"Bro, why pay for sex when I have all these features? Like, what's all the wholesomeness for?"
"Get that dirty smirk off your face, man. You're saying that because you think all women are the same. I'm telling you — one day, you'll meet a woman who doesn't give a damn about your ugly face but your fine-ass pocket."
"You're really gonna swear my face is ugly?"
A satisfied laugh followed.
Two single friends, seated in an open-air section of a bar, exchanging drunken wisdom.
Sterling whistled at a hostess strutting past — deliberately, like she knew what she was doing. His aim was to catch Jeddah's attention. But Jeddah was too proud for his own good looks. He knew his worth, and he wore it like armor — shoving it into the face of every woman who liked a daring man.
His eyes scanned the room like a predator. Only, he wasn't looking for prey.
Sterling took a sip from his glass and smiled at his friend — the kind of smile that says "I know exactly what you're thinking."
"Who's it gonna be tonight?" Sterling asked with a smirk, almost dipping into his vodka.
"I swear to God, if you touch me again, I'll kill you. Try me."
Jeddah's eyes drifted from the roundness of a redhead standing a few feet away… to the sharp, unapologetic voice slicing through the air.
He hated women who tried to order their way out of things.
But she was hot.
That's beside the point.
An irritated-looking man reached for her arm as she turned to leave, heading for the exit.
"She's cooked tonight. I'm telling you," Sterling murmured.
"I doubt she'll let him. She looks fierce. She could kill," Jeddah said, draining his drink.
"Who?" Sterling raised a brow. "You drunk already, bro? Mr. One-Hundred-Bottles can't be." He chuckled. "I'm talking about that girl sitting by the door."
"Girl? That's a woman. Probably someone's mother."
"Moms need love too," Sterling chuckled, standing up like a man on a mission.
"For your mind now, guy. You wan give her love? Saint Sterl."
But Sterling was gone. No time to waste.
Jeddah glanced back at the exit, pulled out his wallet — thick with money — and dropped a generous tip. Then he stood, curiosity leading the way.
And he was right.
The man had cornered her by the door, pinning her against the wall every time she tried to walk away. She looked upset — but worse, she looked helpless.
Jeddah scoffed.
"So much for being bold."
He stood nearby, watching.
Then he pulled out his phone — an idea sparked.
When he looked back up, the man now held her waist. She was fully pinned.
They looked… intimate.
Jeddah scoffed again.
"So much drama. Why go through all that just to end up where you belong? In his bed."
He turned to leave.
"Micheal, I said stop!"
Her scream — desperate, raw — cut through the noise.
Jeddah didn't hesitate this time. He moved fast, fists forming, like some pissed-off superhero.
"You know I've been watching… and filming. This act of yours? It could end up as a movie, porn, or a twelve-year prison sentence. My choice. Not yours. And I'm picking the latter."
Well said, Jeddah.
And now you've pissed him off.
But it worked.
The man slowly released her arms, backing away.
But before Jeddah could get closer, he tripped — confused, looking up to find her standing over him, panting, clutching a stick nearly as big as Thor's hammer.
"Not bad," he muttered.
Not bad at all.
She gave a dry smile… then collapsed.
He caught her just in time.
A strange smell hit his nose — it was coming from her mouth.
Aphrodisiac.
"Why would anyone drug a woman with aphrodisiac? Where's your charm? Where's your manliness? Oh shit—where's the nearest hospital?"
He snapped back to reality.
"Please help me…"
Her voice was soft. Calm. Vulnerable.
"I'm trying. I'm getting help."
But why was he panicking? Over a stranger?
Dozens of women had flooded his bed, and he never cared how they got home. He's never let one sleep on his bed — not even for a second.
So why was he reacting like this to her touch?
He looked down.
She was staring at him.
Like her life depended on his next breath.
"I can't do what you're thinking," he whispered.
(Hell, I want to…)
She didn't seem to hear him. Her body leaned closer, pressing into his. Her energy was pleading, aching for connection.
"Can I at least take you home? Where do you live?" he asked, trying to keep control.
"Can we at least… get a room?" she whispered.
Again.
It was either the drink messing with his head — or the feel of her body against his chest — but when he opened his mouth, the answer fell out like prophecy:
"Yes."
THE NEXT MORNING
The alarm clock blared with rude aggression.
Jeddah turned slowly, pressing it off with irritation.
"God…"
His phone rang.
"Guy, where you sleep last night? You don dey break your own rules?"
Sterling's voice cracked through the speaker.
Jeddah turned his head. The room wasn't familiar. Not even a place he'd pay for when unconscious.
He rolled to the other side, hoping to see why he didn't sleep on his king-sized bed last night.
But just like his pride — she was gone.