couldn’t name how.
“Why don’t I buy you a drink?” I said, sliding onto the stool next to her. The chair squeaked under my weight.
She smirked and called over the waiter. “Your most expensive alcohol,” she told him.
He nodded and walked off. She went back to stirring her empty glass like I wasn’t even there. I had to admit—that made me smile.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“You think I’m worth a glass of cheap alcohol?” she said, face unreadable.
“Honestly? I don’t think you’re worth anything.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“I don’t mean it like that,” I added. “A woman’s worth shouldn’t be something you can slap a price tag on. If it is, then she’s just a commodity—and money can buy anything on a shelf.”
She didn’t speak, just studied me. The waiter set down her drink and left.
“Sidney Clarke,” she said at last. “Mrs. Clarke, for you.”
I nodded, smirking. “Caliere.” I offered my hand, but she just lifted her glass and sipped.
Nice.
If anything, her pushback only pulled me in closer.
I ordered a beer and watched her in the soft light—how she lifted her glass, the faint wet shine on her lips, the quiet elegance in every movement.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was electric.
“So, Caliere,” she said, pushing her glass back for a refill, “what’s a handsome man doing alone at a bar?”
“You think I’m handsome?”
She didn’t answer—just looked me over. I already knew.
Sidney downed her second glass and ordered another.
“I think you should take it easy,” I told her.
“What, worried about the bill?” she asked.
“No. I’m worried about you.”
Her lips parted slightly, then closed again. She swallowed.
“If you get wasted, I’ll have to take you to my place since I don’t know where you live,” I said. “And I don’t think Mrs. Clarke wants to wake up in a stranger’s bed.”
She leaned in slightly. “Really, I don’t care which bed I wake up in anymore… as long as he fucks me better than my husband ever did.”
