Chapter 1: The Night It All Began

[Ciara's Pov]

My name is Clara Baxter, and this is the story of how I met the one person who would turn my world upside down. It all began on the night my best friend, Julia, forced me to follow her to the club. She had just caught her boyfriend of four years cheating, and all she wanted was to drown her sorrow in alcohol.

I was the perfect person to be with her at the club. Now, we were seated at the bar in the wildest nightclubs in California, and all I could think about was how the bass from the speakers pounded through my chest.

The music thumped so hard it felt like it was knocking the breath out of my lungs. Bright lights flashed in wild, dizzying patterns as Julia brought her glass to her lips.

"Ryan is such an idiot for cheating on me!" She yelled, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Her voice cracked, yet she forced herself to smile.

“Totally!” I yelled back, though my heart ached for her. Her eyes were red, her makeup smudged. She looked like she was trying too hard to convince herself she was fine.

She emptied the drink in her glass and grinned at me again. “More shots!”

I blinked at her. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough? You're getting drunk, Julia!"

She rolled her eyes. “Enough? No such thing tonight!” Then, she slammed her empty glass on the bar, already flagging the bartender down. I sighed, finishing my own drink. 

The burn of the alcohol dulled the edges of my nerves, and the heavy bass of the music in the room felt like it was carrying me now. If this was what Julia needed to feel better, I’d stay right by her side. Soon, she grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the dance floor before I could protest. “Come on, Ciara! Let’s forget everything!”

We pushed our way into the crowd and started dancing. Julia moved like she was trying to escape herself. I tried to mimic her dancing moves as I watched her thrash her arms and shake her hips.

Then, I felt it. There was a strange prickling sensation at the back of my neck. It felt like someone was watching me.

I stood still for a moment as I scanned the room. Something felt off. At first, I did not notice anything unusual, just a bunch of people dancing, laughing, and drinking, but then my gaze fell upon him. He was in the corner, leaning against the wall like he didn’t belong here. A dark suit hugged his tall, lean frame, the crispness of it out of place in the chaos of the club. My breath caught as I blinked at him. 

“Ciara!” Julia yelled, spinning me around. “You’re zoning out! Come on, have fun!"

“Sorry,” I mumbled, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. My attention drifted back to the corner again, and he was still there. Still staring at me. A small knot formed in my stomach and my pulse quickened.

 Who the hell was that? Was he just some creep? Or was there something else about him—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on? I tried to ignore him, instead focusing on Julia, who was now dancing with a man who appeared out of nowhere. Minutes later, I jerked backwards and glanced back at the corner.

Shit! He was still there, watching me without blinking. I turned to face Julia again—to tell her what was going on, but she was rocking her butt against the crotch of the man behind her, screaming the lyrics of the song in the background at the top of her voice. She seemed happy, or at least distracted, and that gave me an excuse to slip away. Before I could stop myself back, I left Julia and began to weave through the crowd as my attention remained pinned on the man who was still at the corner, watching me. 

Something inside me sparked. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he already knew me. Either way, I felt bold. I made my way across the room, weaving through the crowd until I was standing a few feet away from him.

“Hey! Do you always stare at people like that?” I asked him, crossing my arms.

Up close, he was even more intimidating. He was tall and his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly. I noticed how slicked back his dark hair was, not a strand out of place. And those eyes—damn it! They were even more piercing than I’d realized. They were pale, icy blue, pinned on me like I was the only thing in the room.

"Hello?" I called out to him again with a raised voice. His lips twitched but he didn't say a word. 

“Not a talker, huh? That's cool,” I said, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped under his gaze. “Look, if you’re going to stare, at least tell me your name.”

Still nothing. His gaze dipped briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes. A chill ran through me. I know, I should’ve walked away. But there was something about him—something magnetic.

The heat between us felt electric, and I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or him making my head spin. 

“Okay,” I said, taking a step closer. “How about a dance? Or is that beneath you, Mr. Mysterious?”

To my surprise, he extended a hand. I hesitated for half a second before placing my hand in his. His grip was firm, and his palm was cool against mine as he led me to the edge of the dance floor. 

The music slowed, and so did we. I swayed to the beat, acutely aware of how close we were. He didn’t dance like the other guys in the club—no awkward shuffling or overconfident moves. He was smooth, controlled, and before I knew what was happening, his hands settled lightly on my waist as we swayed.

I looked up at him as my heart pounded. “Still not going to tell me your name?”

His lips curved into a faint smile. Yet, he remained silent. I tilted my head as I studied him. He had a tattoo which ran from the left side of his neck and disappeared into his shirt. He also had a small, diamond nose ring that shone under the club lights. 

I frowned, "You know, it’s kind of rude to ignore someone when they’re trying to make conversation.

He didn't say a word. Rather, he spun me around before wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. My mouth turned dry as I felt the heat of his warm breath on my face.  

"You're mysterious. I like that." I muttered. 

He leaned in slightly, next to my ear. “And you’re persistent. I like that,” he said with a voice that was so low and smooth, with just the faintest trace of an accent I couldn’t place.

My mouth dropped open, caught off guard by the sound of his voice. "See? That wasn’t so hard,” I said, forcing myself to sound braver than I felt. “What’s your name?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes dropped to my lips instead. Before I could press him further, he kissed me. I stopped breathing as I felt his lips crash against mine. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was deep, consuming, and it stole the breath right out of my lungs.

My hands moved instinctively to his chest and I gripped the fabric of his suit. I didn’t care that I didn’t know his name. I didn’t care about anything but the way his lips felt on mine, the way his hands pressed me closer. When we finally broke apart, I was panting. 

“Who are you?” I whispered. 

“Let’s go,” he murmured with a voice that was low and rough, barely audible over the music.

"Go? To where?" I asked, confused. He didn't say anything in response. Instead, he took my hand again, leading me toward a set of stairs at the back of the club.

And like an idiot, I followed him.