The Price of His Obsession

“Rough night?”

I tried to laugh, but it came out as a dry, hacking cough. “You have no idea.”

The bartender didn’t bother looking up. He kept scrubbing a highball glass with a white rag, the steady shuck-shuck-shuck the only sound between us.

“Happens a lot,” he said flatly, without pity.

I scoffed and reached up to wipe my eyes. Black mascara smeared across my cheek and down toward my collarbone. Perfect. Just perfect.

“Not the usual kind of cheating,” I said, a manic little giggle bubbling up. “He did it with… my own talent agent.”

The cloth stopped. The bartender actually looked up, eyes scanning my ruined face.

“That’s a bitch.”

“‘That’s a bitch’?” I mocked, leaning in. “Is that your professional clinical opinion?”

“I’ve heard worse.”

“I highly doubt that.”

He shrugged. “Once had a bride catch her fiancé in bed with her own mother.”

I froze. “…You’re joking.”

“Happened right here in this lounge.”

I turned my head, taking in the gold-leaf ceilings and plush velvet chairs. Everything looked so curated, so elegant. “This city needs mass therapy,” I whispered.

“This city prefers cocktails.”

For a split second my mouth twitched. Then the almost-smile died. Today had been shit.

“I have nowhere to live.” I took a sip; the whiskey burned all the way down. “My agent fired me. My audition tomorrow?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Gone. She canceled it before I even left the apartment.”

The bartender leaned both hands on the mahogany. His expression softened a fraction. “Fuck. That’s more than a tough day.”

“I think they’ve been together for months.” The words tasted like poison. “I was too stupid to notice.”

“No,” he said calmly. “You just trusted the wrong person.”

“Same thing.”

Outside the high windows, rain slammed against the glass, turning the neon lights of downtown LA into a smeared painting. Hollywood always looked better from a distance.

My phone buzzed on the counter.

HARPER ❤️: I’m running late. VIP guest. Don’t leave! 20 mins!

I started to type Don’t worry about it, then deleted it. Changed it to: Hurry up. Harper was the only thing left that didn’t feel like a lie.

A bowl of pretzels slid into view. “On the house.”

“Too depressed to chew.”

“Usually that’s when you need to eat.”

I actually laughed—a real one. “You’re kind of wise.”

“I’m actually divorced.”

“…Fair enough.”

Another glass of whiskey appeared. I hadn’t ordered it.

“You know what the worst part is?”

“The cheating?”

I shook my head. “I actually trusted him.” My voice cracked. “I bought him a cake for our anniversary.”

The bartender winced. “Ouch.”

“The cake said…” A sob caught in my throat and I laughed through it. “‘Forever Starts Today.’”

“…That’s just cruel.”

“I smashed it right in his face.”

“Good.”

“Threw wine over his head too.”

“Even better.”

A thin smile touched my lips, then vanished. “I still love him,” I whispered. “I hate that.”

“It won’t last forever.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I’ve worked this bar for twenty-two years.” He shrugged. “Nobody stays heartbroken forever.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

I tried to stand. The room tilted hard. Gold and velvet started spinning.

“I have to go.”

“You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve said that four times.”

“I’m committed to the lie.”

My heel caught on the marble. I reached out to steady myself and knocked the glass instead. It shattered across the floor in a spray of crystal. As I tipped backward, a strong arm hooked around my waist and yanked me upright.

“Oh—”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

I looked down first. Italian leather shoes. Flawless charcoal trousers. A watch that probably cost more than my entire education.

Then I looked up.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark suit that fit with intimidating precision. White shirt open at the collar. Dark hair swept back, silver at the temples making him look more timeless than older.

I realized I was still clutching his jacket. I let go quickly. “I ruined your suit.”

He glanced at the whiskey stain on his lapel, then back at me. “Did you?”

His voice was low, controlled, faintly amused.

I frowned. “…What?”

“You seem more worried about the suit than yourself.”

The observation caught me off guard. Something in me cracked, and I started laughing—actually laughing.

He watched me without blinking.

“So…” I gestured vaguely. “Unless you’re secretly the King of Hollywood or whatever… I guess the night can’t get any worse.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. Not quite a smile. “You’ve had a difficult night.”

“I’ve officially run out of things to lose.”

I stepped closer, drawn in by the scent of cedar, expensive cologne, and something deeply masculine. I wrinkled my nose.

“…You smell…”

He waited.

“…Really sexy.” I blinked. “That sounded way smarter in my head.”

“That’s an original opening line.”

I covered my face. “Please pretend I didn’t say that.”

“No.” His gaze was steady, penetrating. “You’re heartbroken.”

Those two words hit harder than the whiskey. My smile trembled. “If I kiss a stranger…” I swallowed, looking up at him. “…will it make it hurt less?”

His expression didn’t change. “No.”

I nodded slowly. “Thought so.”

Then I reached for his lapels, rose onto my toes, and kissed him.

When he finally pulled away, he looked at me like he was memorizing my face.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” I gave him a sad, tired smile. “But tomorrow already hates me.”

A black umbrella appeared beside him as a driver approached.

“Sir,” the man said softly. “The car is ready.”

The ground slid out from under me again. “You’re passing out,” a low voice said near my ear.

Strong arms caught me before I could hit the floor, lifting me like I weighed nothing. The chauffeur held the door of a black car open.

“Just take us home.”

Home?

I wanted to ask whose.

Mine… or his?

The only answer was the dark.