The whiskey burned, but not as much as the eviction notice folded in my purse.
"Another one," I muttered, sliding my glass across the bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow but poured anyway. Friday nights at Eclipse weren't cheap, but after the week I'd had, I deserved to drown in something expensive.
"Rough day?"
The voice came from my left deep, smooth, with an edge that made my skin prickle. I turned, ready to dismiss whoever thought I needed company, and froze.
He was devastating. Dark hair swept back carelessly, sharp jawline, and eyes so intensely blue they seemed to glow in the bar's dim lighting. His suit probably cost more than three months of my rent. The rent I could no longer pay.
"Rough life," I corrected, taking a sip. "You?"
His lips curved into a half-smile that should've been illegal. "Let's just say I'm celebrating my last night of freedom."
"Cryptic. I like it." The alcohol was making me bold. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
He slid onto the stool beside me, his cologne wrapping around my senses. Expensive. Everything about him screamed wealth and power.
"Adrian," he offered, extending his hand.
"Emma." His grip was firm, warm, and lasted a beat too long.
"Well, Emma, what brings a beautiful woman to a place like this, drinking alone on a Friday night?"
I laughed bitterly. "Lost my promotion to someone's nephew. My landlord's kicking me out. My car made a sound this morning that I'm pretty sure means it's dying. Should I continue?"
"Please don't." But his eyes held sympathy, not pity. "Sounds like you need a distraction."
"And you're offering?"
"I'm offering another drink. What happens after that…" He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Well, that's entirely up to you."
Three drinks turned into four. Four turned into me laughing at his stories about terrible business meetings and impossible clients. He never mentioned what he did exactly, and I didn't ask. For once, I didn't want to think about work, about bills, about the disaster my life had become.
"Dance with me," he said suddenly, standing and offering his hand.
The small dance floor was crowded, but he pulled me close, his hand settling on the small of my back like it belonged there. We moved together like we'd done this a thousand times before.
"You're trouble," I whispered against his chest.
"You have no idea." His thumb traced circles on my back, sending shivers down my spine. "But so are you."
"Me? I'm the least troublesome person you'll ever meet."
He tilted my chin up, those blue eyes burning into mine. "I doubt that very much, Emma."
The kiss was inevitable. His lips claimed mine with a hunger that matched my own, and suddenly the bar was too hot, too crowded, too public.
"Your place or mine?" I breathed when we broke apart.
"Mine's closer."
His penthouse apartment overlooked the entire city. Floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist furniture, a view that probably cost more than I'd make in a lifetime.
"Nice place for someone celebrating their last night of freedom," I said, nervous energy making me chatty.
"I like nice things." He poured two glasses of wine, then crossed to where I stood by the window. "And right now, you're the nicest thing in this room."
"That's a terrible line."
"Is it working?"
I took the wine, sipped it, then set both our glasses down. "You tell me."
This kiss was different urgent, desperate, like we were both drowning and only each other could provide air. His hands tangled in my hair, mine tugged at his jacket, and somehow we made it to his bedroom without breaking apart.
That night, I forgot about evictions and dying cars and stolen promotions. I forgot about everything except the way he whispered my name like a prayer, the way his touch set every nerve ending on fire, the way I felt beautiful and wanted and alive for the first time in months.
I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and an empty bed.
There was a note on the pillow: Had to leave early. Last night was incredible. - A
No phone number. No last name. Just a single letter and a memory that already felt like a dream.
I dressed quickly, calling a rideshare and trying not to feel like a cliché. One night stand with a stranger. Very responsible, Emma.
But God, it had been worth it.
Monday morning came too fast. I'd spent the weekend apartment hunting and failing, finally crashing on my best friend Riley's couch. Now I stood in the lobby of Hartley & Associates, the marketing firm I'd worked at for three years, watching everyone buzz with nervous energy.
"Did you hear?" Riley grabbed my arm the moment I walked in. "The new CEO starts today. Apparently, he's some hotshot from New York. Total hardass."
My stomach dropped. Right. The new CEO. The reason Gerald had passed me over for Senior Marketing Director they wanted to wait and see what the new boss wanted.
"Great. Just what we need."
"All-hands meeting in ten minutes. Conference room. Mandatory."
I grabbed coffee and tried to look professional despite sleeping on a couch and still feeling Adrian's hands on my skin. That stranger had ruined me for regular men. I'd probably never see him again, but at least I'd have the memory.
The conference room was packed. I squeezed into a spot near the back, trying to be invisible.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Gerald announced, his voice booming with false enthusiasm. "Please welcome our new CEO, Adrian Hartley."
The world tilted.
Adrian my Adrian from Friday night walked into the conference room in an immaculate navy suit, every inch the powerful executive. His eyes swept the room, professional and detached.
Until they landed on me.
For one heartbeat, his expression cracked. Shock. Recognition. Heat.
Then the mask slammed back into place.
"Thank you, Gerald," he said smoothly, his voice the same one that had whispered filthy promises in my ear. "I'm looking forward to working with all of you. Hartley & Associates is entering a new era, and I expect nothing but excellence from my team."
His eyes found mine again, and this time there was something darker there. Something possessive.
"Starting today, things are going to change around here."
Riley leaned over. "He's hot. But he looks like he eats people for breakfast."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Because Adrian Hartley my one-night stand wasn't just my new boss.
He was a Hartley. As in, owner of the company. As in, the man who now controlled my career, my livelihood, my future.
And from the way he was looking at me, he had no intention of pretending Friday night never happened.
I was so incredibly screwed.