Chapter 3: A One-Night Escape

Sophia's POV

The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, but it’s nothing compared to the fire raging inside me. Betrayal, humiliation, anger—every emotion collides in a storm I can’t contain. I grip the glass tighter, my knuckles turning white, but no amount of alcohol can erase the image of Nathan and Chloe wrapped around each other. The weight of the night presses down on me, suffocating, until the man beside me speaks again.

"You look like you want to set something on fire."

I turn to him, finally giving him my full attention. The dim light of the bar casts sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw, the slight smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes, deep and unreadable, scan me with a curiosity that feels almost dangerous. He’s effortlessly handsome—too handsome. Broad shoulders, tailored suit, the kind of presence that demands attention. There’s something about him, an intensity that unsettles me, but I don’t look away.

"Maybe I do," I admit, swirling the whiskey in my glass.

He leans in slightly, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "Then why are you here drowning your sorrows when you could be out making them regret hurting you?"

His words strike something inside me, a challenge I wasn’t expecting. "Who says I’m not doing both?"

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Fair enough." He signals the bartender for another round, then turns back to me, his gaze steady. "Bad night?"

"The worst," I say without hesitation.

He studies me for a moment, then leans in closer. "You don’t look like the kind of woman who lets anyone get the best of her."

I scoff, shaking my head. "You don’t know me."

"Maybe not," he admits, his voice smooth, unbothered. "But I know that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it before."

Something about his words—his certainty—makes my pulse quicken. There’s an edge to him, a quiet dominance that pulls me in against my better judgment. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the pain, or maybe it’s just the overwhelming need to feel something other than this crushing betrayal. Either way, I don’t stop myself when I say, "And what do you think I need?"

His smirk deepens, his fingers grazing the rim of his own glass. "An escape."

The words linger between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I should say no. I should walk away. But I did not.

Instead, I hold his gaze and ask, "And what do you get out of it?"

He leans in just enough that I catch the faintest scent of his cologne—dark, expensive, intoxicating. "A beautiful woman who clearly needs a distraction? Sounds like a win for both of us."

A reckless part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Hours ago, I was a devoted wife, celebrating my anniversary. Now, I’m sitting in a dimly lit bar, contemplating spending the night with a complete stranger. But what’s stopping me? Nathan didn’t hesitate to betray me. Why should I hesitate to forget him, even for just one night?

I finish my drink, setting the glass down with deliberate finality. "Let’s go."

His eyes darken, something unreadable flickering across his face before he tosses back the rest of his whiskey. He stands, offering me his hand. I hesitate for only a second before slipping my fingers into his. His grip is firm, warm—steady in a way I didn’t know I needed.

The air outside is crisp, but I barely notice as he leads me toward a sleek black car parked near the curb. The city blurs around us, neon lights flashing in the distance, but my focus remains on the man beside me. He doesn’t ask me where I live. He doesn’t ask for my name. And I don’t ask for his.

The drive is silent, thick with anticipation. My heart pounds, every nerve in my body aware of his presence. When we arrive at a luxury hotel, he steps out first, handing his keys to the valet without a word. I follow him inside, my pulse quickening with every step.

The elevator ride is torturously slow, the tension between us growing with each passing second. He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t speak, but the weight of his gaze is enough to set my skin on fire. The moment we step into the suite, the air shifts.

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. "Are you sure?"

A part of me appreciates the question—the moment to reconsider. But I don’t need it. I know exactly what I’m doing.

Instead of answering, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips against his.

The kiss is slow at first, a testing of boundaries, but then his hands find my waist, pulling me closer, and all hesitation vanishes. The night becomes a blur of heat, of hands exploring, of whispered sighs and tangled sheets. For the first time in what feels like forever, I stop thinking. I stop hurting.

Here, in this moment, there is no betrayal. No Nathan. No Chloe. Just raw, unfiltered passion.

And it’s exactly what I need.

---

The first rays of morning light filter through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. My body is sore, my mind hazy, but for a brief, blissful moment, I feel weightless. Then reality crashes back in.

I sit up slowly, the sheets pooling around my waist. The space beside me is empty. No trace of him remains—not even a note. A bitter laugh escapes my lips. Of course. No names, no promises, no expectations. That was the unspoken rule of last night.

Still, a strange disappointment settles in my chest. I shake it off, reminding myself this was never meant to be anything more than an escape. Sliding out of bed, I gather my clothes, slipping back into the woman I was before last night. Strong. Untouchable.

But as I step out of the hotel room, a single thought lingers.

I’ll never see him again.

Or so I think.

To be continued...