The bass hit first.
It rattled through Tessa Smith's chest like a second heartbeat as she stumbled into the club, neon lights flashing overhead, bodies pressed together in a blur of heat and sweat. The smell of alcohol clung to the air—sharp, sweet, dangerous.
She went straight to the bar.
"Tequila," she said, slapping a bill on the counter. "The strongest you have."
The bartender raised a brow. "Rough night?"
She laughed, but it came out wrong. Too loud. Too sharp.
"You have no idea."
The glass slid toward her. She didn't sip. She threw it back, winced as it burned, then pushed the glass forward again.
"Another."
Someone beside her whistled. "Damn. You trying to die or forget?"
Tessa turned, swaying slightly, eyes glassy but defiant. Three guys stood nearby, already drunk, already entertained.
"Forget," she said. "Definitely forget."
One of them grinned. "Shots competition."
She squinted at him. "What?"
"Shots. Us versus you."
She laughed again, louder this time. "You'll lose."
That did it.
"Bartender!" one of them called. "Line them up!"
The glasses came fast. One. Two. Three.
"Go!" someone shouted.
Tessa took the first shot. Then the second. Cheers erupted around her.
"Again!"
She slammed the third back, her vision tilting, the room spinning just enough to make her laugh.
"That's it!" one of them said. "She's insane."
"Not done," she slurred, already reaching for the fourth.
Hands clapped. Someone hyped her up, chanting her name even though they didn't know it.
"You're winning!"
"She's winning!"
Tessa wasn't sure what she was winning—pride, maybe, or numbness—but she didn't stop. Each shot dulled the ache sitting heavy in her chest. The image of her father's stern face. The words You'll marry him. The life chosen for her.
She lifted another glass. "To freedom."
No one questioned it. They all drank.
By the time the competition ended, she wasn't sure who won. She only knew her legs felt light, her head heavy, and her heart strangely quiet.
She turned away from the bar—and that was when she saw him.
He stood a little apart from the chaos, leaning against a pillar, suit jacket discarded, white shirt open at the collar. Dark hair, slightly disheveled. Broad shoulders. Tall. Solid.
Watching.
Not cheering. Not laughing. Just… watching her.
Her breath caught.
She blinked, sure she was imagining it. But when she looked again, he was still there. His gaze met hers, steady and assessing, like he could see straight through the drunken haze.
She pointed at him. "You."
His brow lifted. "Me?"
"You didn't clap."
A slow smirk curved his lips. "Didn't feel necessary."
She staggered closer. "You think you're better than us?"
"Than you?" he asked lightly, eyes dropping briefly—too briefly—to the curve of her lips, the line of her neck.
"No."
She stopped in front of him, close enough to smell whiskey and something expensive. "Then why are you staring?"
He shrugged. "Curiosity."
"About?"
"You."
Her laugh was softer this time. Dangerous. "I'm not that interesting."
His gaze flicked over her, her loose hair, flushed cheeks, the way her dress clung to her curves. "I disagree."
She swayed, catching herself against his chest before she could fall. Solid. Warm. Firm and Muscular.
"Ouuu," she murmured, fingers curling into his shirt. "You're… built."
He chuckled under his breath.
"Careful, you might hurt yourself "
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head, lashes heavy, eyes dark and searching.
"You're afraid I'll break you?"she ran her hands down his arms
"Hardly."he stared at her, while protecting her from falling
She looked him up and down slowly, openly. Broad chest. Strong arms. The kind of body sculpted by discipline, not accident.
"You work out," she said.
"Sometimes."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You look like trouble."
"And you," he replied, gaze sharpening, "look like someone who knows exactly what she's doing."
She didn't correct him.
She smiled instead. "Buy me a drink."
He glanced at the bar. "You've had enough."
She pouted. "Scared?"
He held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. "One."
"Yehhhh"she threw her hands in the air in excitement
They stood at the bar, closer now, shoulders brushing.
" Your name?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Alex."
She grinned. "I'm—"
She paused, the name sticking in her throat. Names meant reality. She didn't want reality.
She shook her head. "Doesn't matter."
He watched her carefully. "You sure?"
"Tonight?" She met his eyes. "Yes."
Something shifted in his expression. Decision.
"You working?" he asked casually.
She frowned. "Working? Nahh…"
He nodded toward her dress. "I don't usually pick girls up at clubs."
Her laugh burst out, unfiltered as she bit her lips "You think I'm—?"
He shrugged. "You're flirting. You're drunk. You're very confident."
She stared at him, then laughed again. "You're unbelievable."
"Am I wrong?"
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Very."
But she didn't pull away.
He hesitated only a second before placing a hand at her lower back. Firm. Possessive.
"Come with me," he said.
"Where are you taking me?"she asked
"Trust me" he said staring deep into her eyes
She should have said no.
Instead, she nodded.
The car ride was a blur of city lights and laughter, her head resting against the window, his presence filling the space beside her.
"Where are we going?" she asked again
"My place."
She smiled lazily. "Of course it is."she dragged her words
The apartment was massive. Quiet. Expensive in a way that didn't need to announce itself.
She kicked off her shoes, wobbling slightly. "Wow."her eyes scanned the room
He watched her, eyes darkening as she turned back to him, hair falling loose around her shoulders, eyes bright and reckless.
"You're beautiful," he said before he could stop himself.
Her smile softened. "You think so?"
"I know so."
She reached for him.
The kiss wasn't gentle.
It was hungry. Messy. Her fingers slid into his hair as she pressed closer, gasping softly when his hands tightened at her waist.
"You're not like the others," he muttered against her lips as he forcefully pulled her clothes.
She didn't ask what he meant, she didn't care what he meant, she was done talking.
That night unfolded in fragments, laughter echoing down hallways, whispered challenges, the warmth of his body beneath her hands, the way he reacted to her like she was something rare.
For Alexander Reid, it was unlike anything he'd known. No pretense. No performance. Just heat, connection, and something dangerously close to intimacy.
For Tessa, it was escape.
The best night of his life.
The most reckless of hers.
Sunlight burned through her eyelids.
Tessa groaned as she held her head in pain, rolling over, she froze.
This wasn't her bed.
The sheets were too soft. The room was too big. The air smelled unfamiliar.
Her heart slammed as memories crashed back all at once.
The club. The drinks. The man.
Slowly, she sat up.
And that was when she realized,
She was in a stranger's house.
And she had no idea who he really was.