Chloe Bennett tasted betrayal on her tongue.
It wasn't the tequila. No.
It wasn't the burn of the liquor sliding down her throat. That would have been much easier to handle.
It was the sight of them—her sister, her ex—wrapped in each other's arms like she had never existed. She felt her chest tighten as she wallowed in self pity.
The club pulsed around her, but she didn't hear the music. All she heard was the echo of his words, the ones that shattered her into nothing. Stabbing her like a blunt pocket knife twisting deeper into her back.
"It was always her, Chloe." She had replayed those words over and over again, her mind desperately trying to find some loophole in their meaning.
Some ridiculous way to make them mean anything but what they did.
But no, the truth was there, raw and unyielding.
She should have known, the late-night calls he ignored, the way his gaze lingered a second too long whenever her sister entered the room. The tightness in his voice when he swore she was overthinking.
It's funny how she convinced herself she was crazy, how he made her feel crazy, how she told herself to stop reading between the lines. But now the truth was a slap to the face, so sharp it left her breathless.
How could she be so stupid! After all these years….This is what she gets?
Her fingers curled around her glass, nails biting into her palm. She buried her head in between her arms waiting for the alcohol to kick in.
As she sat she began to curse. "Screw love. Screw men."
Tonight, she was done feeling. Done with the humiliation. Done being the fool.
She just wanted to make it all go away, to forget this ever happened.
And then she saw him. Sitting alone is the dark corner of the club, his drink untouched in his hand.
He looked tall. Sharp-jawed. A presence that swallowed the space around him. His aura was intimidating, it was commanding.
A silent force that pulled people in, even as it warned them to stay away.
He wasn't like the men stumbling around the club, reeking of desperation and cheap cologne, hoping to have anyone they could pin down for the night.
No, he was different, composed. His suit was tailored to perfection, it screamed wealth, but it was the way he carried himself that made her breath stop. The man was controlled. Dangerous. The kind of danger that felt like a thrill. The kind of danger she thought she needed.
But what was someone like him looking for in a place like this?
Their eyes met from across the bar, his gaze - dark and unreadable holding hers.
There was no confusion in his eyes, no hesitation. He seemed like he knew exactly what she wanted. He looked at her like he already knew her kind. The broken girls. The ones running from something. Finding solace in a few drinks and cigarettes.
One look and Chloe knew—he was definitely a mistake. A beautiful, reckless, intoxicating mistake. He was a way out.
A smirk tugged at her lips as she tilted her head. A silent challenge. Giving him a go-ahead.
He didn't hesitate. Within seconds, he was in front of her, invading her space, his scent—clean, expensive, intoxicating—coiling around her like a slow burning ember.
Up close, he was even more striking.
The sharp angles of his face were cast in shadows under the dim lighting. Making him look even more attractive.
He leaned in even more slightly his love low and smooth. "You look like a woman who wants to forget," he murmured.
Chloe's smile didn't waver. "And you look like a man who doesn't ask questions."
The atmosphere around her darkened, his presence was alluring, gripping, chilling.
But Chloe wasn't afraid. She knew what she needed and he might just be it.
A flicker of something dangerous crossed his face. Approval. Amusement. Heat. Whatever it was Chloe was already immersed in it. Immersed him him. She watched him slowly.
He set his glass down. Leaning towards her, his scent filling up her senses -rich, spicy and laced with something undeniably attractive.
"Let's get out of here."
Her heart pounded, but it wasn't from fear.
It was from something else entirely.
Chloe gently let her glass on the counter.
She should say no but she didn't, instead she looked into his eyes, letting herself sink into his depth as she gave a gentle nod of approval.
No name. No second thoughts. No turning back.
Tonight, she wasn't the girl who got left behind.
Tonight, she was the girl who made the mistake first.
And in the morning, would she regret it?