Chapter 3
1094 Words
She blinked at the space where he’d been standing. Gone. She started tapping her feet on the floor, trying to be stable. That was when a voice rushed through her ear. Deep, smooth, too close, making her breath falter.
“Rough night?”
Aria nearly dropped her drink.
She turned quickly. He was beside her now, close enough for her to catch a mild scent of expensive cologne and alcohol. At this distance, he was even more dangerous—tall, broad shoulders, sharp jawline, smooth skin, all under a tailored suit.
“I… I’m fine”, she lied.
“Oh! That's right,” he said simply, lips curving. “But that's alright, at least most people are.”
The look on her face spelled irritation. “Do you always hand out drinks to strangers?”
“Only when they look like they’re trying too hard to forget something.” His eyes slowly went down to her body, before rising to her face again. “What are you running away from, sweetheart?”
Nobody had ever put it into words like that. She clung to the bar. “None of your business.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, “but you might want it to be.”
“And why would I want that?” Her cheeks reddened with fury.
“Mm…” he smirked, “I might have a solution.”
She hated the way her body betrayed her. Her legs pressed tightly against the floor, heat flooding her skin. She wanted to push him back, but then his presence swallowed the whole room. “You don’t even know me,” she whispered.
He smiled— slow and dangerous. “Not yet.”
“Well… maybe you shouldn’t.” Her tongue tripped over words.
He raised his brows, slightly amazed. “Shouldn’t what?”
She leaned back in and rested her back with a pale face. “Know me. Or— or talk to me. Or…” She shook her head, realizing how ridiculous she sounded. “Forget it.”
He calmly grabbed a stool, shifting it towards her, leaning an elbow on the bar. “You always this charming, or is it just me?”
Heat climbed her neck. “I’m— I’m not charming. I’m trying to be left alone. Which, only if you had eyes, you’d see that”
“Mm.” His gaze was steady, smooth as his voice. “Funny way of saying that, sitting here and drinking the drink I sent you.”
Aria opened her mouth, then closed it again. She felt stupid. The lump in her throat wouldn’t go away. “That does not mean anything.”
He tilted his head, “Doesn’t it?”
She hated the way her body betrayed her, leaning towards him even as her brain screamed to stay still. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but … I’m not the type.”
His lips curved lazily. “The type for what?”
Aria froze. The way he said it—soft, unbothered—made it worse. Like she was the only one panicking, while he was simply enjoying a glass of whiskey.
She looked away, desperate for air. “Forget it.”
His voice was low, smooth, wrapping around her like smoke. “If you really wanted me to, sweetheart… You wouldn’t still be here.”
He suggests they leave the noise. “Come with me.” His hands brush hers as he takes away the empty glass, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath.
Her heart pounded in her chest. “I don’t even know your name,” she tried, but her voice came out weaker than she meant.
“Names complicate things,” with a tender smile curving his lips.
She just sat there frozen. She wasn't this girl; she wasn't reckless. “This is insane. I don’t do things like this. I mean, I don’t even know you, and it’s late, and… and my best friend is somewhere in there, probably wondering where I went, and honestly, I should just go.” Her voice was cracking with nerves
He didn’t interrupt, nor did he try to convince her. He only watched, calm, sipping his drink like time belonged to him.
“See? You should walk away now. Really. Just go.”
He leaned in slightly, his voice low, steady. “Then why haven’t you?”
Slowly, she set the glass down, her fingers shaking. Her legs moved before her brain caught up.
“God, I hate this,” she muttered under her breath as she stood.
His smile curved, smooth, and unbothered. “No, sweetheart. You don’t.”
She pushed off the stool. Her balance faltering slightly from the alcohol, she fell into his arms. Soft, warm, real.
Before she could stop herself, her feet were moving, drunk, nervous, and curious. Leaving behind Mia, who was lost in the crowd, probably still dancing. Her heart was beating too loudly for her to think straight.
He didn’t say where they were going. She followed as he cut through the crowd with authority in his movements, people stepping aside as if they knew better than to obstruct him.
Down a narrow hallway, as if they were heading back towards the entrance, the bouncer gave him a nod of recognition. No questions asked. Aria’s heartbeat stumbled faster. Who was this man? The music went faint.
And then they were inside.
The door shut behind them, cutting off the music. The quiet felt heavy. The room smelled of leather and his cologne—too close, too private.
He gave her a glass, his fingers brushing hers and staying too long. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She should have moved away, but she didn’t.
He leaned in slightly. His thumb traced her jaw, tilting her face up just enough to meet his eyes. She told herself she wouldn’t move first. She didn’t have to. His mouth found hers—warm, whiskey-sweet, hungry.
Between the couch and the bed, her laughter turned into gasps. The world outside was gone. When her back hit the sheets, there was no job, no shame, no past; just him.
Her back hit the sheets, and she finally let her guard down, reckless and unthinking.
Then the silence pressed in. His face above hers, shadowed, unreadable. His lips brushed her ear, the words low, deliberate, and smooth without any stutters.
“Be careful who you trust, Aria.”
The room suddenly felt cold. Her breath stalled. He shouldn’t have known her name.
- Writer
