A server approached with a tray, filling glasses. And in that moment, Christian forgot the chatter around him. She wasn't like the women who threw themselves at him her beauty was unpolished, natural, and it lured him in instantly. From the soft curve of her lips to the subtle dimple in her smile, she was magnetic.
He couldn't look away. Desire surged so quickly that it unsettled him.
When another guest spilt a drink on her, Susan's smile faltered. Christian noticed the irritation hidden behind her polite mask. Amused, he followed her as she set her tray down and headed to the bathroom.
Susan pressed the towel against her damp top, muttering under her breath, when the air shifted charged, heavy. She turned, and froze.
He was there. Towering. Watching.
Her pulse spiked, breath catching in her throat. For a split second, the shadow of her ex flickered through her mind. Her fingers tightened around the towel.
"Sir…" Her voice cracked, soft, trembling.
Christian didn't move. His gaze traced her face, unreadable, his presence filling every inch of the small bathroom until there was nowhere for her to run.
Panic tangled with something far more dangerous awareness.
And then he leaned in.
Susan's body reacted before her mind caught up. The memory of fear snapped her spine straight. Her hand flew before she could think...
Smack.
The sound echoed off the tiled walls. His head turned sharply with the force of her slap.
"Get away from me!" she shouted, chest heaving.
For a moment, silence. Her own ragged breathing was the only sound between them. Christian's jaw flexed, eyes flashing with fury and something else she couldn't name.
For brief seconds, the shock on her face had eased his own rage, but as he sat on the couch, jaw tight, gripping a glass like it was the cause of his rejection. Rage twisted inside him. She had slapped him. And yet, she'd walked back into the room wearing that polite smile, as if nothing had happened. The rejection seared through his pride.
"I have to go," he muttered to Michael, hugging him briefly before heading out. On the way, he collided with another woman.
Christian's gaze followed. The same loose curls framed the face he had been trying not to think about. Susan locked eyes with him, refusing to look away.
For someone who had panicked minutes ago, she showed surprising resistance to his deadly glare.
He hated that he was the one who turned away first. If he stayed, he feared he wouldn't resist he would make sure to break her right there and then.
Susan tried to sleep, but his face haunted her. His scent, his voice, his eyes they lingered in her thoughts. He terrified her, yet he had also steadied her panic in a way she couldn't explain.
She had never fought back before, not even against her abusive ex. Yet with him, instinct had driven her to slap him. That reaction shocked her most of all.
Still, she hated that she couldn't push him from her thoughts. Half her next day was filled with work, the other half with flashes of his piercing gaze, dragging her into dangerous daydreams that left her flushed and restless.
Two days passed before Chris finally gave in to the thought, nagging at the back of his mind. He picked up his phone and dialled Michael. If anyone knew where she worked, it would be him.
"Wow," Michael chuckled as soon as he answered, his friend calling on personal line surprised him.
Chris ignored the teasing tone. "What bar served drinks at that party?"
"You know," Michael said, laughing, "when I saw your name flash across my phone, I thought the world had tilted."
"I'm not in the mood for your childish games," Chris snapped, irritation already bubbling.
"Says the one begging for my help," Michael drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Just give me the damn name," Chris hissed, patience thinning.
Michael paused for a beat. "The Beast," he finally said. Chris didn't bother replying, just silence, the sound of furious typing, and then the call disconnected. Michael scoffed into the empty line.
The music at The Beast pulsed through the walls, bass-heavy and wild. Behind the counter, Susan poured drinks with practised ease, her body moving slightly to the rhythm, fatigue momentarily forgotten. She smiled at customers, tilted bottles, and slid glasses across the polished bar.
Then everything stilled.