Wicked Swipe

ISLA’S POV

This was the dumbest idea I’ve ever had.

I stared at the empty prosecco glass in front of me, pretending to be busy with my phone. In reality, I was just trying to distract myself from the embarrassment creeping up my cheeks.

Around me, London’s lights shimmered like a sea of stars. Couples laughed, flirted, and basked in the romance of this swanky rooftop restaurant.

I was alone. Waiting for Christian: my Tinder date. The one who was supposedly so hot he could make ovaries explode.

Such a people pleaser, Isla. Well done.

I tugged at my lavender blouse, suddenly feeling way overdressed for someone who couldn’t even bother to show up.

I wasn’t sure what p*ss*d me off more: the guy ghosting me, or my so-called friends who dared me into this mess.

They said it was just for fun, a silly little bet. Yeah, right? Now here I was, sitting alone, waiting for a guy more fictional than their fake-*ss smiles.

Maya—bless her, the only sane person in my life—had warned me from the start. “Isla, don’t trust dudes on Tinder, especially the hot ones. They’re either fake, fuckboys, or FBI.”

But I was stubborn. And too proud to look like a scared little girl, so I swiped right.

“Oh, God…” I muttered under my breath, glancing around nervously.

I sighed, checking the time for what felt like the hundredth time. Thirty-five minutes. No message, no call.

Enough was enough. I needed to leave before someone filmed me and turned my humiliation into a viral TikTok.

I grabbed my clutch, ready to bolt, when a deep voice stopped me.

“Isla?”

I turned and froze.

Oh, my god.

Standing in front of me was a man in a perfectly tailored black suit. Tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. Smoldering eyes. And a faint smile that was more dangerous than the liquor lingering on my lips.

Holy sh*t. Is he real?

“Isla, right?” he asked again, voice deep and husky, sending shivers across my skin.

I nodded because speaking felt far too risky at this point.

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down with effortless confidence.

I stared, still half in shock.

He couldn’t be Christian. No way. The Tinder Christian looked like some boy band magazine cover.

This man? Way more mature. Stronger. Sexier in a way that made me feel breathless just sitting across from him.

God help me, he was more attractive in one breath than every man I’ve ever dated combined.

He locked eyes with me, as if he could read every single thought racing through my mind.

“I’m Julian. Julian Wolfe,” he said, his voice low and smooth, echoing between the clink of wine glasses around us.

Just his name alone made my panties dangerously close to slipping off.

“Christian…?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Julian gave me a faint smile. Dear God, I felt that smile all the way between my thighs.

“No,” he said, his tone like a sly kiss behind the ear. “That’s the name my daughter came up with. A bad joke. Dumb teenage humor.”

His daughter. A joke. And then a fake Tinder account. It took me longer than it should have to piece it all together.

“So, this was a prank?” I asked, my voice raspier than I expected.

Julian nodded casually, like this was all just another Tuesday. “I overheard her stupid little plan and figured someone ought to show up and explain.”

I stared at him: partly in shock, partly because… wow. So I wasn’t just ghosted. I was the butt of a high school prank.

Perfect.

“I heard her talking about it. I thought it was a messed-up situation,” he continued. “And when you actually showed up, I decided I should come and apologize in person.”

I blinked at him, stunned. Then, without thinking, I raised my empty glass.

“Drink?” he offered.

“Vodka. Double,” I said.

He glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then waved over the waiter, ordering a double vodka for me and an espresso for himself.

“I need alcohol to process this reality,” I said quickly, cutting him off before he could comment. “This is a first, getting pranked through Tinder. And the mastermind are teenager?”

Julian chuckled softly, his laugh low and rich.

“Kids these days are creative. Unfortunately, they don’t always use that creativity wisely.”

I scoffed. “So you do realize how humiliated I am right now, right?”

He nodded, watching me in a way that made my skin heat up.

I took a moment to study him.

His fashion sense? Impeccable. A custom suit, Italian leather shoes, a classic wristwatch. And the way he carried himself… oh God. This man was not the type begging for right swipes on Tinder.

When the vodka arrived, I knocked back half the glass in one go, feeling it burn down my throat.

Julian let out a soft laugh. “Rough night?”

I snorted. “God, I feel like such an idiot. I actually believed the guy in the photo was real. I mean, who in their right mind thinks someone that hot is actually seeking love on Tinder?”

He chuckled again. “Well… not everything in that profile was a lie.”

I shot him a skeptical look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Julian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes fixed on me.

“Christian on Tinder? Technically, my daughter used my info. I’m an EMD. Just moved back from New York last year.”

I blinked. “So your kid used your identity as a template for some hot guy profile?”

Julian just nodded with a crooked smile.

“Brilliant. Now I’m not just embarrassed, I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to tell my friends.”

“Why not tell them you still met the guy?” he said softly, his voice dropping a full octave.

“And that the night turned out… nice.”

His tone was calm, but there was something behind his words that made my heart do a weird little skip.

A marvelous night?

My brain immediately sprinted toward the gutter. Not my fault. The man was way too much in all the best ways.

“If I’m gonna lie, I need to know a little more about you first,” I said, letting my fingers glide along the rim of my glass.

“Ask away.”

“Age?”

“Forty-two.”

“Single?”

“Divorced. One kid. And yes, still sane.”

I chuckled quietly. “Maybe too sane to be talking to someone like me.”

He gave me a sharp look. “Isla, you’re fascinating. Honest, funny, and just the right amount of savage.”

“Just the right amount?” I raised a brow. “My friends say I’m too blunt. Especially when I drink.”

“So, are you about to say something you’ll regret later?”

I let out a slow breath. “A friend once told me, even if your Tinder date sucks, at least you might get to experience some good d*ck.”

He choked on his drink.

“See?” I groaned, covering my face. “I seriously can’t keep my mouth shut.”

He was still coughing, laughing through it. “You’re brutally honest.”

“You mean way too much.”

Julian’s expression shifted, eyes locking onto mine. “If I asked you right now, would you sleep with me?”

I froze. My eyes went wide, mouth parted, but no sound came out.

He laughed, that rich kind of laugh. “Relax. I know that was out of line.”

“No, I just…” I rolled my eyes. “You say that way too smoothly.”

“I’m not here to hurt you. I know boundaries.”

Still, when he spoke, his eyes kept flicking down to my lips. And that look made my skin buzz hot and cold all at once.

“I don’t even know if you’re a good kisser,” I mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Wanna find out?”

I bit my lower lip. That’s when I realized my blouse had slipped a little too low. Strangely, I didn’t fix it.

Julian smiled. His gaze dropped briefly to my neckline, then came back up to meet my eyes.

That smile spelled trouble. It was the kind of trouble I desperately wanted.

I leaned in. So did he. The space between us was barely there now, and I could smell his cologne: dark, warm, masculine.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you want me to kiss you.”

I swallowed hard. “Kiss me.”

And when his lips finally touched mine, I was already too far gone to turn back.