The bass thumped through the walls of the nightclub, lights pulsing in every color of the rainbow. Sienna Reed sat at the bar, champagne glass in hand, trying to remind herself that she was here to celebrate, not overthink.
Her best friend, Harper, had demanded it. "One last wild night before I become a boring wife," Harper had laughed, dragging their group of friends into the loudest, most expensive club in the city.
Sienna wasn't exactly the club type. She liked quiet cafés, cozy bookstores, late nights buried in research papers. But Harper was right—this was a milestone worth marking. Sienna had just defended her doctoral dissertation. After years of stress, sleepless nights, and proving herself again and again, she was finally Dr. Sienna Reed. The champagne in her glass wasn't just about Harper's wedding—it was for her, too.
Still, as she sipped the bubbly liquid, a small voice whispered: You don't belong here. You never belong at these things.
"Stop thinking so hard," Harper said, sliding into the stool beside her, veil glittering under the strobe lights. She nudged Sienna with her shoulder. "You're allowed to have fun, you know."
"I'm having fun," Sienna said weakly.
"Liar." Harper grinned, leaning close. "You're twenty-six, gorgeous, and smarter than anyone I know. You finished your doctorate before half the people our age figured out what to do with their lives. Tonight isn't about control, it's about freedom."
Sienna laughed, embarrassed but warmed by her friend's words. Maybe Harper was right. Maybe she could let go, just for one night.
She glanced toward the dance floor. People moved like waves, the crowd blurring into a mess of sequins, sweat, and laughter. Then her eyes caught on someone across the bar.
He was leaning against the counter, half in shadow, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair that fell carelessly across his forehead. He wasn't trying to be the center of attention like so many others in the room. He was just… there. Quiet. Watching.
And when his gaze shifted, landing on her, something jolted through her chest.
Sienna quickly looked away, her cheeks heating. Don't be ridiculous. He's probably waiting for someone. Someone tall, leggy, and ten times more confident than you.
But when she dared to peek again, he was still watching her. A slow, knowing smile tugged at his mouth.
"Okay, wow," Harper whispered, following her gaze. "You need to go talk to him."
"What? No." Sienna shook her head furiously. "Absolutely not."
"Yes. You're officially not allowed to waste this doctorate brain on excuses tonight. Go." Harper shoved her gently off the stool.
Sienna stumbled, clutching her champagne. Before she could argue, Harper had already disappeared into the crowd of dancing bridesmaids, leaving her stranded.
The man didn't look away as she made her hesitant way across the bar. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
When she stopped a few feet away, he raised an eyebrow. "Was that your friend's not-so-subtle idea?"
Sienna blinked, then laughed nervously. "Maybe."
"Well," he said, his voice deep, smooth, "I'm not complaining."
Up close, he was even more striking. His jaw was sharp, his stubble dark, his eyes an intense shade of grey that reminded her of storm clouds.
"I'm Sienna," she said quickly, before she lost her nerve.
"Adrian." His hand was warm, steady, when he shook hers.
They ended up talking for an hour. At first, it was light—the ridiculous neon cocktails, Harper's sparkling veil, the chaos of weddings. But then, somehow, they slipped into deeper things. Philosophy. The meaning of success. Why people were drawn to each other in ways that made no sense.
"You're a psychologist?" he asked, when she mentioned her degree.
"Not yet," she corrected. "Freshly graduated. Officially a doctor. Still figuring out the next step."
His smile was soft, almost admiring. "Congratulations, Doctor Reed."
The way he said it sent heat crawling up her neck.
She should have left it at that. A nice conversation with a stranger, a little confidence boost. But the champagne was warm in her blood, and his storm-grey eyes made her reckless. When he leaned in and murmured, "Want to get out of here?" she didn't hesitate.
---
The hotel room was everything she expected from someone like him—sleek, expensive, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city. She barely noticed any of it, because the moment the door shut, his mouth was on hers.
It wasn't clumsy, alcohol-fueled fumbling. It was hungry, certain, like he'd known from the moment he saw her. And for once, Sienna didn't want to think. She didn't want to weigh consequences or plan ahead. She just wanted to feel.
Clothes scattered around the room. Hands roamed over their bodies. She let herself drown in the moment, in him.
---
The morning after was less kind.
Grey light leaked through the curtains, her skull pounding in protest. Sienna groaned softly, shifting under the blankets. The air smelled faintly of expensive soap and the cologne she had buried her face in last night.
Then she froze.
There was a man beside her.
Her eyes widened as she turned, heart thudding. His back was to her, broad and muscled, rising and falling with even breaths.
Oh God.
Her mind scrambled for the details. Adrian. Whiskey. His voice in her ear. His body against hers.
Panic shot through her chest.
This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her life. She didn't do things like this. She was supposed to be the careful one, the responsible one, the woman who always had her head on straight. Not the woman sneaking out of a stranger's bed after a one-night stand.
He stirred then, rolling slightly, his arm heavy as it slid across her waist. Her breath caught. She went rigid, heart racing, afraid even to move.
A low sound escaped his chest as he pulled her closer in sleep. She caught sight of his face—strong jaw, messy black hair, lips softened in rest. He was unfairly handsome, even like this.
But the sight didn't steady her. It terrified her.
Carefully, inch by inch, she slid out from under his arm. The sheets whispered against her skin as she scrambled to her feet, heart in her throat.
Her clothes were scattered across the floor. She gathered them quickly, pulling them on in a blur. Her purse sat on the chair. She grabbed it, clutching it to her chest like a shield.
At the door, she paused.
He was still asleep, breathing steady, face turned toward the window. Peaceful. As if she'd never been there.
Sienna swallowed hard, then slipped out of the room, barefoot on the soft carpet of the hotel hallway.
She didn't look back.
She told herself it didn't matter. She didn't know his last name. She wouldn't see him again. It was a mistake, a blip, something to lock away and forget.
But as the elevator doors closed, her reflection staring back at her, she felt a hollow ache settle deep inside her.
She didn't know it yet, but Adrian—the man with the storm-cloud eyes—wasn't going to fade into memory.
He was only just beginning.