Chapter 2: Mysterious Savior

Aria’s P.O.V

Everyone was looking at me.

At least, that’s what it felt like the moment I stepped into the bar on a Wednesday night—face layered with makeup, hair styled in a way I barely recognized, and a dress so short it made me painfully aware of every step I took.

The place was surprisingly crowded for the middle of the week. Colored lights spun across the ceiling while loud hip-hop music pulsed through the room, vibrating through the floor beneath my heels. On the dance floor, people moved like they didn’t have a care in the world.

I hesitated near the entrance, suddenly wondering why I had even come here.

Then someone bumped into me from behind, pushing past me in a hurry and sending me stumbling forward into the dance floor.

The girl who’d bumped me barely glanced back. She had long brunette hair and wore a glittering dress even shorter than mine. A group of girls at the center of the bar waved excitedly as she approached, immediately pulling her into their circle of laughter.

Right.

Because people usually came to places like this with friends. Not alone.

And yet there I was—plain old Aria—standing awkwardly in a crowded club with no one beside me.

The plan had sounded better in my head earlier that evening. Drink. Forget. Move on.

In reality, I felt like a misplaced extra in someone else’s movie.

Trying not to think about it too much, I made my way toward the bar and slid onto a stool at the very corner, far away from a group of boys who looked barely old enough to be inside.

“Hi there,” the bartender said as he approached. “What can I get you?”

“Something strong,” I muttered, then I hesitated. “But… sweet?”

The bartender chuckled, his sharp eyes clearly amused. “Not a regular, huh? What’s your tolerance level?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” I shrugged. “Probably a two.”

He grinned. “Got it. Strong and fruity for someone who probably can’t handle club soda.”

“Hey!” I protested weakly.

But he was already laughing as he began mixing something colorful behind the counter.

While he worked, we chatted easily. His name was Amelio. He had a five-year-old daughter who hated preschool but went anyway because a boy in her class always shared his candy. He also loved his wife very much—a fact he emphasized loudly when a group of girls down the bar started giving him flirtatious looks.

Apparently his wife was a cop…a fact that made the girls look away faster than a whiplash.

The drink he finally placed in front of me looked almost too pretty to touch—deep red at the bottom fading into orange at the top, with a twist of citrus on the rim.

I took a cautious sip…and blinked.

It was delicious. Sweet, sharp, and smooth all at once.

“How is it?” Amelio asked expectantly.

“Perfect,” I said immediately. “I love it.”

“I’ll start a tab.” He gave me a satisfied nod before heading off to help other customers.

I stayed where I was, slowly sipping the drink while watching the crowd.

The music shifted to something heavier—rock, maybe—but I couldn’t tell for sure. Music had never been my thing. Still, the beat was catchy enough that my shoulders began moving slightly with the rhythm.

For a few minutes, I almost managed to forget.

Almost.

Then the memories from earlier that afternoon started creeping back in—the sounds, the voices, the betrayal waiting behind a closed bedroom door.

My stomach twisted.

No! I wasn’t doing that tonight.

Before the thoughts could drag me under again, I tipped my head back and finished the drink in one long swallow.

The sweetness burned on the way down, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Can I get a whiskey?” I asked when Amelio passed by again.

He frowned slightly. “You sure?”

“I’ll be fine.”

After all, wasn’t getting drunk the entire point of tonight?

Revenge had sounded appealing when I first left the house. But the moment I walked into the bar, I knew I didn’t have the nerve to follow through with that kind of plan. So getting wasted it was.

At least it was something new.

Amelio handed me the glass, still looking mildly concerned. I thanked him and cleared my tab, clutching the drink like a source of courage as I stepped onto the dance floor.

People swayed around me beneath flashing lights. I spotted the same brunette girl from earlier dancing with her group of friends, laughing freely.

I tried to copy the movement around me, swaying awkwardly while taking small sips of whiskey.

That’s when I noticed them.

Three men.

They appeared around me so suddenly I didn’t even see them approach.

“Hey,” one of them said with a grin as he stepped closer. “Mind if we join you?”

He was big, broad-shouldered, with a dark goatee and a dark blue shirt stretched tight across his chest. But it wasn’t his appearance that bothered me.

It was the way his eyes crawled over my body.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, stepping backward. “I’d rather be alone.”

Before I could move any farther, I bumped into someone behind me. Hands landed on my waist instantly.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” a voice whispered near my ear, thick with alcohol. “The night’s just getting started.”

He shoved me forward slightly, keeping his hands on my waist as his body pressed against mine.

Suddenly I was trapped.

The man behind me. The one with the goatee in front. And a third man standing to the side, watching me with dark eyes that made my skin crawl.

Fear froze me in place.

My heart slammed against my ribs as the man behind me began grinding against my back, his hands sliding down to my hips. The proof of his arousal rubbed against by lower back and I almost threw up.

My mind screamed at me to move.

Run. Do something.

But my body refused to cooperate.

“Don’t just stand there,” one of them laughed. “Or do you want to go to a room already?”

“Yeah,” the goatee guy added with a smirk as he leaned closer. “You look pretty eager.”

That snapped something inside me. Adrenaline flooded my veins in a moment of courage.

“Move,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Get away from me.”

They laughed.

“What was that?” one of them mocked. “You want us closer?”

Before I could second-guess myself, I lifted my glass and dumped the whiskey straight onto the goatee guy’s face.

At the same time, I slammed my heel down onto the foot of the man behind me. He howled in pain and released me.

“You—!”

“You fucking bitch!” The goatee guy raised his hand, ready to strike.

“What’s going on here?”

The deep, commanding voice cut through the music like a blade. The men froze.

Someone shoved one of them aside, and suddenly a hand grabbed mine—pulling me firmly behind them. My empty glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.

I looked up instinctively. The man standing in front of me was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating quiet authority.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to.

“This is the third time this month you’ve caused trouble in my club,” he said calmly to the three men. “I think it’s time you found somewhere else to entertain yourselves.”

“Hey!” one of them snapped. “We’re VIPs! You can’t kick us out!”

“I can,” the man replied coolly. “And I just did.”

Three large men, in black suits, appeared almost instantly behind the troublemakers.

Within seconds, the men were being dragged toward the exit, shouting curses and threats that no one in the club seemed to notice.

The music kept playing and the crowd kept dancing like nothing had happened at all.

But that’s when the man slowly turned to face me. And the moment our eyes met—my breath caught in my throat.

Because the stranger who had just saved me didn’t just look powerful. He looked dangerous.

The kind of man people obeyed without question.

And I had just stepped into his world…