Chapter 6
795 Words
Leona Everhart had made enough bad decisions for one night.
So, naturally, she was about to make one more.
The Christmas gala had finally come to an end, the last of the guests trickling out of the Aurelius Hotel, leaving behind empty champagne flutes and the distant hum of jazz still lingering in the air.
She had done her job. The event had been a success.
And yet, all she could feel was the heavy weight of the night pressing down on her—like the aftershock of a storm she had barely survived.
Ian. Rachel. The kiss. The confrontation.
Her entire world had cracked open in a matter of hours, and now, standing in the empty ballroom, surrounded by fading holiday lights and the ghosts of a relationship that no longer existed, she felt something she hadn’t expected.
Freedom.
Chaotic. Reckless. Unapologetic freedom.
So when Maya—her brilliant, trouble-making, ride-or-die assistant—waved a cocktail in front of her face and said, “We’re getting drunk. No arguments.”
Leona didn’t argue.
She just grabbed the drink, threw it back, and decided that tonight?
She wasn’t going to be responsible.
She wasn’t going to be the planner.
She was going to let go.
And that was how she found herself in a dimly lit nightclub, surrounded by pulsing Christmas lights, a bass-heavy remix of All I Want for Christmas Is You vibrating through the air as she downed another shot of something strong and burning.
She had never been a club person.
But tonight wasn’t about what she usually did.
Tonight was about what she wanted.
And what she wanted… was to forget.
At least for a little while.
—
Across the Club…
Rhyder Vale had spent the entire evening pretending.
Pretending to be engaged in conversations that bored him. Pretending to be entertained by people who wanted something from him. Pretending that he wasn’t exhausted by the sheer performance of being Rhyder Vale.
So, when the gala ended, he did what he always did.
He slipped out.
Left behind the suffocating glamour, the empty pleasantries, the weight of expectations.
And found himself here.
A Christmas-themed nightclub wasn’t exactly his usual scene, but the appeal was the same—loud music, dim lights, and a crowd that didn’t care who he was.
For a few hours, he could just be a man with a drink in his hand and a night stretched out before him, waiting to be filled with something reckless, something temporary.
Maybe a one-night stand.
No attachments. No expectations. Just a brief escape before he returned to the reality waiting for him.
And then—
Through the haze of red and green lights, across the crowded dance floor—
He saw her.
Leona Everhart.
Still in her evening gown, hair slightly tousled, a drink in one hand, her lips parted in a laugh as Maya twirled her dramatically.
Something sharp and electric shot through him.
Because he had already kissed her once tonight.
And now, seeing her here—wild and untethered—he suddenly had the urge to do it again.
Maybe that was a bad idea.
Maybe it was the worst idea.
But Rhyder Vale had never been one to avoid bad ideas.
He was the kind of man who leaned into them.
—
One Night Only
Leona was definitely tipsy.
Not quite drunk, but bold enough to not overthink her decisions.
Which was exactly why, when she turned and saw him—
Leaning against the bar, watching her with a smirk that made her stomach flip—
She didn’t hesitate.
She walked straight up to Rhyder Vale, met his gaze, and said—
“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Vale.”
His smirk deepened. “Fancy that.”
She c****d her head. “You following me?”
“Not my style,” he murmured. “But if I was… would you mind?”
Her heart skipped.
Oh.
Oh, that was dangerous.
But wasn’t that the point?
She hummed, trailing a finger along the rim of her glass. “So what is your style?”
Rhyder tilted his head slightly, his gaze heavy, deliberate. “You tell me, Ms. Everhart. You seem to have me all figured out.”
Leona exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Not even close.”
“Good,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and warm. “That makes two of us.”
Her breath hitched.
The air between them was thick, crackling, charged with something unspoken.
And then—
“Wanna get out of here?” she heard herself say.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t logical.
But God, it felt right.
Rhyder didn’t miss a beat.
He set his drink down, took her hand, and led her toward the exit.
- Writer
