Bobby’s Got Morals
The bass thrums through the club, lights strobing as Sofia Reyes sways in the center of the floor, light brown hair wild down her shoulders. She’s drunk enough not to care that every eye is on her, drunk enough to enjoy it.
It was Mindy’s idea to go out. It always is. Sofia doesn’t say yes every time, but this week has been long, bone-deep exhausting, and she needed the distraction. Jenny tagged along too, though she slipped out early with her boyfriend.
Across the room, a VIP crowd clusters around velvet ropes and bottle service. Robert Hale arrives late, clapping his friend Greg, the birthday boy, on the back in apology. He’s about to order a drink when something pulls his attention. Not something. Someone. A flash of legs in shimmery tights. A red dress that catches the light with every turn. The curve of a body moving with the music. He can’t look away.
Greg follows his gaze and leans close, shouting over the beat. “Don’t even bother, man. I tried already. Girl’s a bitch. Shoved me right off.”
Robert arches a brow, eyes still locked on her. “Let me guess, you came up behind her, tried grinding like a creep. That your big move?”
“Oh, you’ve gone romantic now?” Greg smirks, pressing a glass into his hand. “Come have a drink.”
Robert accepts the whiskey but doesn’t move. He’s too busy watching, waiting. Greg’s right, romantic has never been his style. But something about this girl sets a warning off inside him. A voice he rarely hears, one he can’t ignore that screams at him: Don’t screw this up.
He hasn’t even really seen her. Not fully. Just flickers of a face when her hair swings, when the crowd parts for a second. It’s maddening. A pull coils tight in his chest, one he can’t explain, one he doesn’t want to.
Finally, the moment comes when she drifts toward the bar, breathless from dancing, calling for a drink. Another man, who had also been waiting for his moment, slides in behind, bracing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.
“Move,” Sofia snaps, her voice sharp. She feels his body press too close, heat and sweat smothering. She tries to push him away, but his hand clamps on her arm, dragging her closer.
“Relax, baby,” he slurs against her ear. “You looked like you wanted company.”
“Hey. Walk away.” Robert’s voice cuts through. He steps forward, close enough that the man stumbles back. “She’s with me.”
The guy sizes him up, ready to say something back, but that fight dies when he registers the height, the muscle, the authority radiating from Robert’s stance. He scoffs, mutters something under his breath, and leaves..
Sofia adjusts her bag, tugging her sleeve straight, chin ducked. “I could’ve handled that.”
Robert’s smile is easy. “Maybe. But you shouldn’t have to.”
That earns him a dry laugh from her. “What’s next, you gonna tell me I’m too pretty to be here?”
When she finally looks up, Robert feels like he’s been sucker punched. Amber eyes catch his, fierce and bright, hypnotizing. She’s even more beautiful than he imagined in those stolen glimpses.
Sofia falters too, just for a heartbeat. But the shield rises fast, her walls snapping back into place.
“Nope.” He leans against the bar, calm green eyes steady on hers. “You’re exactly where you want to be, pretty girl. I just figured you deserved better than him.”
For a second she’s caught off guard, lips twitching toward a smirk. But the bartender sets her drink down, and she turns to grab it.
“My name’s Robert,” he says as she lifts the glass. “Yours?”
“Uh, Pretty Girl is fine.” She sidesteps, angling past him. “Excuse me.”
That’s when Mindy bounces over, glitter dusted across her cheeks. “Sofi! I’m heading out with that hottie, Derek!” She winks, already drifting backward. “You good? You’ll find a ride home?”
“Yeah.” Sofia waves her off without thinking. “See ya.”
Robert frowns, watching Mindy vanish into the crowd. “You’ve got some shitty friends… Sofi.”
“It’s Sofia.” She shrugs, sipping through her straw. “My good friends don’t waste their nights in places like this.”
He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “Let me drive you home. Just a ride, no strings. I won’t even come up. I’ll just wait in my car until you’re safely inside.”
She snorts. “Wow. What a gentleman. Sounds like the perfect setup for a murder podcast.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “A murder podcast? Please. Worst-case scenario, I’m a terrible first-date story.”
Sofia studies him over the rim of her glass, wary yet curious, straw twirling between her fingers. “Do you always pick up drunk girls at bars and offer them rides?”
“You’re the first,” Robert answers without a beat of hesitation.
Sofia laughs, rolling her eyes. “Sure, Bobby.”
He blinks. “Bobby?”
“Yeah.” She smirks, finishing her drink in one swallow. “Bobby suits you better. You seem too… happy. I don’t know. You smile too much to be a Robert.”
“My friends call me Rob,” he offers.
“We’re not friends.” She sets her glass down and pushes off the bar before he can reply. “I’ve got energy for one more dance. Come on.”
She doesn’t ask. She hooks his wrist, tugging him into the pulse of the floor. And Rob follows without resistance.
The music swallows them whole. Sofia moves like fire, hips rolling, hair damp against her neck. Rob keeps pace, hands on her waist, his body syncing with hers, never crowding, never claiming. For a moment it’s just heat, her back pressed to his chest, his breath teasing her ear.
She tilts her head, sliding her hands up to the back of his neck, singing along as the lyrics vibrate between them. When she glances over her shoulder, amber eyes glitter in the strobe, daring him.
Normally, by now, Rob’s hands would be everywhere, and the night would end in the backseat of his car. But with her, nothing is normal. He hasn’t even kissed Sofia. Not that he hasn’t wanted to. He’s hard, and he knows she can feel it, but instead of taking, he reins himself in. He finds himself making sure her dress doesn’t ride too high. His hands are firm but respectful, wanting without pushing.
For the first time, Robert Hale is choosing restraint. And it’s driving him insane.
When the song shifts, she spins to face him. Sweat gleams along her collarbone, her lips parted, the air between them thrumming with charge. Then she laughs, catches his hand, and slips toward the door.
Outside, the night air is cooler, damp with city haze. She hugs herself against the chill, wobbling slightly on her heels. Rob steadies her with a hand at her elbow before she can shake him off, draping his jacket across her shoulders.
“My car’s this way,” he says.
The ride is quiet, the city lights smearing past in neon streaks. Rob sneaks glances, her head tipped against the window, lashes heavy. When she catches him, she smirks faintly, amused he can’t help himself.
At her apartment complex, she slips out of his jacket and hands it back, fingers brushing his.
“Wait.” His voice halts her before she opens the door. “Can I… get your number?”
She studies him, weighing. Her hand hovers on the strap of her bag before she sighs and holds out her palm. “Phone.”
He passes it over. She taps in her number and returns it with a warning lift of her brow. “Don’t make me regret this, Bobby.”
His mouth quirks. “Rob is fine.”
She tosses her hair, already turning away. She takes three steps before her ankle buckles against the uneven curb. She goes down hard, knees scraping concrete.
“Shit—” Rob’s out of the car in a heartbeat, crouching beside her. His hand hovers, steady. “You okay, pretty girl? Let’s get you up.”
Sofia steadies herself against his chest, blinking up at him. “I’m fine,” she mutters, though she doesn’t move away. “Don’t get all Prince Charming about it.”
His grin comes quick, crooked. “Didn’t say a word.”
When she stumbles again, he slides an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the entrance. She groans, glancing down at her snapped heel. “Cheap-ass shoes. Figures.”
She kicks them off with a huff.
“Wait, you can’t just walk barefoot out here,” he protests, eyeing the cracked concrete, cigarette butts, glass glinting in the gutter. “It’s—”
“I’ve got tights,” she shoots back, already striding forward, chin high. “And all my shots.”
He laughs under his breath, shaking his head as they climb the short flight of stairs. The building looms tired around them, peeling paint, the stairwell buzzing under a flickering light.
Rob feels it then, an overwhelming urge—no, a need—to pull her out of here. To take care of her. To give her something better.
“This is me,” Sofia says.
Her gaze lifts. Before she can think twice, she fists his shirt and yanks him down. Their mouths collide, hot and messy, her tongue sliding against his with fierce determination. He meets her fire, heat sparking, his hand gripping her hip.
He dares to lower it just an inch, fingers skimming closer to the curve of her ass. The sound that rips from her throat is a raw, breathless moan, and it nearly undoes him. They stay tangled there, kissing hard, lost to time, until the world feels narrowed to nothing but each other.
When she finally breaks away, her lips are swollen, her breath ragged. “You… wanna come inside?”
Temptation darkens his green eyes, the ache in his body demanding yes. He wants nothing more than to follow her in, to strip her out of that red dress and bury himself deep. But then he exhales, thumb brushing gently along her jaw, surprising himself with the restraint. “Next time. When you’re sober.”
Sofia blinks, stunned. No guy has ever turned her down before.
“Wow,” she whispers, a laugh spilling out, disbelieving. “Bobby’s got morals.”
“It’s Rob.” His grin is sharp, but his eyes still linger on her mouth.
She rolls her eyes as she opens her door. “Thanks for the ride, Bobby.”
Rob stays rooted to the spot, chest tight, lips still tingling from hers.
Inside, Sofia drops her purse and collapses face-first onto the couch. She’s out in seconds.
Rob drives home in silence, her voice still curling in his ears. He’s kissed more women than he can remember, but none of them ever left him standing in a dingy hallway, walking away before he wanted to.
By the time he pulls through the gates, the city noise is gone, replaced by the low purr of the engine on smooth asphalt. The long drive winds past manicured hedges, opening onto a sprawling estate. Three stories of glass and stone rise from the hill, lights glowing warm against the dark.
The guard at the gatehouse salutes as Rob passes. Upstairs, in the master suite, the staff has already set out a crystal decanter on the nightstand. He tosses his keys into a silver dish, shrugs out of his jacket, and sinks into a wide leather loveseat.
He pours a drink he doesn’t taste and closes his eyes.
Robert Hale, son of a man with too much money and too much time. He can have anything he wants. But he can’t remember the last time he wanted something, really wanted something, before Sofia.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he reaches for his phone. The glow of the screen cuts the dim as he scrolls straight to the S’s. Nothing. His chest tightens. Did she save it wrong? Did it not stick? For one wild second he almost considers driving back across the city, knocking on that peeling door just to ask. Or worse, what if she never meant to give it to him at all?
Then, something catches his eye, tucked neatly between names he barely remembers are two words:
Pretty Girl.
Rob exhales, dropping back into the leather seat as a laugh rumbles out of him. Yeah. He’s in trouble.
