Chapter 1

Isabelle's POV 

“Isabelle, please stop crying over him. He doesn't deserve your tears.”

Tessa's voice was gentle, but I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I sat with my head lowered, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand while trying to catch my breath.

“Three years, Tessa,” I whispered. “Three whole years, and he was cheating on me like I meant nothing.”

Tessa pulled me into a hug. “I know, babe. I know. But you can't keep hurting yourself over someone who didn't value you.”

I clutched the half-empty glass of vodka that Tessa had shoved into my hand an hour ago.

My eyes burned. I blinked hard, but a fresh tear slipped down my cheek anyway. Lucas’s last words kept looping in my head—I need space, you’re too much right now.

Tessa squeezed my arm. “Hey, stop it.” Her voice cut through the music.“He doesn’t deserve a single one of those tears, Izzy. Not one.”

I sniffed and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I know…I know. But it still hurts.”

“Of course it does. You loved the idiot.” She rolled her eyes and tugged me closer. “But he’s gone. And we are not spending friday night crying in a club that costs forty dollars a cocktail. Girlll…drink, dance. Forget him for one night.”

I forced a watery smile. Tessa’s dark curls bounced as she nodded toward the dance floor like she owned it. She looked fierce in her tight red dress, her eyes sparkling.

“Fine,” I muttered. “One night.”

She clinked her glass against mine. “That’s my girl.”

We drank. The first cocktail burned. The second went down smoother. By the third, the sharp edges of Lucas’s face started to blur. 

Tessa spun me onto the dance floor, laughing when I stumbled. The music was louder here, bodies moving in a sweaty, glittering mass. I let the rhythm pull me, hips swaying, arms lifted, trying to become someone who didn’t care.

At some point Tessa’s phone lit up. She checked it and grinned,“There’s a guy from work at the bar. I'll be back in five minutes, I swear!”, she shouted at the top of her voice.

Before I could protest she was gone, swallowed by the crowd. I kept dancing alone, the alcohol humming warm in my veins. My feet felt lighter. I closed my eyes and spun, hair whipping across my face, until the room tilted.

I stepped backward and mistakenly stepped on someone's feet.

I stumbled into a tall stranger, my drowsy mind barely realizing I'd bumped into someone. “Watch where you're going,” he said coldly.

I looked up, irritated. “Maybe try moving out of the way.”

His eyes narrowed, but then his lips curved slightly. “You've got quite a mouth on you.”

“And you've got quite an attitude,” I replied. 

“You look drunk”, he mocked me and signals the bartender for a shot of alcohol. I felt insulted by his statement and barked at him angrily.

“Don’t you dare call me drunk”. I continued drinking while looking at him. 

“Shut the fuck up!!”, he shouts at me in annoyance. His tone and authority makes me quiver in fear. He took a few steps away from me before I could see him clearly. He was tall—taller than anyone else near me and broad-shouldered.

Dark hair fell slightly over his forehead. His eyes were grey, cold and sharp as winter glass, fixed on me with pure irritation. My mouth went dry.

“Who do you think you are, my ex boyfriend is more handsome than you” I managed. The word came out softer than I meant. He looked down at his expensive shoe, then back at me.

 One dark brow arched. “I don't care about your ex, I can get any woman I want with just my looks”. Heat flooded my cheeks. I should have stepped away. Instead I stayed rooted, staring. 

“You think I'm one of them?”, I asked, lifting my chin, alcohol giving me courage I didn’t usually have. “You think I'm one of those cheap sluts?”. His mouth curved and stepped closer. 

The scent of him—clean, expensive, faintly woodsy, cut through the club’s mix of perfume and sweat. “Who knows…”

 I shot back.

For a second the music seemed to fade. His gaze dropped to my lips, then slowly traveled back up. Something darker flickered behind those grey eyes.

“Name,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

“Your name.”

“Isabelle.” The word left me before I could think better of it.

He repeated it once, low, like he was testing the sound. Then he leaned in just enough that his breath brushed my ear. “Dance with me, Isabelle and we'll see if you'll fall for me or not”.

I should have said no. I should have gone looking for Tessa. Instead my body moved toward him like it had already decided. His hand settled on my waist, pulling me against the hard line of his chest. 

He didn’t ask permission when he lowered his head. The kiss was sudden, hungry, tasting of whiskey. My hands fisted in his shirt. The breakup and family issues waited for me, all of it melted under the heat of his mouth.

I don’t remember leaving.

I only remember the cool night air, the leather seat of a black car, the elevator, and then a hotel suite that looked like it cost more than my rent for a year. His hands were everywhere, unzipping my dress, tracing my spine, lifting me onto the massive bed like I weighed nothing. 

I gasped his name without knowing it, lost in the way he touched me, like he already owned every reaction I gave him.

Afterward I fell asleep tangled in soft sheets Sunlight stabbed through the curtains and landed straight on my face.

I groaned and rolled over, expecting to hug my younger sister who slept beside me. Instead my hand met a cool, empty space.

 My eyes snapped open.

This was not my bedroom. My dress was a crumpled heap on the carpet. My shoes were nowhere in sight.

Memories slammed into me in jagged pieces. Grey eyes, the heat of his mouth, the way he had looked at me with lust.

Oh God.

I sat up too fast. The room spun. My head throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I clutched the sheet to my chest and stared at the empty side of the bed. 

No note, no phone number. Just a neat stack of cash resting on the pillow where his head should have been. More than I made in a week of double shifts. 

My stomach twisted, all I wanted was to forget about Lucas.

I stared at the money beside the bed, humiliation settling in my chest. Had last night meant so little to him that he could leave without a word and throw money at me like I was some stranger he'd hired for the night?