4. Drunk beauty

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Jagger

After meeting up with my client here, I should have gone home, but there was something about this guy I couldn’t ignore. First, those silver-blue eyes… they hit differently. They weren’t just pretty—they held weights of real pain hiding behind a face that was too beautiful for this world.

We’ve been talking for hours. Okay, not really talking, he mostly just mumbles one or two words at a time, barely able to piece his story together. But the way his voice cracks sometimes… it says more than the words. And the more he speaks, the more it feels like his case is just the tip of the iceberg.

His arms were stretched across the counter, head buried between them like he was trying to disappear. That dark, messy hair of his just flopped forward. Dude looked completely done. Gone. He’s cried so much his eyes are red and swollen. Said a whole lot of nasty shit about his brother and wife, and I didn’t even blink because from the way he looked, I could already tell... he wasn’t just hurt, he was wrecked.

“Hey man... you need to go home,” I muttered, trying to pull him up from the counter. He blinked slowly and lifted his head.

“Hey Mr… I don’t want to see those bastards at my house…” His voice cracked, soft but bitter. “Oh but… I want my son…”

His head dropped again before I could respond.

And right then, my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out—Clara. Damn. We were supposed to meet at my place tonight, then head over to the family house for the weekend. She’d just returned from that never-ending tour with her girls, and honestly, I’ve been enjoying the break. No drama, no wedding planning, no pressure. But now she’s back, and so is everything that comes with her.

“Hey baby,” her voice chirped from the other end. “I’m at home now. Where are you? I can hear music in the background… Wait, are you still at the bar?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, hey… I had a meeting with a client. I’m just wrapping up and heading home now. How was your trip?”

I looked around. The bar was nearly empty, chairs flipped, lights dimming. I turned back to the guy beside me. His head was still on the counter. He’s not going anywhere like this. I doubt he can even stand properly. Did he drive here?

“Alright, I’ll be home in 30 minutes,” I added before she ended the call.

I pocketed my phone and patted down his pockets for a key. Bingo. Found one. It looked like a key fob for an SUV. Oh, so he’s rich-rich. I pulled him up again, draping his arm over my shoulder and guiding him out.

Dragging him across the parking lot wasn’t exactly fun. I swear I’ve never seen so many black SUVs in my life. Like, is there a dealership giving these things away for free?

I clicked the key, and a beep came from the far end. Of course. It had to be the one in the corner. I grunted and kept dragging until we got to it, then opened the passenger door and helped him in. My arms were sore as hell.

Now what? I couldn’t take him home, and I wasn’t about to bring a random drunk guy to my place, not with Clara waiting. A hotel it is.

I drove to the closest hotel around, parked, ran in to book a room, then rushed back to the car to drag him out again. God bless whoever invented elevators, because my legs were killing me.

We got to Room 506. I stared at the number before unlocking the door with the key card. As soon as it opened, I practically shoved him inside and dropped him onto the bed, straightening out his legs. He squinted, groaning a little.

He looked uncomfortable in that suit. I mean, it was a designer cut, but he looked stiff and miserable in it. Thank God he wasn’t wearing a tie. I pulled off the jacket and undid a few buttons on his shirt. The second I did, he let out this soft exhale like he could finally breathe.

“Hey… thank you, man,” he mumbled.

I looked down at him again. For the first time, I paid attention. The lighting in the room brought out every detail.

Full lips. Thick lashes. Defined brows. That same pale skin that made his eyes earlier stand out like they were glowing. It hit me all at once, if this guy wore a wig, he’d make a damn stunning woman.

The thought made me blink and shake my head. *Jagger Walker, what the actual hell are you thinking? I mean, what’s wrong with me? Why am I just standing here, staring?*

I bent a little, just to—look, I don’t know what the hell came over me. But his lips looked soft. Too soft. So I touched them with my thumb. Then, fuck it, I leaned down and gave him a quick peck.

It was soft as hell.

I did it again. And the third time… yeah, I deepened it a little. Just a little. That was when he flinched. But then... he kissed me back slowly, I could taste the alcohol in his mouth as much as I could taste mine...Dude could kiss. I’m not gonna lie, it felt good. Too good.

Then my phone rang.

Loud and sharp. It yanked me straight out of whatever daze I was in. I pulled away fast, and he just blinked up at me with wide eyes.

“I… uh… sorry…” I stammered. He closed his eyes and turned away like nothing happened.

I scrambled for my phone. It was Clara again. Shit.

I pressed the phone to my ear, mumbling something like “I’ll be there soon,” while my brain was just yelling what the fuck did I just do?

I started heading for the door, but paused halfway.

I didn’t want to leave. Not like this. I wanted to see him again. At least know he was okay when he sobered up. Maybe that kiss was just 'heat of the moment' stuff, but something about him had a grip on me.

I dug into my suit pocket for a pen, maybe paper—nope. But I did find my business card. Even better. I placed it carefully on the table and grabbed his phone from the bed, placing it on top of the card. Then I wrote in tiny letters:

'Call me if you need a lawyer.'

I walked out and hit redial on Clara’s number. “Hey babe, I’ll be there soon,” I said quickly.

Then I called my driver…he had to still be near the bar. I left my own damn car just to get this stranger home safely.

Yeah. I think I might be losing my mind.