Ethel's pov
Listen, I'm not usually the type to let my friends talk me into stupid shit, but apparently three cosmos and peer pressure can make a girl do crazy things. Who knew?
"Ethel, you're being ridiculous," Mia shouted over the pounding bass at Eclipse, this trendy club downtown that charged twenty dollars for a drink and acted like they were doing you a favor.
"It's just a dare. All you have to do is walk up to any guy and flirt. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Um, public humiliation? Getting laughed at? Take your pick." I adjusted my black bodycon dress—the one that made my ass look incredible but was currently cutting off circulation to my legs. Beauty is pain and all that bullshit.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Girl, you just moved here six months ago to get away from that loser Marcus. When's the last time you actually talked to a man who wasn't asking if you wanted fries with that?"
Ouch. But honestly? She had a point. My dating life since arriving in the city had been more nonexistent than my savings account, and that was saying something.
"Fine," I said, downing the rest of my cosmos. "But I get to pick the guy, and if this goes sideways, you're buying my drinks for the rest of the night."
"Deal," they chorused, way too eagerly for my liking.
I scanned the crowded club, looking for someone who seemed approachable. The usual suspects were all there.
The twenty-something finance bros in their identical button-downs, the guys who thought buying bottle service made them God's gift to women, the ones who were definitely here with their girlfriends but still eye-fucking every woman who walked by.
Then I saw him. Bingo!
He was sitting at the bar, slightly removed from the chaos, nursing what looked like whiskey and checking his phone like he had somewhere better to be.
Older than the usual club crowd maybe mid-forties with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of tailored shirt that screamed money. He looked completely out of place, which honestly made him more interesting.
"That one," I said, pointing in his direction. "I've found my target."
Mia squinted through the strobing lights. "Seriously? He looks like someone's dad." She said with an eye roll. "Pick another."
"No," I replied. "That's exactly why I picked him because he's a Safe choice. He'll probably be flattered by the attention and let me down easy when I make my graceful exit."
What I didn't tell them was that something about him caught my attention in a way that had nothing to do with playing it safe.
Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the fact that he looked like he could buy and sell half the guys in this place without blinking.
"Go get him, tiger," Sarah said, giving me a little push toward the bar.
I took a deep breath, channeled every ounce of fake confidence I could muster, and made my way through the crowd.
"This seat taken?" I asked, sliding onto the barstool next to him before he could answer.
He looked up from his phone, and honestly? I was not prepared for those eyes. Dark, intelligent, with the kind of intensity that made you feel like he was seeing right through whatever act you were putting on.
"It is now," he said, and his voice was all gravelly and smooth like expensive whiskey.
The bartender appeared instantly—apparently this guy had that kind of presence. "What can I get you?"
"Surprise me," I said, keeping my eyes on mystery man. "Something that matches my mood."
"And what mood is that?" he asked, finally putting his phone away and giving me his full attention.
"Dangerously confident with a side of terrible decision-making."
He laughed and the sound sent heat straight through me. "In that case, she'll have a whiskey sour," he told the bartender. "Top shelf."
"Presumptuous," I said. "What makes you think I like whiskey?"
"Call it an educated guess." He extended his hand. "Louis."
"Ethel." His handshake was firm, warm, and lasted just long enough to be interesting. "So Louis, what brings a man like you to a place like this? You seem a little too sophisticated for the usual club scene."
"Business dinner ran late so my colleagues insisted on continuing the night here." He gestured vaguely toward a group of suits holding court near the VIP section. "You?"
"Peer pressure and questionable life choices." The bartender set down my drink, and I took a sip. It was perfect—smooth with just enough bite. "Good guess on the whiskey."
"I'm good at reading people." He grinned.
"What's your read on me then?" I flicked my hair backwards.
He studied me for a moment, and I felt that flutter in my stomach again. This was supposed to be a harmless dare, but something about the way he looked at me made it feel like more.
"You're here on a dare," he said finally. "Your friends probably bet you wouldn't talk to the older guy at the bar. You're nervous but trying not to show it, and you're a lot more interesting than you give yourself credit for."
I nearly choked on my drink. "That's... disturbingly accurate. Are you psychic or something?" I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Just observant." He leaned closer, and I caught his scent—something expensive and masculine that made my brain go a little fuzzy. "The question is, what happens now that you've completed your dare?"
This was my cue to make a graceful exit, return to my friends, and collect on those free drinks. But looking at Louis—the way the dim lighting played across his features, the confidence in his posture, the hint of something dangerous in his smile—I found myself not wanting to leave.
"Well," I said, turning on my stool so our knees were almost touching, "that depends. Are you the type of man who's interested in seeing where terrible decisions lead?"
His eyes darkened, and I knew I was in trouble. The good kind of trouble.
"I might be," he said quietly. "But I should warn you, I don't do anything halfway."
The bass drop from the music seemed to sync with my heartbeat, and suddenly the dare seemed like the least important thing in the world. This man was looking at me like I was the most interesting thing he'd encountered in a long time, and honestly? It had been way too long since anyone made me feel like that.
"Neither do I," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded.
And that's when I knew that whatever happened next, this night was going to change everything.