Tempting my brother’s best friend

LIA If I had known he’d break my heart like this,I never would’ve said yes to marrying him a month ago. So here I was, in a bar in downtown Manhattan. The music thumped, glasses clinked, bodies grinded together in reckless abandon. People were here for fun, for hookups, to lose themselves in overpriced shots. But not me. I was here to forget, to silence the screaming in my chest with alcohol I didn’t even like. “Another,” I said weakly, waving at the bartender. He hesitated but poured me another round of tequila anyway. I downed it, wincing as it burned its way down my throat. My eyes watered, but I didn’t flinch. I leaned against the bar, head hanging low, and the memories clawed their way back, refusing to let me breathe. Caleb. My scumbag fiancé. Well… ex-fiancé. Tonight was supposed to be special. It was his birthday. I’d planned the perfect surprise: I was going to give him my V-card. We hadn’t slept together, not once in three years. Not because he hadn’t wanted to. God knows he’d hinted enough times. But I’d never felt ready—until tonight. I’d worn burgundy lace beneath my trench coat, stopped by his favorite bakery for chocolate croissants, and cake, even studied porn just to know what to do. But when I arrived at his apartment, the front door was ajar. His shoes, normally lined neatly by the entrance, were tossed aside. And next to his shoes were a pair of black Louboutins that weren’t mine. My heart screamed at me to leave. I didn’t listen. I walked forward. Closer to the bedroom door, I heard his voice. “Yes! You’re good on your knees, baby. f**k! You're so hot. So much better than my frigid fiancé.” The words shattered me. I shoved the door open, and there they were. Naked. His redhead assistant scrambling for the sheets, Caleb tripping into his briefs. I stared in surprise, shock and horror at the scene that was playing out in front of me. He said his job didn’t give him enough time for us to see each other that often, but here he was… f*****g his assistant? I remember him saying, “Lia, what are you doing here?” as he struggled for his clothes. “Caleb you disgusting piece of s**t!” I yelled, my voice loud with rage. “Is this what you call working overtime?” “Babe, It’s not what you think, okay? I was just relieving stress.” He tried to give a useless narcissistic attempt at explaining. “Relieving stress by f*****g your assistant?” My voice cracked with rage. And then he said it—words that still burned through me. “Lia, this is all your fault” he said to me. “You were too prude to give me anything, we’ve been together for three years and never have we had s*x, what did you expect?” Tears stung, but I didn’t let them fall. “You jerk!, we’re over!” I said, slamming the cake I had gotten him into his face. His expression darkened and he grabbed me. His grip on me was harsh, yanking until my trench coat slipped, revealing my lingerie. Sally, his red head assistant sneered. “Where’d you get that? Your grandmother’s closet?” Caleb’s eyes raked over me with disdain. “Take a good look at her, and look at yourself. You think granny lace would automatically make you desireable? If not for your father, no sane man would ever want you.” His words carved into my chest like glass. I forced my eyes open back at the bar, motioning for another drink. The bartender didn’t move. Confused and probably drunk out of my mind, I followed his gaze only to find a man standing behind me. I froze. Adrian Volkov. My brother’s best friend and my childhood crush. He was towering, broad-shouldered, with gunmetal grey eyes. Cold and most importantly off limits. “Adrian!” I flung my arms out in drunken recognition. His gaze darkened. “For f**k’s sake, Lia, how much have you had to drink?” He sounded the same as always—controlled, cold and majestic. “I’m fine,” I slurred, raising my shot glass. “See? Totally fine.” He paid the bartender without a word. “You’re done. Let’s go.” “No!” I protested, louder than necessary. Heads turned. “I don’t want to go. I want to drink until I forget Caleb’s stupid face.” His jaw ticked at the name, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence swallowing mine. “You can’t boss me around,” I snapped, poking his chest. “You’re not my brother, Adrian.” His gaze flicked briefly to where my coat gaped open, revealing a flash of burgundy lace. His jaw tightened, eyes hardening. “Lia.” His voice was low, dangerous. “You need to leave before you do something you regret.” “I already regret everything,” I whispered. He leaned down, his breath brushing my ear. “Then don’t give the whole bar a f*****g show. Come with me.” Goosebumps exploded across my skin. I hated it. I hated how my body betrayed me. “I don’t need saving,” I argued. “Too bad.” His hand slid around my wrist—firm, unyielding—and pulled me off the barstool. The cool night air slapped me awake. I stumbled against him, cheek brushing his chest. His hand steadied my waist, holding me close. Without another word, he guided me into a sleek black Maybach parked at the curb. The leather seats smelled of power and money, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the bar. Sometimes, I forgot that the man was a freaking billionaire. The door shut. Silence wrapped around us. Then Adrian finally snapped. “What the hell were you thinking, Lia? Drinking yourself stupid alone in a place like that? You could’ve gotten hurt. Do you even care about your safety?” His voice was sharp, each word clipped. I blinked at him, drunk but stubborn. “I was fine. You worry too much.” “Fine?” His hands tightened on the wheel. “You call making a spectacle in front of half the city fine?” I leaned back lazily, eyes half-lidded, lips tugging into a smile I knew would annoy him. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” His nostrils flared. “This isn’t a joke, Lia.” I tilted my head, studying him through the blur of alcohol. God, he was too handsome, too controlled. The exact opposite of Caleb’s pathetic chaos. “You know what I want right now?” I murmured, voice low and teasing. His eyes flicked to me, warning sharp in his gaze. I leaned closer, so close my shoulder brushed his. My lips curved into a reckless smile. “For you to f**k me,” I whispered, every word dripping with drunken defiance, “until the last thing I remember is Caleb’s stupid face.” The air thickened instantly. Ashton’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. His eyes darkened. For a long, dangerous beat, he didn’t move. He just stared into me, like he was peeling away every layer I thought I’d hidden. Then the edge of his mouth tugged upward, just slightly. Amusement flickered against the fury. “Careful, Lia,” he said softly, his voice like velvet over steel. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”