It Was Never Just One Night

CHAPTER 3

Vincent’s POV

I leaned back in my chair and let Derek finish his point about the Marin acquisition.

He had strong opinions about the timeline and had been sharing them for the last twenty minutes. Across from him, James nodded in the measured way he nodded at everything, which meant he was either in full agreement or completely checked out.

With James, it was always one or the other.

This dinner had not been planned. Derek had texted around five saying he needed to decompress, the week had been brutal, and did I want to grab something?

I'd said yes because I felt the same. Running a billion-dollar conglomerate wasn’t child’s play.

So here we were. Good food, decent company, and a conversation I was about seventy percent present for.

My phone lit up on the table.

Bianca.

I looked at the name for one second, then turned the phone face-down.

Derek kept talking. I took a sip of my Macallan scotch.

Bianca and I had been casual for a few months.

But the whole thing had simply run its course the way these things do. We hadn’t hooked up in over a month, and I hadn't found the right moment to officially end it.

I would, though. Soon.

I set the glass down and glanced toward the bar.

I didn't know what made me look…

Derek was mid-sentence, and there was nothing specific to draw my attention in that direction.

But I looked, and my eyes landed on her.

Holy s**t, I swear I stopped breathing.

I’ve been around the world, seen a lot of beautiful women, and had my fair share of them…

But she was mesmerizing.

Red fiery hair, pulled back in a loose bun with soft curls framing her face. Pale skin. Even from here I could see the freckles dusted across her high cheekbones.

Her crossed legs seemed to go on forever, ending in a pair of elegant heels, but it was her face that captivated me the most.

She was the kind of beautiful that made your jaw drop.

"Vincent!”

I turned back. Derek was looking at me.

"The Marin timeline," he said. "You think Q3 is realistic?"

"Q3 is optimistic," I said. "Budget for Q4, plan for Q3, and don't tell the board either number until you're certain."

Derek pointed at James. "See, that's what I said."

James smiled in his measured way.

Derek droned on, and I let my attention drift back to the bar.

She was sitting alone at the bar, a few feet away, with one hand wrapped around her empty glass, the other flat on the counter.

The bartender poured her a second drink without her asking, which meant she'd been here a while, or she just had the aura that made people want to take care of her. Both were possible.

I watched her take a sip and lick her pillowy pink lips right after.

That act alone made my d**k twitch in my pants.

She wasn't looking around. A group of people two stools down were laughing loudly at something, and she didn't even glance at them. The room had no hold on her.

Then she looked up.

I didn't know why I didn't look away. I should have.

I was sitting with two colleagues at a dinner table, and she was a stranger at a bar, and the polite thing was to drop my eyes and focus on my table.

But I didn't.

She held my gaze for a moment, and I offered her a slow, sexy smile.

She gave a shy smile back, then looked away.

I felt that smile straight in my d**k again.

Derek said something. I responded. I have no memory of what either of us said.

"Gentlemen." I set my napkin on the table and pushed back my chair.

"I think I'm going to call it here."

Derek looked up. "Already?"

"Long week." I reached for my wallet. "I'll cover the bill. You two stay and enjoy the Macallan."

I left cash on the table, said my goodbyes, and walked toward the bar.

I didn't do this…

Approaching women in bars. Not because of any rule I'd made for myself, but because nothing about it had ever appealed to me.

But walking up to her felt right.

Up close, she was even more beautiful than I'd seen from across the room. The freckles weren't just on her cheekbones; they crossed the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were blue-green, more green than blue, and sparkling under the bar light.

I took the empty stool beside her and caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled lovely, like jasmine and oranges.

"You look like you're having a very serious conversation with that glass," I said.

She looked at me. One beat. Two.

Then, "The glass is losing.”

Fuck.

Even her voice was melodic.

I chuckled. Her brows rose, telling me she wasn’t expecting that.

"Can I sit?"

"You already are."

"Fair point."

The bartender appeared, and I ordered. She c****d her head to the side and turned her glass slowly on the counter.

"You were staring," she said.

"I was."

"From the other side of the room."

"Also true."

My eyes flicked to her mouth as her teeth tugged at her lower lip, but it didn’t turn into a full smile.

“Most men would deny that."

"Denying it would've been weird given that you clearly saw me,” I grinned.

The bartender slid my drink across the marble counter, and when I reached for it, my hand grazed hers. It sent a sharp jolt of heat straight to my d**k.

I knew she felt that heat too because goosebumps rose along her forearm.

We stared at each other as I took a sip of my drink and set it on the counter.

"So, Red," I said, "what's a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a cocktail lounge on a Friday night?"

She smirked as she tucked a lock of that fiery red hair framing her face behind her ear.

"I actually had celebratory dinner here with my best friend. She just left."

"What were you celebrating?"

"Oh, she just got engaged,” she beamed.

I glanced down at her left hand wrapped around her glass. Bare fingers.

"No ring on your hand, though." I looked back up at her. "So you're not taken," I added.

She tilted her head slightly. "That’s right."

Good.

Her eyes dropped briefly to my hand on the counter, then came back up. “You?”

“Single,” I said.

"Congratulations to your best friend," I added. "How's she feeling? Excited, terrified, or both?"

The corner of her mouth curved. "Mostly excited. She's been in love with him for years, so…" She shrugged one shoulder. "It was only a matter of time."

"And you? You cried?"

She blinked those sparkling eyes. "What?"

"At dinner. When she told you, did you cry?" I teased.

She stared at me for a second, then burst out laughing.

The sound of it was like music to my ears. I wanted to make her laugh again and again.

"I did not cry!" she replied, fixing me with a mock glare.

"You absolutely cried."

"I didn't—" She pressed her lips together, fighting it. "Ok, maybe my eyes watered slightly."

"Mhm."

"It's not the same thing," she gasped.

"Sure, Red," I hummed.

She shook her head, with a smile on her face, and looked down at her glass.

I watched her for a moment.

She had no idea what that smile did to me.

"Stay," I said.

She gazed at me as her lashes fluttered. "You were about to leave." I nodded at her purse, which had shifted to her lap somewhere in the last few minutes. "Stay for one more drink."

She hesitated…

And in that pause—she knew it, I knew it—one more drink wasn't really about the drink at all.