1
Savannah
I didn’t even consider the consequences before I let the vodka cranberry fly. My arm moved on instinct, a sharp, singular motion that felt like the only logical conclusion to a night that had already gone off the rails. In my defense, acting without a filter had always been my specialty—or perhaps my most persistent flaw. I wasn’t exactly known for my patience, and I certainly didn't have any left for the man standing in front of me.
For the last ten minutes, some trust-fund idiot with a custom-tailored suit and a personality like wet cardboard had been droning on about why women were too emotional for executive leadership roles. He’d delivered this little manifesto while his eyes roamed over my chest with the subtlety of a bulldozer. My blood was boiling, the heat rising up my neck until I felt like a ticking bomb.
So, I did the only thing that felt right. I gave him a tight, razor-sharp smile, lifted my glass, and whipped the contents directly at his face.
Unfortunately, the universe has a wicked sense of humor. The idiot ducked, dancing backward with surprising agility, and my drink found a much more formidable target. The red liquid splashed across the front of a crisp, white dress shirt belonging to the man standing right behind him.
The ballroom, which had been buzzing with the low, monotonous drone of industry gossip and networking platitudes, abruptly fell silent. I froze, my empty glass still hovering in the air like a piece of incriminating evidence.
The man looked down, his expression unreadable as he watched the dark, jagged stain bloom across the pristine fabric of his shirt. It was expensive silk—probably worth more than my entire apartment’s furniture. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his gaze to meet mine.
Kai Rhodes.
The name hit me harder than the realization of what I’d just done. He was the golden boy of the Manhattan elite—billionaire, professional heartbreaker, and, if the tabloids were to be believed, completely insufferable. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine, unblinking.
One second stretched into two. Then, the corner of his mouth ticked upward. It wasn't a friendly expression. It was slow, dangerous, and entirely too magnetic for a man who had every reason to be furious.
“Well,” he drawled, his voice a low, smooth vibration that cut through the silence of the room. “That’s one hell of a way to introduce yourself.”
Heat surged into my cheeks, though it wasn't the heat of embarrassment—it was pure, unadulterated annoyance. I didn't care who he was; I just wanted to be anywhere else but here. “That,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking in my chest, “wasn't for you.”
His gaze dropped to his ruined shirt, then flicked back to my face. “Obviously.”
I glanced past him, but the original target had already vanished into the throng of bodies, likely looking for a place to hide. The coward. I let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “Okay, fine. That one was my fault.”
A single dark eyebrow arched toward his hairline. “I know.”
I wanted to hit him again. A part of me—the part that was currently screaming with adrenaline—wondered if I could find a heavy mahogany chair to finish the job. Instead, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Let me help clean it up.”
His smile deepened, reaching his eyes now, and it somehow made me feel even more uneasy than his silence had. “Oh?”
“Don’t sound so excited,” I snapped.
“I’m trying not to,” he replied, though the glint in his eyes suggested he was failing miserably.
Liar. I rolled my eyes, desperate to move past this disaster. “There has to be a bathroom around here somewhere.”
Kai didn't even look around; he seemed to already know exactly where he was going. He just held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary before nodding toward the hallway. “Come on.”
Five minutes later, we were tucked away inside a private lounge bathroom that was, predictably, absurdly luxurious. It was all polished marble, gold fixtures, and lighting that probably cost more than my first car. It was the kind of place people hid when they wanted to avoid the real world.
Kai turned toward the mirror and, without a second’s hesitation, unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it off in one fluid motion, leaving him standing there in nothing but his undershirt and tailored slacks.
My brain short-circuited. I had grabbed a towel, intending to dab at the mess, but the movement of my hand halted mid-air. The man looked like he had been sculpted out of expensive, high-stakes decisions. His shoulders were broad, his chest was defined, and there were dark, intricate tattoos disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. The sheer amount of muscle on display was unnecessary, bordering on showy. It felt completely excessive.
My eyes widened, tracking the lines of his frame before I could stop them.
Kai caught me staring. His mouth twitched into that same infuriatingly amused smirk. “See something you like?”
Mortifying. It was absolutely mortifying. I forced my gaze upward, locking onto his eyes, but even his stupidly handsome face didn't help my case. “You took your shirt off,” I said, my voice tighter than I’d intended.
“Amazing observation skills you have there.”
“I was going to dab at the stain,” I muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the shirt he’d discarded.
“The stain is gone,” he said.
I looked down at his chest, then realized he was still wearing his undershirt, which was now soaked through with red cranberry juice. I looked back at him, feeling the heat rise even higher. “Interesting.”
“You’re impossible,” I said, my frustration peaking.
His grin widened, turning lazy and confident. “And yet, you’re still staring.”
I nearly threw the damp towel at his head. I almost did it. But instead, I took a step forward, closing the gap between us, and pressed the wet towel against his chest. I did it harder than I needed to, a small, petty act of revenge.
Kai didn't even flinch. He didn't move an inch. The bastard.
My fingers brushed against his warm, damp skin, and my pulse betrayed me, jumping into a frantic rhythm that I couldn't hide. Kai noticed. Of course he did. Men like him were wired to pick up on every tremor, every shift in a woman’s breathing. His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unrelenting, and the atmosphere in the small, marble room shifted.
It wasn't a loud change, but it was absolute. It was the sudden, sharp awareness of how close we were standing, the smell of his expensive cologne mixing with the tart scent of the spilled drink. It was the feeling of being pulled into an orbit that I wasn't prepared to handle. It was dangerous.
I took a sharp step back, putting distance between us immediately. His eyes sparkled with a challenge.
“Leaving already?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
I pointed a finger at him, my hand shaking just a fraction. “Whatever this is, stop.”
“What is what?”
“The flirting.”
“I’m not flirting,” he said, his voice dropping into a register that made my stomach flip.
“You absolutely are.”
Kai’s grin turned into something slow and predatory. “Maybe.”
I hated that my stomach betrayed me with a jolt of electricity. I hated even more that he looked like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Judging by that smug, impossibly arrogant look on his face, he knew exactly how much he had under his skin.
