Soft rays of morning sunlight spilled through the gap in the heavy curtains, illuminating the luxurious hotel suite. She stirred, her head pounding slightly as she tried to register everything around.
Why does this feel and smell so nice she thought to herself.
The silk sheets beneath her were far too expensive for someone like her and the cologne lingering...
Wait a cologne..
A cologne.
Her eyes sung open
Oh no.
What have I done?
Her body tensed as fragmented memories played before her.
No no no no
This can't be happening.
She buried her face in her palm as more memory flooded in.
No this must be a dream...
I'm in a dream. I'm in a goddamn dream.
Her cheeks burned at the thought, and her heart raced with equal parts of exhilaration and embarrassment.
She turned her head cautiously praying it was really a dream. Her breath seized when she saw him.
The man.
He was still asleep, the sheet was barely covering his rising chest.
His face was blur. very blur. And without her contact she could see nothing.
"Oh, God," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
She dragged both hands up into her hair, grabbing a fistful of it as though she could yank the mistake right out of her skull.
This is stupid.
she had spent the night with a stranger. A dangerously sexy, mysterious stranger whose name and face she doesn't even know.
And it all started last night...
9 Hours ago...
Club Noir.
10 pm
The strong smell of tequila hung in the air. Thick and stubborn, it curled through the dim, pulsing haze of Club Noir. Lights flashed in radiant colors, painting everything in temporary color.
Lila Monroe moved through the crowd balancing a tray of neon cocktails with a smile that barely hid her discomfort.
She ducked as a drunk businessman waved his arms dangerously close to her head.
"Make way, people! Drinks first, flirting later!" she chirped, sidestepping a couple grinding like they were auditioning for something X-rated.
Her heels wobbled on the sticky floor, but years of working in this chaotic, neon-lit battlefield had made her a master of recovery.
Well… most of the time.
'Hey, watch it!' a gruff voice snapped as her tray bumped into a big man nursing his glass of beer.
"Sorry!" Lila said, flashing an apologetic grin before darting away.
Her shift was nearly over, and she was counting down the minutes until she could collapse into bed.
The night had been chaotic with angry customers, spilled drinks, and flirting couples and singles.
A typical sunday night at the Club.
At the bar, her best friend Kate Walfers leaned on the counter, arms crossed, watching her with the kind of amusement that only came from shared misery.
"Rough night?"
Lila groaned, shoving her curls out of her face. "Rough is generous. I think I broke my personal record for most disasters in one shift."
Kate chuckled. "Well, at least you're consistent."
Lila rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. Kate had always been like. She always had a way of making her feel better, even on the worst days.
"By the way," Kate added, leaning closer, "you've got a fan."
Lila blinked. "A fan?"
Kate nodded toward the VIP corner. "Booth three."
She followed her gaze and froze.
There, lounging like sin incarnate, sat a man who looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes or maybe a luxury watch ad. He wasn't just good looking he was breath taking. His inky dark hair was styled in a . Strands falling on his golden stripe black mask that hid half of his face. Between the mask was his dark piercing eyes which was pratically—maybe not—fixed on her. His suit looked custom-made, and his presence was magnetic and mysterious.
"Who wears a mask to a club." Lila murmured.
Kate grinned, her face resting on her palm like she was day dreaming. "Maybe a royalty, or a Mafia huuuu."
Lila sighed. "This isn't a novel Kate. Read the room."
"Look at him, he's definitely looking like a Lucian or a Xavier... Oh my prince."
Lila cringed. "Girl you really need to stop reading those books. It's getting to your head."
"Maybe not."
"He's... not exactly our usual clientele,"
Kate smirked. "No kidding. And he hasn't taken his eyes off you all night."
Lila felt the blush creeping in before she could stop it. She glanced back.
Yep, he was watching.
But now he was swirling the whiskey in his glass, absorbed in some thought. The intensity of his gaze had vanished, replaced with something else entirely.
"Probably just people-watching," she muttered.
"People-watching you," Kate countered.
"Or he's a serial killer," Lila deadpanned.
Kate grinned. "If that's what serial killers look like, I'm available on Tuesdays."
"Kate! He's practically hiding his face."
"So?" Kate scoffed grinning. "I don't care."
Lila shook her head, grinning. Unlike Kate she doesn't have the time for distractions. Especially not the kind wrapped in a three-piece suit but before she could savor the moment, an all-too-familiar voice boomed from across the room.
"LILAAAAA!"
She flinched. "Oh, hell."
Kate winced. "Oscar again?"
"Wasn't he supposed to be with his boyfriend?"
"Guess they broke up. Again." Kate slid fresh drinks onto her tray with speed born of experience. "You better go, he's got that twitch in his eye."
Lila hissed through clenched teeth, "Why?! Why me?! Why today?!"
"Ask him, he's almost here."
"Idiot," she muttered, slipping into the crowd before Oscar's voice got any closer.
Behind her, Oscar's voice echoed like thunder. "That girl!!!"
Kate stood awkwardly at the bar as Oscar slammed a hand down. "Should I call Benson?" She asked.
"Shut up!" he snapped, his eyes blazing.
Kate coughed and scratched the back of her head. "Guess they really did fight," she mumbled, silently begging for a rescue.
Meanwhile, Lila moved among the crowd like a woman on the run, almost falling when a lady suddenly passed her,
"Careful," she muttered, sidestepping.
She was almost at the VIP's when she saw him again.
The mystery man.
But he wasn't people-watching her anymore. Instead, he was focused on his phone, fingers dancing over the screen.
Who was this guy? She paused. He wasn't befitting for a place like this. He look far more expensive and dangerous, more like the kind of man who could make bad decisions feel like the best idea you'd ever had. And some how she was drawn to him. This was the first time she felt attracted to a man in her 22 years of life.
As if sensing her stare, he looked up and their eyes met.
Lila froze. Her tray shook slightly in her hand.
Oh no. Big mistake.
His gaze was like a lightning bolt, sharp and intense and just a little bit dirty and wicked.
She swallowed hard, suddenly hyper aware of her scuffed heels, cheap dress, and the fact that her hair probably smelled like margarita mix.
Her brain screamed at her to walk away, but her feet didn't get the memo.
she pasted on her best professional smile and approached his table. "Hi there, can I get you anything else, or are you just here to brood mysteriously in the shadows?"
His lips twitched breaking through his hard, sculpted mask.
She could not tell if he was smiling or smirking or just another kind of emotion that she doesn't know exist.
"I'll take another whiskey." He paused "And your name."
Lila blinked, her brain stuttering "My name? But that's not a drink." She play along.
"But I'll love to have it." He said his eyes searching for hers. He was quite the smooth talker and she wasn't about to fall for that.
"Lila," she said, setting the tray down. "But I'm not on the menu."
A beat passed. Then a slow smirked formed at the corner of his lips.
"Pity." he murmured, placing an elbow on the table his long finger gracing the edge of his chin. He looked so unresistable even without trying.
The smirk he had given her should've come with a warning label. Lila's knees trembled slightly. Shaking off the heat creeping up her neck, she quickly set his new whiskey down on the table, praying her hands wouldn't shake and spill it all over his impressive lap.
"Enjoy," she managed to say before pivoting on her heel to escape.
But just as she turned, his voice stopped her mid-step.
"Stay."
It didn't looked like a request to her, neither was it a suggestion. It was more like a command.
And just like that, Lila knew two things.
One: this man was trouble.
Two: she was absolutely screwed.
She turned slowly, arching an eyebrow to cover her nerves. "Stay? Do I look like a golden retriever to you?"
His smirk deepened, his whiskey swirling lazily in his hand as he leaned back in his seat. "No, but you're far more interesting than anything else in this place. Sit."
Lila blinked at him. Sit? Like… sit-sit? Did he think she had time to plop down and flirt with mysterious hot guys in the VIP section? She had three tables to cover, a manager who kept giving her death glares, her brother's medical bills and a rent payment breathing down her neck. And he wants to chat?
"Sorry, but I have an actual job to do," she said, tossing him a quick smile and making a second attempt to leave.
But this time, his hand shot out, long fingers lightly encircling her wrist. The touch was electric and gentle, but firm enough to freeze her in place.
"I insist," he said softly.