chapter 1

Lexie clutched the shot glass like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Her fingers trembled, her nails digging into the wood of the bar as she downed another scotch. The burn that followed felt like punishment—and she welcomed it.

She could feel the stares. The bar wasn’t loud enough to drown out her sobs, and the crowd definitely wasn’t kind enough to mind their own business.

She muttered bitterly, voice slurred and raw, “What the hell are they looking at? Never seen a woman fall apart before?”

Her words came out louder than she meant. The bartender—young, probably a college student working night shifts—looked over with wide eyes.

“What?” she barked at him, defensive.

“Uh—ma’am, are you okay?”

Lexie laughed—a sound so hollow it echoed off the empty spaces inside her. “Do I look okay? My fiancé—scratch that, my cheating bastard of an ex-fiancé—knocked up my cousin and now they’re getting married. So no, sweetheart, I’m not okay. Now unless you have a time machine or a shotgun, leave me the hell alone.”

She tossed back the scotch in one gulp, the liquid searing down her throat like it was trying to cleanse the heartbreak from her body. It didn’t work. Nothing did.

She tapped her empty glass on the counter. “Another.”

As the bartender poured, Lexie muttered under her breath, “Rafael’s getting married. That lying son of a bitch is actually marrying her…”

She laughed, sharp and sarcastic, until it collapsed into quiet, ugly sobs.

They’d been together seven years. Two years of engagement. Two years of dreaming, planning, waiting for the perfect moment to get married. She’d trusted him. She loved him.

And he’d been sleeping with Amanda for an entire year. A year.

She found out the worst way possible—walking into Amanda’s apartment to drop off a dress and finding Rafael in her bed. Shirtless. Unapologetic. Amanda had even smiled.

Then today, like rubbing salt in the wound, Amanda proudly announced her pregnancy at brunch—Rafael standing beside her like some smug prize. And the final nail in the coffin?

They were getting married next month.

“One whole damn year…” Lexie whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. “God, I’m such a goddamn fool.”

“Get revenge.”

Her head snapped up. It was the bartender again, leaning casually on the counter like he’d just recommended a good movie.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “You want to feel better? Make them pay.”

Lexie scoffed. “You think revenge is a cure-all for betrayal?”

“It’s not a cure. But it’s a damn good coping mechanism.”

She stared at him for a moment, then let out a humorless laugh. “You’ve been watching too many soap operas.”

He poured her another shot. “I’m just saying… hurt ‘em where it counts.”

Lexie huffed, but her lips curled into a smirk despite herself. “That’s a dangerous idea.”

“Dangerous is sometimes exactly what you need.”

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned, but Lexie stayed. She was several drinks past her limit now—her vision blurred, her balance unsteady. The world felt like it was tilting.

And then, the air shifted.

She didn’t notice him at first. Just heard the murmurs and greetings.

“Ram Jordan.”

The name cut through the fog in her brain. Lexie looked up, slow and sluggish, eyes squinting at the man who had just walked in.

He was tall. Broad shoulders. A tailored suit that screamed money. His skin was a rich bronze, his features sharp—like they’d been carved with purpose. Everything about him was power and control. Dangerous in a way that made her want to run—and stay.

‘Holy hell… he’s hot.’

She blinked, shook her head.

No. No, no, no. I’m still crying over Rafael. I can’t be drooling over some Armani-wearing stranger.

But then, the bartender spoke again. “Glad to see you, Ram.”

Wait. Ram… Jordan?

Lexie froze, heart thudding against her ribs. Jordan.

That was Rafael’s last name.

She stared at the man again. Same jawline. Similar eyes. No way.

‘No way in hell… Is he related to Rafael?’

Ram noticed her gaze. His brow furrowed. “Can I help you?”

Lexie jumped. “Uh—n-no. Sorry. I just—thought you looked familiar.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve been staring at me for five minutes.”

“Well, forgive me for having eyes,” she snapped.

He crossed his arms. “You got something to say, or are you just going to keep gawking?”

Her lips moved faster than her brain. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Ram gave a half-scoff, half-laugh. “I’m rich, sweetheart. I buy my own drinks.”

Lexie’s drunk filter had officially died. “Wow. Modest, aren’t we?”

“Just honest.”

“You’re also a jerk.”

“And you’re a mess.”

She stood, wobbling slightly. “You don’t know me.”

“And you don’t know me,” he retorted.

“I know your type.”

“Oh really? Do tell.”

“You’re cold. Arrogant. Probably used to women falling all over you.”

“Is that what you were doing back there? Falling?”

Lexie threw him a death glare. “You are nothing like him…”

Ram blinked. “Like who?”

She muttered, “No one. Forget it.”

The bartender leaned in, whispered something to Ram. Ram’s gaze flicked back to her with mild amusement.

Lexie narrowed her eyes. “What did he say?”

Ram smirked. “Nothing important. Just that you’re having a rough night.”

Lexie started to walk away—until he called after her. “So your ex left you? That’s rough.”

She stopped. Her blood boiled.

Without a second thought, she picked up a half-full shot glass and hurled it at him. The amber liquid splashed across his chest.

Ram stepped back, furious. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You don’t get to mock me. You don’t even know me.”

“Well, judging by that little tantrum, I can see why your ex left.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Lexie’s heart shattered all over again. She grabbed another glass—empty this time—and threw it harder. It cracked against his forehead.

“You have no right to say that!” she screamed, voice breaking.

Everyone in the bar went silent.

She stood there, heaving, tears flowing freely now. “You don’t know what it feels like to be betrayed by the two people you trusted most.”

Ram rubbed his forehead, wincing. But then… he sighed and reached into his coat pocket. He handed her a neatly folded handkerchief.

“Here. Before people think I hit you or something. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Lexie stared at the handkerchief like it might bite her.

Ram added, quieter this time, “I was pissed. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Lexie sat back down, shaking, and mumbled, “I’m so stupid… They fooled me for a year.”

He didn’t reply. Just awkwardly patted her back and said, “Can I buy you a drink? Peace offering?”

She nodded, sniffled.

Ram returned a minute later with two glasses of top-shelf scotch.

“Here. I figured you could use something decent.”

Lexie accepted it without a word.

“I’m Ram, by the way. Ram Jordan.”

She froze.

Jordan.

Her throat went dry. “I’m… Lexie.”

He sipped his drink. “So, Lexie. What brings you to this sad little bar?”

She tried to force a casual smile. “Visiting. For… a wedding.”

Ram tilted his head. “Yeah? I’m in town for the same. My nephew’s getting married. Rafael Jordan. Know him?”

Lexie choked on her drink.

Oh my God. This man is Rafael’s uncle?!