CHAPTER 005

ANABEL’S POV

A man stood there holding a glass loosely in one hand, his expression calm but amused. Even through my blurry vision, I could tell he was attractive. Very attractive.

Tall, dark hair, sharp jawline.

The kind of face people noticed immediately.

I stared at him blankly for a moment before letting out a tired breath of amusement. “What?”

He nodded toward my untouched drink. “You’ve been staring at it for the last ten minutes like it personally offended you.”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Honestly, that surprised me more than him talking to me.

“Maybe it did,” I muttered.

“That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

He studied me briefly before asking, “Mind if I sit?”

Normally I would’ve refused instantly. Tonight, I just shrugged weakly. “Go ahead.”

He settled into the chair beside me and loosened the sleeve of his watch slightly, like he had suddenly decided to get comfortable.

“You always spend your nights looking this miserable in expensive places?” he asked casually.

I gave him a look. “Wow. You really know how to comfort people.”

The corner of his mouth lifted faintly and, annoyingly enough, the smile suited him far too well.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You look like you’re one inconvenience away from stabbing somebody with that straw.”

A quiet snort escaped me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“There we go,” he said lightly, tapping his fingers once against the glass in front of him. “That’s the first normal expression I’ve seen on your face since I walked over.”

I narrowed my eyes at him before taking another sip of my drink. “You’re very observant for somebody who walks around bothering strangers in bars.”

“Lounge,” he corrected calmly.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“This place is technically a lounge.”

For some reason, that made me laugh harder than it should’ve.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, briefly covering my face. “You’re one of those people.”

He tilted his head slightly. “One of what people?”

“The technically people.”

He shook his head, clearly entertained. “That sounded personal.”

“It is personal.”

Music drifted through the lounge while people continued chatting nearby. Glasses clinked occasionally in the background as waiters moved through the dim lighting carrying trays of drinks.

Quiet stretched between us for a moment, but strangely enough, it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it relaxed me.

And maybe that was why I kept talking.

Because the person sitting beside me didn’t make me feel invisible.

“What about you?” I asked eventually. “Do you normally approach emotionally unstable women at lounges?”

“Only on special occasions.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “Most people here are pretending to be important or pretending to be happy. You at least seem honest.”

Something about that made me unexpectedly quiet. Maybe because I hadn’t felt understood in a very long time.

I lowered my gaze to my drink again, watching the ice shift against the glass.

“My husband’s cheating on me.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

His expression shifted slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“He even forgot my birthday was today,” I said. “Actually no… I think forgetting would’ve hurt less.” A weak laugh escaped me as I stared at the melting ice in my glass. “He spent the entire day taking care of another woman instead.”

He looked at me for a moment. “Wow… that’s awful.”

I traced the straw through my drink absentmindedly before speaking again.

“You know the worst part?” I asked.

He leaned back in his chair slightly. “What’s the worst part?”

“I still love him.” I shook my head at myself with a quiet laugh. “Which is honestly embarrassing at this point.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about loving someone.”

“There is when they make you feel stupid for it.”

For the first time since he sat down, he didn’t immediately respond. Somehow, that felt better than fake comfort.

I took another sip from my drink before continuing, the alcohol loosening something in me.

“She’s staying in our house.”

I probably shouldn’t have been telling a complete stranger any of this. But maybe that was the point. He didn’t know me, and after tonight, I’d probably never see him again anyway.

His eyes widened. “The other woman?”

I nodded.

A humorless laugh escaped me again.

"She was wearing his hoodie this morning.” My fingers tightened around the glass. Saying it out loud brought the ache back immediately.

“He used to do small things for me too,” I murmured, tracing my finger absently around the rim of my glass. “Coffee in the mornings. Breakfast. He used to look at me like I was the only person in the room.” My throat tightened painfully as I looked down. "And now he barely looks at me at all.”

The stranger stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking carefully. "How long have you known?”

“A few days.”

“And he doesn’t know you know?”

I gave a faint shake of my head. "No.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Which somehow makes everything worse.”

A couple nearby burst into loud laughter before the sound faded back into the rest of the lounge noise around us.

“You know what’s funny?” I asked suddenly.

“What?”

“I almost stayed home tonight.” I let out another quiet laugh. “I was sitting in my room reading divorce papers on my birthday.”

“That sounds depressing.” He said.

“It was deeply depressing.”

That earned a real smile from him.

I found myself watching him longer than necessary afterward. He had nice eyes.

“What?” he asked after catching me staring.

The alcohol loosened my mouth before my brain could catch up. "You have nice lips.”

The words hung in the air for two full seconds before realization slammed into me.

“Oh my God, please forget I said that," I groaned, hiding my face instantly.

That made him laugh openly this time. A real laugh. Low and warm. "I’ll try." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m emotionally devastated,” I corrected, pointing at him seriously. “There’s a difference.”

“Right. My mistake.” He raised his hands in surrender, the smirk never leaving his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Only a little.”

“That’s rude.” I pouted.

Neither of us spoke for a moment afterward, but the silence still didn’t feel awkward. If anything, talking to him came far too naturally. And maybe that was dangerous.

“What’s your name?” I asked eventually.

For some reason, the corner of his mouth lifted again before he answered. “Dmitri.”

I repeated it quietly in my head.

Dmitri.

It didn’t suit him. Dmitri sounded like the name of a man capable of ruining lives, not someone sitting across from me with warm eyes and a calm voice.

“And you?” he asked, looking up at me.

“Anabel.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

Normally, a compliment like that would’ve made me uncomfortable coming from a stranger. Tonight, it just made me strangely emotional.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

The alcohol was hitting me harder now. Everything in my head felt warmer somehow. Somewhere during the conversation, Dmitri quietly took my almost empty glass away from me.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

I frowned immediately. “Wow. Controlling.”

Soft jazz continued drifting through the lounge while the lights around us blurred together in my vision. By the end of the night, my head felt unbearably heavy.

I barely remembered leaving the lounge. Barely remembered getting into a car.

Sometime afterward, I vaguely remembered giving Dmitri my address before correcting myself halfway through because suddenly the thought of going home felt unbearable.

I vaguely remembered warm hands helping me out of the car at some point. After that, everything blurred together.

When I woke up the next morning, my head was pounding painfully.

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut again before forcing them back open. Instantly, something felt wrong.

The bedroom around me was large and painfully luxurious.

I sat up too quickly and regretted it immediately when dizziness hit me hard. Panic made my gaze dart around the elegant room while dread settled heavily into my chest.

This wasn’t my room.

This wasn’t my house.

Fragments from last night flashed weakly through my mind, but nothing stayed long enough to fully make sense.

Then another realization hit me. I looked down at myself.

My clothes had been changed.

My breathing hitched painfully. Fear rushed through me so fast my hands started shaking.

What exactly happened last night?