I’ve been walking for hours, refusing to head back to our…his…apartment. I don’t think I can handle seeing his face without picturing the way he looked while he…okay, I can’t think about that.

Instead, I’m going into full survival mode. I knew watching all of those crime shows would come in handy. I’ve withdrawn the maximum daily amount of cash, so I’m not completely helpless, but most hotels still require a card down as assurance. Since Bradley and I share an account, he’d be able to find me, and I really don’t want to be found right now.

Not that he’d actually try. That’s probably giving him a little too much credit.

I would give anything to curl up in a ball under my covers while hugging a vat of ice cream and watching K-dramas until my brain melts.

Numb. I want to be numb to the pain tearing at my chest, to the knowledge that I’ve been a complete moron and let myself get into this position in the first place. After hours of sulking, I just want to forget about all of this for a single day. Then I can figure it out tomorrow.

The universe must hate me because a crack of thunder rattles overhead, and then rain sheets down, soaking me in seconds.

A door opens on my right, and the sound of music floats out. It’s a lounge located on the first floor of a brand-new high-end hotel, the kind with marble floors and ten-dollar bottles of water.

I bolt toward the entrance, fully aware that this is the type of place with a dress code, and I already look like a drowned rat. There’s a good chance I’m seconds away from embarrassing myself for the second time tonight.

The bouncer’s wearing a suit and tie, but there’s something about it that’s a little less ballroom and a little more gangster. He steps back, letting me under the protection of the awning. His eyes drag down my body in one long, clinical sweep, and my stomach drops. My arms fold across my middle, like I can hide in plain sight.

His brows pinch, mouth flat. I shift back, bracing for him to shake his head and tell me to get lost.

Then his gaze lands on my face. Really lands. His expression eases, lines smoothing. My hair’s falling out of the bun I worked so hard on, and my eyes swollen. A wreck.

I start to turn away, a flush rising to my ears, but the door swings open. He tips his head toward the entrance.

I freeze. “Are…are you sure?”

His voice is flat but soft. “I’m about to be way less sure if you don’t move. You look like you need a drink. It’s late, and you shouldn’t be out there. Hell, I should be stuffing you in a cab and sending you anywhere else.”

I flinch at that because I have nowhere to go.

“Inside,” he says. “Before I change my mind.”

I slip by, but his arm shoots out, solid as a bar across my path.

“Don’t talk to anyone.”

The warning lands heavy. His chin flicks toward the lounge, and my stomach knots. Whatever’s waiting in there, I probably shouldn’t be walking straight into it.

I nod, letting him know I heard him, and force my mouth to curve upward. “I owe you one.”

“You remind me of my sister.”

It’s the only excuse he gives me, and I don’t wait for him to elaborate.

Shadows spill across leather chairs and polished wood. It feels expensive, exclusive. Businessmen sit back in tailored suits, cigars smoldering between their fingers, stunning women whispering in their ears.

It’s immediately obvious.

I don’t belong here.

I must stand there too long because the bartender’s waving me over.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

That’s putting it lightly. He’s on the younger side, a softness to his face that wasn’t present with the bouncer, but he’s holding himself in a way that says he belongs.

He takes pity on me and gestures to one of the barstools at the counter, a warmth taking over his face. “What can I get you?”

I hesitate for a moment, but the idea of turning around and fleeing is just one embarrassing moment too many for me to handle. So instead, I take my place, tucking my arms on my lap, fingers twisting together. I’m not much of a drinker, and there’s an awkward pause as I desperately search through the only ones I know, coming up short.

“How about this? If you trust me, I’ll make something just for you. All I need to know is if you like sweet or not.”

“Sweet, please.”

“I got you.” He turns his back to me, pulling bottles from the shelves, the way the bottles seem to dance in his hands showing just how talented he is. I guess that’s a base requirement for working here.

The glass he places in front of me is tall, filled with a lavender bubbly liquid. I take a tentative sip and hum as the crisp bubbles mixed with a subtly sweet, fruity taste fill my mouth.

“Good, right?” He winks at me

“Really good.” I can’t help myself from taking a deeper drink, earning me one raised eyebrow. Without a hint of the taste of alcohol, I can already tell it has the potential to get me into trouble. But…isn’t that why I’m here?

“I’ll get you another…but don’t go too hard.”

This guy must be a few years younger than me but still manages to treat me like a kid. I’m half-impressed, half-despondent that I clearly appear hopeless.

“I promise I’ll go slower with the next one.”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye before heading down the line to the next customer. Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either.

Without his distraction, my thoughts are pulled back to Bradley. I do my best to resist pulling my hair and dropping my face to the smooth surface—barely though. I really messed up this time. I’d given absolutely everything to him without noticing he didn’t give anything back. Sure, there were flowers and fancy words, but when it came down to it, I was the one who sacrificed everything. It’s always been about him. What he wants. What’s best for his career. What I can do to help support him.

What did that get me? Perched at a bar, drowning myself in a bubbly drink, doing my best to pretend my life didn’t just implode.

I down my second glass, the bartender sliding me a third without me having to ask. He seems to read my mood and doesn’t stop to chat.

I can’t say the same for the man who takes up the stool directly to my right. A quick glance tells me there are at least five others available.

He leans in too close, breath sour. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

Hell, even his voice makes my skin crawl, and I’m halfway out of my seat before he’s clamping a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.

I try to catch the bartender’s attention, but he’s wrapped up serving another customer, leaving me with this lowlife.

“I’m just stopping in. Actually, I should go.” I try peeling his hand off, but it just makes him grip harder.

“Come on, don’t be like that. We all know why someone like you would come somewhere like this.” His lips curve in a mockery of a smile. “I’ve got the bank account you’re looking for.”

My stomach churns. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

“Ahh, playing hard to get. You don’t have to play those games with me. I’m already interested enough that we can skip all that bullshit.”

“No, really…I’m…” I don’t get the words out, his grip turning painful.

“I said I don’t want to play games.” Pain radiates through my arm as he tugs me close enough that the stench of his breath hits me in the face.

I freeze. My body folds in on itself, instinct locking me in place while every nerve screams at me to shove him off.

Then…something shifts.

A weight settles at my back, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat.

“She’s with me.” The voice is deep, calm, controlled. An arm rests on the counter beside me, caging me in. I can’t take my eyes away from the way thick veins travel up his forearm, disappearing into the white of his rolled-up sleeve. The watch circling his wrist looks like it would slide all the way up my forearm.

Warmth fills my stomach, a tingling sensation between my shoulders from where he’s almost touching me. I force myself to resist the urge to close the distance. Now is not the time, and this is not the man.

Without even seeing him, he’s giving off apex predator vibes, where the asshole in front of me, who’s now officially shaking, is giving off scavenger.

Something about him at my back has me straightening my posture and pulling back my shoulders. His hum of approval has the hair rising on my neck and my chin lifting higher, until I’m staring at the other man…if you can call him that.

“I…shit…I didn’t know.” My wannabe assaulter stumbles through his words. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know.”

“You are apologizing to the wrong person.”

His nose scrunches up like he’s trying to decode some kind of riddle. Of course it doesn’t cross his mind that he should say sorry to me.

Hard muscles press firmly into my back, heat seeping through my clothes and branding my skin as the man behind me crowds in. I don’t miss the way his chin clears the top of my head, making him an easy six foot four.

Still shaking, the weasel’s attention clicks to me, as if he suddenly remembered I’m there. “I’m…”

Oh, come on, is it really that hard?

A low rumble comes from behind me, causing the other man to stumble back.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm…I mistook the situation…I…” His head bows low, eyes no longer meeting mine. “Please forgive my mistake.”

Holy shit. A thrill sparks through me at just how much power the stranger at my back holds to have someone who’s clearly high in society cowering like a wounded animal. I should really be scared, but the way he’s using that power to back me up—to protect me—has a rush of my own strength flooding through me, a confidence I’d been lacking minutes before filling my chest with each breath of the sweet, smoky scent of cigars.

“What if I don’t want to forgive you?” It’s like a completely different person is speaking, one that I don’t recognize, but I like. One that I wish I could be.

The man droops, practically folding inward as he pleads. “I won’t do it again. I’ll never come here again. Just please. Please let me go.”

“What do you think?” A dark rumble, breath brushing my ear. “Should we let him go?”

Power surges through me like a shot of adrenaline. “I guess we wouldn’t want him smelling up the place.”

A deep chuckle vibrates against my spine. “You heard her. Get out.”

The man scurries away without looking back.

There’s a long pause, tension building, but the presence behind me doesn’t move, waiting. I turn, and my breath catches.

Holy. Freaking. Shit.

Piercing gray irises, rimmed in black. Sharp jaw. Dark hair swept back.

My thighs press together as heat swirls low in my stomach, and I swallow, my mouth dry, a thirst taking over my thoughts.

The way his lips tip up in a smirk, tongue running along his top teeth, tells me he knows exactly what effect he’s having on me.

“Um…thank you,” I squeak out.

His gaze burns into mine, and my heart races as he focuses all of his attention on me, like I’m the only thing that matters in this room.

“He’s lucky I let him walk away.” A pause. Quiet, final. “It won’t happen again.”

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