Chapter 4

Rio

I hated bars.

Too many lights. Too many voices. Too many hands brushing against me like they had the right.

Yet somehow, this place had become a second home.

Because alcohol…It was the only thing that silenced the voices in my head.

I sat in the farthest booth, nursing a whiskey. The glass was cold in my hand, half empty, the amber liquid catching the dark purple low light as the bass thudded somewhere in the distance.

Every now and then, a woman passed by swaying their hips as they seemed for attention but I ignored. Tonight I had no intention of taking any woman with me.

Two women at the bar had been eyeing me since I walked in. One of them finally made her move, strutting over like she was on a runway, her perfume hitting me before her voice.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked, fake smile already in place.

I didn’t answer. Just gave her a blank stare, letting the silence do the talking. She hesitated, then rolled her eyes and walked off.

Good.

I needed air.

Grabbing my glass, I pushed through the crowd and stepped outside. It was cooler out here. Quiet. The city hummed in the background, but it was bearable.

I leaned against the stone railing and took a slow sip, eyes focused on nothing in particular. The drink did nothing. My thoughts, as always, drifted to the night that haunted me for years…the loud sound..smokes everywhere…blood…

Then I heard it.

A soft laugh.

A messy, bubbling sound that didn’t belong in the middle of the night.

I muttered a curse in Italian under my breath and turned toward the sound.

And then I saw her.

She was leaning against the far wall, heels dangling from one hand, a wine glass in the other. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed. Not from makeup. From wine.

She blinked, squinting at me. Then smiled.

My chest tightened.

“Wanna hear a secret?” She whispered, voice low and full of amusement.

I didn’t say anything. I just raised a brow.

She took a step closer, eyes still squinting like she was trying to focus. “I’m blind,” she giggled. “Well… not really. Just forgot my glasses. Everything’s kinda blurry right now.”

She squinted again, tilting her head like she was trying to make out my face. “You’ve got a jawline, I think. Or maybe it’s just the shadows.”

I couldn’t help it my lips twitched.

She was beautiful. That much I could tell. Even tipsy, even barefoot, with smudged mascara and sleepy eyes…she was stunning.

She sipped from her glass, then leaned a little too far and stumbled. I reached out on instinct, steadying her by the arm. Her skin was warm.

“Whoa,” she laughed. “You’re real. Good to know.”

“I’m very real,” I said quietly.

Her smile widened. “And Italian?”

I nodded once.

“Italians always turn me on… Shit, did I say that out loud?”

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, and then immediately burst into laughter.

God. That laugh.

It was unfiltered and unbothered, like she wasn’t embarrassed at all—just drunk enough to find herself funny. She leaned against the railing, shoulders shaking as she giggled into her palm.

I should’ve walked away. I always did.

But I didn’t.

We fell into a silence then. She stared at me, eyes soft, unfocused. “You’re quiet.”

“You’re drunk.”

She grinned. “Fair.”

Again the silence returned and like last time she broke it.

“It’s my 23rd birthday,” she said, beaming like she’d just won the lottery.

I took a sip of my drink not looking at her as I said “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” she replied dramatically, like I’d just made her day. “I was partying with my friends earlier, now they’re somewhere in there trying to summon Beyoncé on the dance floor. I needed a break before someone dragged me into a twerk battle.”

She peeked through the glass door, then turned back to me. “So, mysterious hot man, why are you hiding out here alone? Got dumped or something?”

I raised a brow. “I needed somewhere quiet.”

She snorted. “At a bar? That’s like looking for peace and quiet at a daycare.”

I didn’t bother replying, just took a sip from my glass.

There was a beat of silence. Then she wiggled her brows. “Wanna dance?”

“No.”

She gasped, pressing her hand to her heart like I’d stabbed her. “Damn. Cold. I just got rejected on my birthday. You must be fun at parties.”

She made a show of standing up and turning like she was about to leave. “Well, I guess I’ll go find someone less emotionally unavailable, maybe the DJ. He looks just like my type”.

I didn’t realize I’d moved until my fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding her back.

F**k.

What the hell was I doing?

Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at my hand. “Oh-ho! So he does want me to stay. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Mr. Broody?”

I let go of her hand as we walked together to an empty seat.

She leaned back in her chair, kicking off her heels under the table. “So, tell me about yourself, mystery man.”

I shook my head once. “I’d rather not share my personal life with someone I just met.”

She groaned dramatically, tossing her head back. “Ugh, you’re so boring. What are you, like, fifty?”

I raised a brow, amused. “Do I look fifty to you?”

She leaned forward, eyes squinting like she was trying to see through fog. “Honestly? I can’t even tell. You could be my long-lost sugar daddy or my hot neighbor. Everything’s blurry right now.”

I almost laughed but then she spoke again.

“Take a good look at me. Do I look like some serial killer who wants to steal your secrets?” She said with a grin.

And like a fool, I did.

She was beautiful. A mess of chocolate-brown hair framed her face, and freckles dotted her nose and cheeks like someone had kissed her with the sun.

That dress was trouble.

Sky-blue silk, thin straps barely hanging on, dipping low in the front like it had no intention of behaving. The soft fabric hugged her breasts so perfectly, it was almost scandalous. The way it framed them round, full, smooth like they were made to be admired. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. I could tell. The way the cool night air made her nipples subtly push against the fabric… fuck.

Her skin looked impossibly soft, glowing under the outdoor lights. There was a faint flush on her chest, maybe from the alcohol or maybe from how close we were now.

Then her voice cut through my thoughts.

“You’re checking out my boobs,” she said, her lips twitching like she was holding back a grin.

Sh*t.