Chapter two: The best mistake of my life.

I wasn’t going to waste my dress. I looked too damn good to cry alone in my crummy little apartment.

So I took the unopened bottle of wine from the restaurant and found myself in a run-down bar, the kind of place where people drank to forget how life gave them the middle finger. And I needed to forget.

The bartender eyed me like I had lost my mind when I set the bottle on the counter.

“Can you open this for me?” I asked.

He let out a short, unimpressed laugh. “Are you serious?”

I nodded.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Lady, this is a bar. We sell drinks here. You can’t just bring your own and expect service.”

Embarrassment burned my skin. I hadn’t thought about that.

“I—”

“Put it on my tab.”

The voice was smooth, deep, effortless. A quiet command that sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned.

Piercing gray eyes met mine, steady and unreadable.

Damn! I was a sucker for coloured eyes.

He smirked. I almost forgot I was meant to be heartbroken, I couldn't blame myself when he was sharp and refined in a tailored three-piece suit that did not belong in a place like this.

People moved for him. Women watched him. But his smirk was lazy, as if he knew he was bigger than everyone here, and that smirk was for me.

The bartender sighed again but took the bottle and uncorked it. “Whatever you say, boss.”

The man poured a glass and slid it toward me before pouring one for himself.

Then, he raised his glass, tilting his head slightly.

“What’s a pretty little lady doing here alone?”

I should have ignored him. Should have reminded myself why men like him who were dangerous, unreadable were the last thing I needed right now.

But when he smiled at me, all perfect and slow, my heart damn near stopped.

I lifted my glass. “Drinking.”

His smirk deepened. “Then let’s drink.”

And just like that, the night really began.

***

“Do you make it a habit of walking over to pretty ladies?”

“Only when she’s drop-dead gorgeous and looks like she needs a distraction,” he said smoothly, that lazy smirk playing on his lips.

I needed to act uninterested. That was the beginner’s lesson in keeping a man on his tippy toes.

So, I scoffed, barely sparing him a glance as I swirled the ice in my glass. “And you look like you have a habit of handing them out.”

“Guilty. But I only offer them to women who catch my attention.”

I finally turned my full attention to him, arching a brow. “And I caught your attention?”

“From the moment I walked in,” he admitted shamelessly, letting his gaze linger on my lips and then on the bare skin of my shoulder right before flicking back to my eyes.

The way he looked at me sent a sharp pulse of heat straight between my legs.

He looked like he wanted to fuck me dirty, and with my state of mind, I would let him do whatever he wanted to me.

“Now tell me, what’s a woman like you doing alone on a night like this?”

I exhaled sharply, debating whether I wanted to entertain this conversation.

But then, fuck it. What were the chances that a man this hot would be interested in a little girl like me? And I mean I couldn't even keep my boyfriend interested.

But then again, this stranger was very easy to talk to.

“It’s my birthday,” I said matter-of-factly.

His brows lifted slightly, and I noticed the flicker of pity in his expression. “And you’re spending it alone?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, I was supposed to spend it with my boyfriend. Untill he and my best friend decided fucking eachother after prom was more important than showing up”

I had just off-loaded my entire villain origin story on his man.

His expression darkened. “Your best friend?”

“Best girlfriend,” I corrected, downing the last of my drink. “So, yeah, happy birthday to me.”

He studied me for a long moment, and then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for my hand.

And then his soft, warm lips brushed over my knuckles.

The gesture was simple, but it was enough to send shivers rolling through me.

“I’m Ethan,” he said. No surname, no middle name. Just Ethan. It gave me boy-next-door vibes, made me feel comfortable.

“Sophia,” I replied.

“Sophia,” he murmured, tasting my name. “If I had you, I would never be stupid enough to want anyone else.”

Heat coiled low in my stomach, my face burning.

I should have laughed it off. Should have ignored the way my skin tingle under his touch. But the alcohol, the pain, and the undeniable pull between us made it impossible.

So, I let him stay.

And just like that, we talked.

And Ethan was something else. Funny and charming, it also didn't help that he was a looker, he made the pain a little more bearable.

He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip, his piercing gaze never leaving mine. Then, with a smirk playing on his lips, he tilted his head slightly.

“So, how many more drinks will it take before you let me take you home?”

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t need any more drinks for that.”

I didn’t even know why I said that. But I didn’t regret it.

His smirk deepened. “Good to know.”

His words felt like a challenge. What if he asked me to go home with him? It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a decision. I just knew I didn’t want the night with him to end.

I should have been offended, maybe even rolled my eyes and walked away. But instead, I found myself gripping my glass a little tighter, my pulse quickening. I wondered if he noticed.

His fingers traced the rim of his glass as he leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Then let me help you forget your douchebag boyfriend.”

Forget.

It was tempting. Too tempting.

I could let this man who was a ridiculously confident stranger that I was obviously attracted to distract me for a night.

Just one night where I wasn’t the girl who got betrayed, who felt small and replaceable.

I stared at him, my heart pounding, the club fading into background noise.

Then, slowly, I exhaled.

“Okay.”

His smirk turned wicked.

I was going to get fucked by this handsome stranger.

“Lead the way, Ethan.”

I was about to make the best mistake of my life, and I was not going to regret it.