The CEO’s one night stand

Chapter three : A goddess at midnight

Neither of them looked away.

Miles’s voice cut through, loud and laughing as he steered Alex forward.

“There he is. Everyone, this is Alex—try not to scare him off in the first five minutes.”

Before Alex could respond, Miles’s hand closed firmly around his arm and tugged him toward the cluster of people near the birthday girl.

The moment fractured. Alex’s gaze was forced away from the woman in the corner, though the image of her—quiet, composed, eyes a little too bright—stayed burned behind his lids as he was pulled into the circle of laughter and raised glasses.

“Leila, look who finally left his tower,” Miles announced, already signaling the bartender for another round. “I told you I’d get him here.”

Alex offered the expected half-smile, the polite nod, the low greeting that gave nothing away. He let Miles’s easy energy fill the space around him, accepted the drink placed in his hand, and answered a couple of light questions without really hearing them.

All the while, some restless part of him remained aware of the corner he had just been dragged from.

The night dragged on in a series of loud music and more alcohol. Alex stayed on the edge of it, letting Miles do most of the talking while his gaze kept drifting, almost against his will, toward the quieter side of the room.

Nyla had finally begun to loosen. Somewhere between the second and third drink she had stopped checking her phone.

By the time she ordered her fourth martini she had drifted away from Jill and the others without really noticing, drawn to the length of the bar where the bartender worked.

Alex noticed her move. He had been watching her longer than he cared to admit—catching the way she lifted the glass, the small, absent turn of her wrist, the quiet focus she gave the amber liquid as if it might offer answers the rest of the room could not.

Miles followed his line of sight, then raised a single eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at her for the last twenty minutes,” he said under his breath, voice laced with amusement.

“You planning on actually talking to her, or are you just going to keep brooding from a distance?”

Alex’s jaw flexed once. He did not look away from the woman at the bar. “I wasn’t staring.”

Miles snorted. “Sure you weren’t. So… are you going to go over there, or do I have to do it for you?”

Miles leaned in, grin widening. “I’m just saying—I could add one more beautiful woman to my numbers tonight.”

He nodded subtly toward the bar. “And for the record, she’s the most beautiful woman in this room. I’ve been looking at her way longer than you have. That quiet kind of pretty that hits harder the longer you stare.”

Alex’s expression cooled. “Enough.” He set his glass down without another glance at Miles, straightened the cuff of his sleeve, and stepped away from the group before his friend could say anything else.

Alex crossed the floor with the same controlled stride he used in boardrooms. He stopped a few feet from where Nyla sat, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume.

He could still see the delicate tension that still lingered at the corner of her mouth even after four martinis. The little black dress she had on clung to her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry.

For a moment he simply stood there, blue eyes steady on her profile. Then, with his voice quiet but clear enough to cut through the ambient hum of the bar, he spoke.

“Is this seat taken?”

Nyla turned, taking him in, the sharp tailoring on his black

shirt, the quiet power, the devastatingly handsome face that could make a woman forget her own name.

He wasn’t smiling, but there was a darkness in his blue eyes that mirrored her own emptiness.

“No,” she said, voice low but steady. “It’s not.”

Alex’s lips curved into the ghost of a smirk. He held out his hand. “Alex.”

Nyla took it briefly. She pulled back too fast, color already rising in her cheeks. Alex was tall, broad shoulders and confidently built. He owned a head full of dark brown hair and a strong jawline. His blue eyes were what caught her attention the most.

But no. Not today. She was not here to do small talk with another man. Not after the last one she had given her heart and body to betrayed her so coldly.

Alex didn’t push. He ordered whiskey, neat, and waited.

“You don’t talk much,” Nyla said after a moment.

“I talk when it’s worth it.” His eyes moved over her face. “You want company or solitude?”

She should have said solitude, but she loved the arrogance he came with. “Company.” She said.

They didn’t waste time on small talk. Knees brushed. Neither moved away. Her fifth martini appeared. His second whiskey followed.

The air between them tightened with every glance. “You’re running from something,” Alex said.

“So are you.”

He didn’t deny it. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Do you want to get out of here and maybe go somewhere quieter?”

Nyla’s pulse slammed once, the alcohol had already done its work. But she needed to eat.

“I’m starving,” she said.

Alex didn’t hesitate. “I know a place. Open late with no crowds.”

She nodded. He stood, dropped cash on the counter, and waited. Nyla slid off the stool and within two minutes, they cut through the bar and stepped into the cool night.

A black car waited at the curb. Alex opened the door and Nyla got in.

Ten minutes later they were in a quiet corner booth of a low-lit restaurant that felt more like a secret. Menus never appeared. Food simply arrived, simple and perfect.

They ate mostly in silence, every so often their eyes met over the table and held too long.

When the last plate was cleared, the strangest idea came to Nyla’s head. Why not avenge what Max did to her?

Max had given forever to someone else in Paris while she sat loyal and waiting. He had made her feel disposable. So why shouldn’t she take something for herself tonight?

Her gaze lifted to the man across from her, he had a kind of quiet intensity that made her pulse kick. He was a stranger. He was also the first person all night who had looked at her like she wasn’t broken.

Alex watched the shift in her expression. Whatever internal decision she had just made, he saw it. Maybe that was what he too had wanted from the start.