I wasn't drunk.
I wasn't desperate.
I was simply done being the woman Frank turned me into.
That's why, when I turned my head and saw him, everything inside me went still.
He didn't look like he belonged in that bar.
He looked like a man who walked in to make women regret their marriages, their morals, and their underwear choices.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair that fell naturally into place. A jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds.
And his eyes God, those eyes were trouble.
Calm. Observant. Intelligent.
Like he saw everything… and judged nothing.
He sat alone, one elbow resting lazily on the table, his fingers sliding slowly along the rim of his glass. He wasn't scrolling through his phone. He wasn't checking out women. He wasn't even pretending to be busy.
He was simply existing dangerous, unbothered, breathtaking.
Exactly my type.
My lips curled before I made the decision. My feet were already moving.
Confidence wasn't my problem tonight.
Pain wasn't either.
I needed something to overwrite the taste of betrayal in my mouth.
He was perfect for that.
I walked straight up to him, my heels clicking with purpose. He looked up at me the moment I reached his table as if he sensed me coming before he even saw me.
Those eyes met mine, and for the first time that day, my pulse skipped.
He didn't smile.
He didn't look surprised.
He simply held my stare and said, "You look like you know exactly what you want."
"I do," I replied.
His gaze dropped slowly to my lips, then back to my eyes. Not in a rude way. In a way that felt like a question.
I leaned one hand on the table. "And I think I found it."
His lips twitched, just slightly. "Is that so?"
"That's so," I said, inching closer. "What's your name?"
"You first."
"Leah."
He tasted the name in his mouth like a test. "Leah. Hm."
"And you?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head and scanned me in a way that somehow made my knees weak not because he was checking me out, but because it felt like he was trying to understand me.
Dangerous.
Focused.
Intentional.
"My name is Edward," he said.
Edward.
It fit him too well.
"How old are you, Edward?" I asked, because asking direct questions wasn't something I was afraid of tonight.
His brow lifted. "Old enough for you to be staring at me like that."
I bit back a smirk. "You noticed?"
"I'd have to be blind not to."
He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs just slightly confident, relaxed, like a man who knew exactly what effect he had on women.
"And what brings you over here?" he asked.
"You."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. "That's… straightforward."
"I'm not in the mood for games."
"Good," he murmured, eyes dropping to my mouth again. "Neither am I."
I should have sat down.
I should have asked him something normal, something sane.
But normal and sane died the moment Frank walked out of my life.
I reached out and traced the edge of his collar with my finger. His breath hitched a small sound, almost hidden, but I caught it.
"You don't seem surprised," I said.
"I'm surprised," he replied quietly, "just not in a bad way."
"Then tell me," I challenged, "what do you think I came over here for?"
He tapped the tip of his finger against the table slow, rhythmic, calculated.
"Judging by the look in your eyes," he said softly, "you're not here to talk."
I stepped even closer. "Talking isn't at the top of my list."
He looked me up and down slow enough to make warmth spread between my thighs.
"What is at the top?" he murmured.
I leaned down, close enough that my lips brushed his ear when I spoke.
"Getting you alone."
His breath sharpened.
His hand slid to the back of my chair, gripping it like he wanted to pull me into his lap right then and there.
"You don't waste time," he said.
"I don't have time to waste."
"Bad day?"
"Bad marriage."
He hummed, a low, understanding sound. "Divorced?"
"An hour ago."
His brows rose. "Congratulations?"
"Something like that."
He leaned closer just enough to make my heart pound. "You're dangerous."
"You have no idea."
He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek. The touch was light. Too light. It made me crave more.
"What happens now?" he asked, voice husky.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether you're coming with me."
His smile widened hot, wicked, absolutely devastating.
"I haven't even finished my drink."
"You can finish it at my place."
He stood up so smoothly it stole my breath. When he reached full height, I realized just how tall he was towering over me, radiating warmth, smelling like something that should've been illegal.
He leaned down, his lips inches from mine.
"Lead the way, Leah."
And in that moment, the guilt, the fear, the shame everything I had carried with me melted into the background.
Because right then, none of it mattered.
All that mattered was him.
Edward.
Dangerously handsome.
Confident.
Unapologetically tempting.
The man who would change everything.