The Bar
The deafening music pounded like a second heartbeat.
Cecilia weaved through the crowd, tossing her long hair with a wild, reckless flair.The bass reverberated through the air, drowning out everything else.
She moved with the beat, arms and hips swaying freely--until a warm hand brushed against hers.
Before she could react, she lost her balance and stumbled into someone's chest.
"Throwing yourself at me already?" the man teased, his hand casually sliding to her waist.
Cecilia frowned, shoving him off just enough to reclaim some space before turning back to the music, continuing her descent into abandon.
But the man wasn't done. His grin widened as he stepped closer again. "I like women who play hard to get like you."
"Too bad. I don't like plaid," she shot back, eyeing his lumberjack-chic shirt.
With a laugh, he peeled off the offending garment, revealing toned abs and sun-kissed skin that probably made lesser women swoon.
"Better?" He pulled her closer.
"Still no. Hate dark slacks."
"That's a problem," he chuckled. "If I take these off, I'll be naked."
"Well, then I'm afraid I can't help you." Cecilia slipped from his arms and walked off the dance floor, vanishing into the crowd.
"Aw, come on." he called after her.
"Stay away from me--" Cecilia was already getting irritated with his persistence. She snapped, turning--
--only to freeze.
There, by the bar's entrance, walked in Gia--hand in hand with Ronald, trailed by their usual entourage of trust-fund brats and socialites.
Gia's eyes locked onto Cecilia's. A slow, venomous smile spread across her face.
Perfect.
"Well, well, if it isn't our dear Cecilia," Ted drawled, stepping forward with a smirk.
He glanced at the man beside her and let out a low whistle. "Damn, sweetheart. That guy you were just grinding on--definitely not the one in this morning's headlines."
A blonde from the group, snickered. "Guess the wedding vows didn't stick. What, morning at the chapel, midnight at the bar?"
"Come on, we all know Cecilia's the queen," another chimed in. "she's always been multitalented. Knows how to work a room--and a bedroom."
"Of course," another snickered. "Especially since her new hubby clearly can't measure up to Ronald. Probably didn't last two minutes. Men can be average in everything else, but in bed? They've gotta be Olympic-level."
Cecilia didn't bat an eye. She smiled sweetly and played along. "Well said. Ronald always did talk a big game, but when it came down to it...he couldn't even last long enough for me to get bored."
Ronald's jaw tightened. He dropped Gia's arm and stalked into the bar without another word.
Gia shoved past Cecilia, shoulder-checking her hard. "Move, has-been."
The group, sensing the fun was over, slunk after them like bored hyenas.
Cecilia dusted off her shoulder and turned to the persistent stranger. "Weren't you going to buy me a drink?"
The man blinked, then hurried to catch up. "Of course. Anything you want."
"Blazing Fury." Cecilia dropped onto a barstool and ordered the bar's strongest drink without hesitation.
The man--Nick--gave the bartender a sheepish smile, then slid onto the stool beside her, discreetly tapping away on his phone.
[Your wife is a goddamn warrior. Zero hesitation, full squad wipe in seconds. Liam, buddy, your future looks rough. Take care.]
In a luxury apartment across town, Liam was signing off on the last of his documents when his phone buzzed once.
He glanced at the screen out of habit...and then picked it up for a closer look.
As he read the vivid play-by-play, his lips curled into a slow, amused grin.
Liam set the phone down, leaned back in his leather chair, and stared at the ceiling.
Cecilia Martin...she really was something else.
***
Back at the bar, Nick put his phone away and looked toward Cecilia--just in time to see her knock back another shot like it was water.
A chill ran down his spine.
Five minutes. That's all it took for Cecilia to empty a lineup of the bar's strongest liquors--Blazing Fury, Devil's Cut, even the bartender's infamous Hell's Boulevard.
She slammed the last glass down, her movements sharp despite the alcohol.
"Ma'am, I can't serve you anymore," the bartender said carefully, hesitating before sliding the next drink toward her.
Cecilia snatched it anyway, tilting her head back. The amber liquid vanished in one smooth motion.
"This's magic," she mumbled with a dazed smile. "I swear I can see stars winking at me."
Then--thud.
Face-first onto the bar. Out cold.
Nick moved to lift her, preparing to get her out before anyone made a scene--
"PUT HER DOWN."
The voice cut through the bar's noise like a blade.
Nick barely had time to react before a fist came at his face. He ducked instinctively--barely missing the blow.
Ronald.
He stood there, his tailored suit doing little to hide the coiled violence in his stance. His jaw clenched, his gaze locked on Cecilia passed out in Nick's arms. For some reason, the sight made his blood boil.
"I said," Ronald repeated, low and dangerous, "PUT. HER. DOWN."
Nick's smile barely moved. He didn't reply, just gave the man a long, slow once-over.
Ronald caught the mockery in his eyes and bristled. "Last warning."
"Ooh, scary." Nick adjusted his grip on Cecilia, ignoring the way her brow furrowed in drunken irritation.
Damn, Liam owes him big for this.
Then--Ronald moved.
He trained in Muay Thai, he was fast, aggressive, and brutal--every move designed to incapacitate.
Nick was quick, but holding Cecilia slowed him down. Within seconds, he found himself on the defensive.
Ronald didn't let up. One blow after another, calculated and relentless.
Thud! Nick slammed into the wall, blood trickling from his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand and chuckled. "Fuck,"
"LEAVE," Ronald growled.
Ronald turned, crouching beside Cecilia's unconscious form. For a long moment, he just...watched her.
Her face, even unconscious, was as beautiful and unreadable as ever.
The hazy scent in the air stirred something familiar in Cecilia's foggy mind.
She blinked slowly, her empty gaze gradually focusing on the face she'd spent three years with.
That impeccably composed expression, those thin, indifferent lips--still carrying the same cold, rogue charm as always.
Slap--
The crisp sound echoed through the bar, catching Ronald completely off guard.