CHAPTER 2: ONE NIGHT, NO NAMES, NO PROMISES

He studied me for several seconds, I began to regret speaking first. His grey eyes stayed on mine, steady enough to make me wonder if he could see the hurt I had tried to hide beneath my dress and lipstick.

"I noticed you when I walked in," I said. "You looked like you wanted everyone to leave you alone."

"And you decided to do the opposite."

"I am having a difficult night."

"That much I gathered."

"I should go," I said, though I did not move.

"You can."

The answer stung. For one foolish second I had expected him to ask me to stay. Perhaps I had mistaken his silence for interest. I reached for my purse, determined to leave before I embarrassed myself further.

Then he placed his glass on the bar.

"But if you stay, I want you to be certain," he said. "I am not interested in taking advantage of a woman who is trying to prove she does not care that she has been hurt."

My head snapped up. "You do not know anything about me."

"No. I do not."

"Then do not pretend you do."

He gave a small nod. "You are right."

"I am not asking you to save me," I said. "I just do not want to go home and think about tonight."

His gaze dropped to my fingers, which were trembling around the strap of my purse.

"Then no names, no promises," he said. "But one rule."

I folded my arms. "I thought there were no rules."

"If either of us wants to leave, we leave. No pressure. No explanations."

I searched his face for mockery and found none. "All right."

He held out his hand, then paused, leaving the decision to me. I placed my fingers in his. His hand was warm, his grip firm without being possessive. A small touch, nothing more, but my pulse reacted as if I had stepped too close to a flame.

"We should go," he said.

Outside, a black car waited at the curb. The driver opened the rear door and I slowed. Everything about the vehicle looked expensive, from the polished paint to the quiet man beside it. I suddenly felt aware of my simple dress and the tiny balance in my bank account.

He noticed my hesitation. "We can take a taxi."

"You would do that?"

"Of course."

"The taxi is fine," I said, relieved he had not made me explain.

My phone vibrated inside my purse. I knew it would be Daniel. I had ignored two calls already, but I checked anyway.

We need to talk. Do not make a scene over this.

A laugh escaped me, sharp and empty. He had betrayed me on my birthday and was still worried about how I might make him look.

"You do not have to prove anything to him tonight," the stranger said.

"I am not doing this for Daniel."

"Maybe not entirely."

I turned toward him. "You really enjoy guessing things about me."

"I am trying to understand whether you are here because you want to be."

"I want one night where I do not feel like the woman someone decided was not enough," I admitted. "I want to remember that I can still be wanted."

His expression changed, but he did not offer pity. "You were not the one who failed to keep a promise."

"You do not even know what he promised."

"No. But I know you should not have to beg someone to treat you with respect."

The taxi stopped outside a tall building overlooking the city. The stranger paid the driver, then waited until I stepped onto the pavement. He did not take my hand or guide me inside. He simply stood beside me, giving me another chance to change my mind.

"You can leave whenever you want," he said. "I will call you a car."

"Why are you making sure I know that?"

"Because you came here by choice. I want you to keep having one."

I looked up at the windows above us. "I have a job interview on Monday."

"Then tonight must matter to you."

"It does. I need the job."

"Why?"

"My mother needs an operation. Thirty thousand dollars."

"I am not asking you for money," I said quickly.

"I did not say you were," he said. "You have a lot on your shoulders."

"You do not have to tell me anything else," I said. "I meant what I said at the bar. One night. No names. No promises."

He looked directly into my eyes. "Are you choosing this because you want me, or because you want to stop hurting?"

I hated the question because I could not separate the two.

"Both," I said honestly. "But I still get to choose."

"Yes," he said. "You do."

My fingers brushed his jaw. He stayed still until I leaned closer, letting me set the pace. Our first kiss was gentle, almost cautious. His hand settled at my waist and he paused when I drew a breath.

I could have stepped away. Instead, I kissed him again.

This time he answered with a restraint that made my breath catch. When we parted, his forehead rested briefly against mine.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured.

"Do not stop," I whispered.

He kissed me once more, and for a few seconds the life waiting outside seemed far away. Then he drew back, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my courage falter.

"I need you to understand something," he said.

"What?"

"Tonight I will respect your choice," he said. "But I will not pretend I feel nothing just because we agreed not to exchange names. If you come upstairs with me tonight, I will still remember you tomorrow."

I should have walked away. Instead, I stepped into the elevator with a stranger whose warning sounded dangerously like a promise, and when the doors finally closed behind us, I stopped feeling completely invisible tonight.