Chapter 1
“All I’m saying is your sex life is basically dead.” she said.
And I resisted the urge to launch my water across the table at her.
Instead, I stared into the pit of my water glass, drinking slowly, because screaming would have drawn more attention.
Here we go again. Another night, another round of friendly interrogation. The only reason I’d bothered to show up tonight to this bar was because Rashelle still had my favorite dress, and I wasn’t leaving this bar without a promise to return it.
The moment I got it back, I was blocking her on everything. No texts, no calls, not even a smoke signal.
Now my friends had me flanked like vultures, their voices loud even through the bass-heavy music.
“Seriously, when was the last time you went on a real date? Do you even remember what kissing feels like?” one of them asked.
“You’re just too picky,” another chimed in, swirling her drink. “If you don’t loosen up, you’re going to end up all alone with cats and borrowing your mom’s Netflix account.”
Heat crept up my cheeks. I slouched lower in my seat, silently begging the faux leather to swallow me whole. Their laughter rose above the music, pounding straight through my will to live.
“Maybe we should just pick someone for you,” another said, not-so-subtly pointing her drink toward a guy hunched over the bar like he hadn’t seen sunlight, or a clean shirt, in a decade.
My jaw clenched. I wrapped my fingers tighter around my glass. The bar was too loud, too crowded, the kind of place where perfume mingled with desperation, and everyone danced like no one was watching, except everyone absolutely was.
Then I felt it, that invisible tug.
My gaze swept the crowd. And there he was.
To my right, standing like he owned the air around him. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Brown hair just slightly tousled, as if it had been styled and then ruined by something sinful. Dark blue suit. Tie undone just enough to whisper danger.
And his gaze locked onto mine, like it had been waiting there all night.
We stared.
Time didn’t slow. It stopped.
Heat curled through my toes, up my spine.
I looked away first, my heart tripping over itself like it hadn’t done in far too long.
“You know,” Kendrie was saying, blissfully oblivious, “my sister’s best friend’s brother knows this matchmaker. Swear to God, the woman’s like a love witch. She matched my cousin with his fiancée. Sure, they fight all the time, but they look amazing on social media.”
“Wait—your cousin’s taken?” Glory groaned. “Ugh. I totally had a thing for him.”
I took another slow sip, the ice brushing my lips—and caught the movement from the corner of my eye.
Him.
The man in the suit.
He was standing right beside us now, close enough that I could feel the change in the air, like a storm rolling in. My heartbeat immediately shifted into turbo and I could feel that flush creep up my cheeks.
“I hate to ruin your fun,” he said.
His gaze never left mine as he stepped into our circle like it was exactly where he belonged. “But I’m going to have to borrow her.”
His smile was smooth. Polite. Just enough charm to soften the sheer audacity of it. “I can’t let you keep her all to yourselves,” he added. “I have a feeling she’ll enjoy my company a bit more.”
I blinked, stunned—by the nerve, the confidence, the way my pulse was already betraying me.
Rashelle, Kendrie, and Gloria went dead quiet, exchanging looks like they couldn’t decide whether to protest or swoon. Probably the first time in their lives they’d ever been struck speechless.
Then he turned to me, his voice lowering into something private—something meant only for us. “Don’t look so shocked,” he said. “You didn’t think I’d let you stay here and suffer, did you?” He held out his hand. “Come on. You look like you could use a break.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, light and surprised, like he’d knocked the breath from my lungs and left me oddly grateful.
“You’re not wrong,” I murmured, already rising to my feet, as if my body had decided before my brain could catch up. And I took his hand without hesitation.
As we slipped away from the table and the too-loud gossip already starting behind me, I drew in air like I was surfacing from underwater.
The noise dulled. My shoulders eased.
And then I noticed his hand still wrapped around mine—steady, sure—with one tiny, unsettling detail. A pale, untanned strip of skin circled his ring finger. For the briefest second, I wondered who—or what—he had left behind.
“Thank you for getting me out of that,” I said. “Whoever you are, I definitely owe you one.”
“You looked like you needed saving.” His voice was low, the kind that curled around your spine and made coherent thought optional.
We stopped near the back of the bar, tucked far enough into the shadows that the noise faded a bit. His fingers brushed my wrist as he let go—slowly, deliberately—like he wasn’t quite ready to hand me back to the world.
“They were relentless,” I said. “I was five minutes away from being set up with a guy who probably collected naked dolly figurines and thought showering was optional.”
“Tragic. I’m glad I came.” he said.
“So do you always swoop in to rescue damsels in distress,” I said, “or just the ones who look particularly fed up with bad stories?”
“Just the ones who intrigue me.”
There it was—that spark. Not just flirting. Something sharper underneath it.
“Well, mystery man,” I said, keeping my tone light even as my pulse betrayed me, “are you going to tell me your name, or is this part of the fantasy?”
He stepped closer, close enough that I caught the faint trace of his cologne—dark, clean, unmistakably him.
“Do you want to know my name,” he asked, voice low, “or do you want to keep pretending I’m a fantasy?”
My heart tripped in my chest, a sudden, dangerous rhythm. I felt it everywhere—in my skin, my throat, the way I leaned in as if gravity itself had shifted.
“Maybe I want both.”
“Greedy, aren’t you?”
“And you’re pretty confident,” I said, “for a man who’s still technically nameless.”
He lifted a hand, just enough to brush a knuckle along mine. Light. Deliberate. Like he was testing how easily I might come undone.
“I like the way you look at me when you don’t know what to call me yet,” he said. “Like I might be trouble. Like you might like it.”
God help me—he wasn’t wrong.
“And if I do?” I said. “If I like a little trouble?”
His eyes sparked. “Then let me show you something cool first.”
There was a beat of hesitation. Just one. Then I smiled. “Absolutely. Show me.”
He smirked, like he’d already predicted my answer, grabbed my hand back and turned, leading me toward a shadowed door at the back of the room. The sign read PRIVATE. DO NOT ENTER.
Naturally.
He glanced around—casual, but alert—then motioned me forward.
“Hey,” I said, half-laughing, “are we even allowed back there?”
“Maybe. I’m sure they won’t mind. And the bigwig who usually uses this space?” He shrugged. “Not here tonight. So… no trouble.”
He opened the door, and I slipped through, curiosity buzzing bright and wild in my chest.
The noise behind us vanished, a quietness dropped down, a great contrast to the noise just outside, like someone had hit mute.
Inside was an entirely different world. A stunning, upscale dining room stretched out before me—polished marble floors, sleek leather chairs, black linen tablecloths glowing beneath delicate chandeliers. The kind of place where they would pour thousand-dollar wine, you know?.
“Wow,” I said. “This room is even bigger than the other one.”
I stepped farther in, my heels echoing softly, the hush of the space wrapping around me like velvet. Everything was perfect. Impossibly so. As if we’d slipped into a secret meant to stay hidden.
I turned slowly in the center of the room, my skirt flaring as I tipped my head back to admire the ceiling. “It’s gorgeous,” I murmured. “And it smells like… expensive leather.”
He watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with lazy ease, like the room itself didn’t interest him nearly as much as my reaction to it did.
“I feel like...” I said, my voice echoing faintly. “Like I should be making a dramatic speech or sipping something wildly overpriced from a crystal glass.”
“You wear the illusion well,” he said.
I grinned, still turning in slow circles, caught up in the absurdity of all that luxury.
“You know,” I said, “I bet I could get from here to the other side without touching the floor.”
That got his attention. He straightened, one brow lifting. “Oh really?”
“Absolutely.” I kicked off my heels and pointed to the nearest chair. “Look at all these chairs and tables. It’s basically a jungle gym in disguise.”
He laughed. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
I stepped onto the first chair, wobbled, then caught my balance with a small, triumphant grin. From there, I climbed onto the edge of the table, my bare feet making a soft tap against the polished wood.
“You’re going to get us kicked out,” he said, voice low. He didn’t stop me. Just stood there watching, a grin tugging at his mouth like he was enjoying the view far too much.
“Pretty sure you were the one who said this room was empty.” I peeked down at him. “Unless you’re scared to try it yourself?”
His eyes narrowed, playful. “You think I’m scared?”
“You’re all talk,” I said—then leapt to the next table with a laugh. “By the way, I’m already winning.”
He rolled his eyes but started unbuttoning his suit jacket, revealing muscle beneath crisp fabric—far more than strictly necessary. A distracting amount, really.
“Fine,” he said. “But if you fall, I’m not catching you again.”
“Don’t worry,” I called back. “You’d miss anyway.”
He smirked, then shrugged off the jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. His tie followed, silk sliding loose through his fingers as he climbed onto the chair I’d just vacated.
“You do realize I have longer legs,” he said, balancing with infuriating ease. “I’ll catch up in no time.”
“Not if I’m faster.” I darted to another table, my laughter echoing through the cavernous room.
What started as a silly bet dissolved into full-on chaos. We leapt from chair to chair, table to table, laughter fueling us, balance hanging with every jump. He was surprisingly agile for someone in tailored slacks and a dress shirt—though that didn’t stop me from calling out every slightly awkward landing.
“Careful, Mr. Acrobat!” I called, doubling over with laughter after he nearly slipped off a chair. “You’re going to tear a hamstring.”
“I’m fine,” he said, waving a hand with theatrical confidence, though the sheepish grin gave him away. “At least I didn’t almost faceplant on flat ground back there.”
“I did not almost faceplant,” I said. “I caught myself.”
“Beginner’s luck!” He caught up to me in two long strides, his chest rising with laughter as he stopped just a little too close. Close enough that I felt the warmth of him, the tension between us still buzzing, different now, brighter. Electric.
By the time we reached the far side of the room, we were both out of breath, cheeks flushed from exertion and laughter. I dropped into a chair with a dramatic sigh.
“Okay,” I said. “That was… way more fun than it should’ve been.”
He slid into the seat across from me, leaning back like he owned the place. “Not bad for a little hideaway, huh?”
I smirked, nudging his foot under the table. “Not bad at all.”
The energy shifted. The wild laughter faded into something quieter, heavier. The silence between us wasn’t awkward—it was charged. Comfortable.
I studied him for a beat, the way his grin softened, the way his gaze lingered on me just a little too long.
