Invited Trouble

Damien's POV

Bodies danced to the music blasting from the speakers while bartenders squeezed through the crowd, carrying trays of cocktails.

I leaned back against the sofa in the VIP lounge, resting one arm across the backrest as I watched the crowd below.

"Man, I'm hitting the dance floor. It's boring with you here," Damon slurred, snatching a bottle of whiskey from the table as he got to his feet.

I didn't bother looking at him. "Try not to start a fight. And don't make me search for you."

He laughed, staggering onto the dance floor, his long hair flowing behind him.

A bartender walked toward me, placing a bottle of wine on the table. He uncapped it and poured half of it into a glass.

"Everything alright, sir?"

I grabbed the glass and took a sip, giving him a slight nod.

My eyes drifted across the dance floor, searching for one particular face.

"Boss, she's here," Marco, the head of my security, muttered through the earpiece.

I chugged it all down, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue as my gaze landed on her, with her friend by her side.

She pushed through the crowd until they reached the bar, laughing at something her friend had said.

The bartender slid two cocktails across the counter. She grabbed one, quickly gulping it all down in one go, while her friend caught her hand, dragging her to the dance floor.

The flashing lights flickered over her face as she moved to the music, her long hair swaying around her shoulders before she finally stopped to catch her breath.

I chuckled and shook my head. What a terrible dancer.

A guy walked up to her, said something I couldn't hear, and held out his hand. She smiled politely and shook her head, turning back to the dance floor.

He gripped her waist, and she spun around, her hand shooting to his throat.

My fingers curled into a fist, ready to spring up.

He pushed her backward, almost raising his hands to her face.

The bastard had raised his hand on her. What an unfortunate bastard.

She shoved him back, yelling in his face while her friend pulled her back, pointing a finger at the guy.

Fortunately for him, he turned on his heel and stormed off. She wasn't mine yet. But that didn't give anyone the right to touch her, right?

I tilted my head toward Marco. Without a word, he nodded and strode into the crowd, trailing the guy.

They made their way through the crowd, heading toward the VIP section.

She fanned herself with one hand before pulling off the jacket she was wearing, holding it loosely in her arms.

Damn, those curves.

They stopped at the table beside mine and settled into their seats, talking between themselves while scanning the dance floor.

A few seconds later, her phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen and blew out a breath before answering.

"Hello?"

"I'm at the club, Zack." She pressed her phone close to her ear, half-yelling. "It's noisy here. Those security guards are incompetent. How did someone come into my house without them knowing?"

My brows creased. Where had I heard that name?

Zack, Zack... Oh, her secretary.

She ended the call with a scoff, murmuring incoherent words.

"The cleaning lady might have trashed it. Nothing to worry about," her friend mumbled, reaching for a cocktail.

She slapped her hand away before she could touch it. "You are drunk, Joan. Who's going to get us home?"

"We can book a cab."

She shook her head, her eyes darting around until they landed on me.

Her eyes widened.

I lifted the half-empty bottle of wine to my lips, watching her tap her friend under the table. She whispered something to her, and their eyes shot to me at the same time, meeting my gaze.

I bit back a smile the moment she rose to her feet, staggering a bit to my table.

Ignoring the empty seats around us, she slid into the chair across from me and tossed her phone onto the table.

"You came here alone?" she purred, crossing her arms.

Her breath reeked of alcohol. She was drunk.

My lips curved into a smile. "What do you think?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. Since no one's sitting with you, how about a dance?"

I let out a chuckle. "You're drunk, girl."

"You're obviously the drunk one here," she shot back. Her fingertips slid from my wrist, running up along my arm.

I arched a brow, following her fingers trailing along my arm.

"Wow." She smiled, squeezing my arm lightly. "So this is the hand you used to drag Jace away like you were snatching candy from a kid."

I pulled her hand away. "Don't touch me with that flirty ring on your finger."

She glanced at the ring glittering on her finger. "This?" Her brows drew together. "Do you have any idea how much this ring cost?"

"Aren't you married?" I asked, my voice flat. "Does your husband know you're here?"

"Husband?" She scoffed. "I don't have a husband." She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers. "This ring? I bought it myself, with my own fucking money."

My eyes dropped to the ring before returning to her face. "What about that guy? The one with your phone?"

Not like I didn't know. I just wanted to hear it directly from the horse's mouth.

"Not my boyfriend," she gritted through her teeth.

One corner of my mouth twitched. "Good to know. Now get lost."

"And why would I?" She leaned closer, flashing a smile.

"You're stirring up trouble." I tilted my head. "Leave, and I mean right now. Because if you don't..." My voice dropped to a whisper. "I won't be responsible for whatever happens next."

She pressed her lips together, eyeing me.

"You'll beg whatever god you're serving to free you from me." My fingers traced her jaw. "And me?" A chuckle escaped me. "I won't let you slip away from me."

"You talk too much."

Before I could process what was going on, her hands shot up to my collar, pulling me closer.

I dropped the bottle onto the table, realizing where this was going.

She cupped my chin, pressing her soft lips against mine.

For a second, my body got rigid.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she released my chin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You came for trouble?" My eyes darkened. "Then I'll give you trouble."

She went completely still as I closed the little distance between us.

The wine bottle on the table wobbled, and a bit of the drink spilled onto her dress.

She bite her lower lips not tearing her eyes away from mine.

My gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her face. She stumbled back a little.

I tilted her chin up to face me, and my mouth crashed against hers. Her lips parted. They tasted of the drink she'd had earlier, with a faint trace of vanilla.

Her phone vibrated between us.

I declined the call without pulling away from her.

I should have stopped this. I should have remembered she was drunk and not thinking straight.

Instead, I pulled her back into my arms, where she belonged.

Tomorrow, she'd wake up wishing this had never happened. Unfortunately for her, this had changed everything.

She had just undone years of discipline with a single reckless decision.