CHAPTER TWO

GABRIELLE’S POV

The man stood tall, his presence was dominating enough to make the bouncer’s grip loosen around my arm. And even though his voice was calm and low, it carried an air of authority.

“She’s with me,” he said, sliding a sleek black card across the counter. “Put her tab on that.”

The bartender blinked, then glanced at me, then back at him. “Sir, she’s—”

“I said she’s with me,” he repeated, his tone cold.

The bouncer stepped back. “Understood, sir.”

The man’s eyes finally met mine. They were a cold blue and his tailored black suit fit him perfectly. His tie was slightly loosened, his hair was dark and slicked back, a few strands falling over his forehead.

Everything about him screamed danger.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, but it wasn’t a request.

I should’ve told him to mind his business, but after everything that happened, I didn’t have the strength to argue. My head spun as I got off the stool, my veil slipping off my shoulder. He caught it midair without even looking.

I jumped as my body brushed his warmth on my way out but he didn’t seem affected. Outside, the night air hit me like ice. The faint hum of the city surrounded us.

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “Who the hell are you?”

He raised his eyes from his watch to my face, his expression bored. “A man who just saved you from making a viral scene.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved,” I shot back.

“You didn’t have to.” He tilted his head, studying me. “You’re standing in a wedding dress, alone, reeking of vodka and heartbreak. You needed someone to stop you before you did something stupid.”

“I already did something stupid,” I muttered, my throat tightening. “I got engaged to that bastard.”

He chuckled under his breath dryly. “Rough wedding day, then?”

I glared at him again. “I caught my fiancé screwing my twin sister in the shower. So no, it wasn’t just a rough day. It was the worse day of my life.”

His expression didn’t change much, but his eyes darkened slightly. “That’ll do it.”

I turned away, suddenly feeling the weight of everything I’d been holding in. “You can go now, mystery man. I’m not your problem.”

“You’re drunk,” he said simply.

“Yeah? So what?”

“So I’m not leaving you here.”

“Why?”

He paused for a few seconds like he was giving it a thought. “You’re right. Take care of yourself.”

Then he walked away.

I scoffed. “Such a weirdo.”

I searched my purse for my car keys and stepped in. I knew I was too drunk to drive but I didn’t care.

My fiancé and sister both betrayed me in one day. Turns out he only ever wanted me for my inheritance.

My eyes turn blurry with tears as I started the ignition.

I had shown Jared nothing but love and this was how he repaid me? And my own twin sister was working with him.

As I drove out of the parking space, my car bumped into something behind. I looked into the rear view mirror and saw it was a car I bumped into.

“Fuck,” I cursed and stepped out of the car.

The driver was already standing there and checking for damages.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, staggering. “I’ll pay for any damages.”

The driver turned when he heard my voice, his brows knitting immediately. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I slurred, waving him off. “I just—”

Before I could finish, the back door of the car opened. Out stepped him—the same man from the bar. His jacket was off now and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing his delicious looking veins.

Of course. Because my night couldn’t possibly get any worse. And here I was, a virgin, fantasizing about a stranger’s veined forearm, wondering where else was. Pain really changed people.

“You again,” I muttered under my breath.

He walked around the car slowly, his gaze sweeping over me before landing on the dented bumper. “You really shouldn’t be driving. You just messed up my car.”

I crossed my arms, wobbling slightly. “You said you were leaving, remember?”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw. “And you said you were fine. Clearly, we were both wrong.”

The driver glanced between us, unsure what to do. “Sir, there’s only minor damage. Should I call the police or—?”

“No,” the man said immediately. “Get back in the car.”

“But, sir—”

“I said get in.”

The driver hesitated, then obeyed, slipping back into the vehicle.

He stepped closer, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his clean, expensive, and dangerously intoxicating cologne.

“You could’ve killed yourself,” he said, his tone colder now.

“Maybe that would’ve saved me the embarrassment,” I muttered.

His jaw tightened. “It’s not you who should be embarrassed. The traitors should be.”

“Why do you care?” I snapped. “You don’t even know me.”

He studied me for a long moment before replying, “You’re right. But I know what it’s like to lose everything in a day.”

Something in his eyes made me pause. It wasn’t pity, it was pain. It was real, raw, and probably buried deep but I saw it.

Or maybe I was too drunk.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “You’re not driving anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not going with you,” I said stubbornly.

“Yes, you are.” He reached past me and pulled the car keys gently from my hand. “You can yell all you want in the morning, but for now, you’re coming with me.”

“I should call the police,” I said weakly, though even I didn’t sound convinced.

He arched a brow. “You’re drunk, in a torn wedding dress, and you just hit my car. Go ahead. Call them.”

I stared at him, speechless.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured, then gestured toward the passenger seat. “Come on, Gabrielle.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked, suspicion creeping in.

“I have said more words tonight than I have in the last week,” he said with that still cold voice. “I’m not telling. Let’s go.”

I stared back at him, feeling the impulsive urge to do something reckless. “On one condition.”

“What?”

I licked my parched lips. “Please, marry me.”