“You’re not going on any more hook-up dates.”

ARIA

It was late. The club lights pulsed like electric veins through the dark, the music rattled the walls, and my head was buzzing from the neon haze and too many shots.

I could still see Lucien’s face in my mind, tight with fury, from just minutes ago—because I’d swiped right on Adrian Shaw, right in front of him. His expression had darkened so hard it was almost satisfying.

But now I was determined to leave that behind and have my own damn fun.

I kept walking through the crowd, the sticky floor under my boots, and scrolled on my phone, ignoring the heat rising on my cheeks from all the drama.

Suddenly—my phone was yanked right out of my hand.

“What the actual fuck—”

I spun around so hard I nearly lost my balance. Lucien Moretti was right there. Tall, perfect suit rumpled from tension, dark eyes lit with that same cold, infuriating command.

“What the hell, Lucien?” I snapped.

He didn’t even blink. “You’re not going on any more hook-up dates.”

His voice was ice.

I laughed—a short, sharp sound. “Shut up and give me my damn phone.”

He stepped back, holding it away from me. “No.”

I planted my hands on my hips, my nails digging into my waist. “And who the fuck are you to tell me what I’m allowed to do?”

He smirked, infuriatingly calm. “Give it up, Riley. You’re not doing it.”

I lunged for it. He sidestepped, and I nearly stumbled right into the bar.

Except someone caught me.

Strong hands. Warm. I blinked up into an unfamiliar face.

He was tall, dark-skinned, with a charming crooked grin. Beautiful. Dangerous in a way that was almost comforting.

“Shit—sorry,” I muttered, licking my lips.

He laughed softly. “It’s okay. Are you alright? Can I buy a drink for this gorgeous lady?”

My heart rate slowed just a little. God. He was actually sweet. And the way he was looking at me, like I was the only one here...

I felt Lucien’s stare burning into my back.

Before I could even answer, I heard a growl behind me.

“No.”

That voice. That possessive, controlling, utterly annoying voice.

We both turned.

Lucien was glowering.

“You can’t buy her a drink,” he said flatly.

The stranger arched a brow at me. “Your boyfriend?”

I let out a breath like steam. “No one,” I snapped before Lucien could speak. “He’s no one. Ignore him.”

Lucien's jaw tightened.

I used his moment of surprise to snatch my phone from his grip. The surge of triumph was petty, but it felt so damn good.

I turned back to the stranger with a sugary smile.

“So—you were saying something about drinks?”

His grin widened. He pressed a hand to his chest and dipped his head. “Yeah. May I?”

I gave him my best fake-flirty sigh. “Of course. Why not.”

He laughed and offered his hand. “I’m Cole.”

I smiled. “Riley.”

Cole’s eyes lit up. Lucien made a noise behind us—like he was going to explode.

“What the actual fuck,” he growled.

I ignored him and started walking with Cole.

Except Lucien’s hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me to a stop.

My head whipped around, eyes blazing. “Let. Me. Go.”

Cole stepped forward, brows drawn. “Dude—what is your problem?”

I took a deep breath, shoving Lucien’s chest with my free hand. “It’s fine, Cole. Go ahead. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said GO.”

Cole hesitated, worry in his eyes. I turned my glare on Lucien.

“Lucien. Let me the fuck go before I scream.”

He didn’t move at first, his fingers flexing around my wrist like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to break me or break the world around us.

Then he dropped my arm.

I snatched it back and rubbed at the red mark.

We were standing just outside the main club floor now, near the doors, neon glow painting everything.

I seethed.

“What is your fucking problem?” I hissed. “Didn’t I tell you I’d meet you tomorrow to talk business? I don’t work at night. You want a deal? You can fucking wait.”

He didn’t speak, just stared, eyes hard as flint.

I raged at him. “You think you can grab me, tell me what to do? You think you can just control me because you’re Lucien Moretti? Newsflash—I don’t belong to you!”

He leaned in. Too close. His eyes burned into mine.

“You really don’t know what it means to cross me, do you?”

His voice was low, dangerous.

My heart jumped, but I didn’t flinch. I planted both hands on his chest and shoved him back.

“Yeah? And you don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with either,” I spat. “I said I’d do your fucking job tomorrow. I’ll get your stolen design back. So back the hell off.”

He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling, but he didn’t say a word.

I glared at him, pushing closer, crowding him until he was the one taking a step back.

He hit the car behind him.

Good.

I dropped my voice to a hiss. “You want to know who I am? What I can do? Best you don’t. Just pay me for the job and get the fuck out of my life.”

I gave his chest one last insulting pat.

Then I turned on my heel and walked back into the club.

I didn’t look back.

But I could feel his stare burning into me the whole time.

---

Inside, I spotted Cole almost immediately. He had two drinks in hand, scanning the crowd for me.

When he saw me, he smiled and waved me over.

I was shaking a little—from anger, from adrenaline, from something like fear but not quite.

I grabbed the drink from him without a word and knocked it back in one gulp.

“Whoa,” he laughed, eyes wide. “Everything okay?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shrugged. “Fine. Cigarette?”

He blinked, then nodded, digging one out and lighting it for me.

I inhaled deeply, the smoke burning my lungs, calming me.

Cole was watching me warily.

“Come here,” I ordered, my voice rough.

He looked confused. “Me?”

I rolled my eyes. “No shit. Get over here.”

He obeyed, stepping closer. I hooked a hand around his neck and dragged his face to mine.

“Kiss me,” I demanded.

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

My nostrils flared. “You think I’m fucking around?”

“Okay, okay.”

He leaned in—and then everything exploded into chaos.

Shots rang out.

People screamed.

The entire club erupted in panic.

Cole and I were shoved apart by the surge of bodies trying to get out.

“What the hell—” I swore, grabbing for him.

He caught my hand. “We need to go!”

“Yeah—no shit!”

We stumbled out with the crush of people.

Outside, the cold hit me in the face. I yanked my hand from his.

He stared at me, worry all over his face.

“Riley—you okay? We need somewhere safe—”

“Go,” I snapped.

“What?”

“Just go. I’m fine. Leave.”

He stared at me like I was insane.

I sucked in a drag of the cigarette, flicked the ash away, and turned on my heel.

“Riley—”

“Get lost.”

He didn’t follow.

I made my way to my black bike, swung a leg over, helmet in hand. My fingers were still shaking as I strapped it on.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t see Lucien.

But I could feel him.

I could feel that bastard’s presence in my head, taunting me with the fact he’d ruined everything.

My night was supposed to be mine. My rules. My body. My freedom.

He’d ripped it away with his possessive bullshit.

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

He thought he could command me? Control me?

I’d do his fucking job, sure. I’d get him what he wanted.

But I wouldn’t forget this.

He didn’t get to humiliate me in front of everyone, steal my choices, grab me like property—and not pay for it.

I kicked the engine to life, the roar of it drowning out everything but my own promise:

He was going to regret tonight. And I'll make sure of it that he will.

If he thought I was done with him—he had no idea what was coming.

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