The music was too loud. The kind that made the floor tremble and her heart ache harder.
Ava sat in the corner of the crowded club, half-hidden beneath flashing lights that painted her skin in shades of red and blue. The laughter around her felt like mockery. Every face, every pair of hands touching, reminded her of the one person she never thought would betray her.
Nathan.
His name still burned on her tongue like cheap vodka. She’d loved him for five years - planned a wedding, built dreams, memorized his morning routine, the sound of his laugh. And now, in a single night, she’d watched him crumble everything.
Her friend’s voice echoed in her head. “Ava, don’t go through his phone if you’re not ready for the truth.”
But she had. And the truth had clawed her apart.
She took another drink. The third? The fourth? She’d lost count. The burn down her throat was the only thing that felt real.
The club spun, lights blurring into ribbons. Ava pressed her palm against her temple, trying to steady herself. The room reeked of perfume, sweat, and heartbreak -hers most of all.
When she stumbled outside, the night air hit her like a slap. Cold. Sobering. But not enough. Her vision swayed, and so did her heart. She dug through her bag for her phone, muttering Nathan’s name under her breath.
Then she collided with someone.
Her heel caught on the curb, her drink splashed, and her body crashed against a solid wall - no, a person. A man.
He caught her before she hit the ground. His voice, deep and calm, came through the fog. “Careful.”
But to Ava, through blurred tears and alcohol’s haze, the timbre of his voice sounded familiar. It sounded like him.
Her chest broke open. “How could you?” she hissed, fists trembling. “How could you do that to me?”
The man froze, confusion flickering in his dark eyes. “I think you’ve got the wrong–”
She didn’t let him finish. She pushed at his chest, then clung to his jacket as if letting go would mean drowning. “You said forever,” she whispered, her words trembling, “you said you loved me all the way to the moon, around and right back.”
He exhaled sharply. “Miss, you’re drunk. You should go home.”
“I don’t have a home anymore.” Her voice broke. “You ruined it.”
For a long moment, he just looked at her – this stranger who had mistaken him for someone else. He could have walked away. Should have. But there was something about her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, that made him hesitate.
“Alright,” he murmured, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Let me call you a cab.”
“No!” She grabbed his sleeve, her grip desperate, shaking. “Don’t leave me.”
His jaw tightened. He sighed, looked up at the indifferent sky, and muttered, “Fine. Come on.”
He guided her toward a sleek black car parked at the curb. The interior smelled of cedarwood and clean linen – nothing like the chaos of the club.
She mumbled apologies, cried into her hands, then slumped against the seat. Somewhere between the city lights and the silence, she drifted off.
—
When Ava opened her eyes again, her vision blurry, everything was dim. Quiet.
The room was unfamiliar – minimalist, masculine. Shadows stretched across the floor, and the faint scent of cologne hung in the air. Her head throbbed like a drum. She groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples.
Her dress was crumpled, her heels abandoned near the door. On the couch sat the man — the stranger – now dressed down, his shirt sleeves rolled, his expression unreadable.
“You’re awake,” he said quietly.
Her throat was dry. “Where… where am I?”
“My house,” he replied. “You passed out. I didn’t think it was safe to send you off alone.”
Memories returned in fragments – the club, the drink, the confrontation. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“I figured,” he said, his tone measured. “You mentioned a name.”
Their eyes met, and for a fleeting second, the air between them shifted. Heavy. Electric.
He was beautiful in a way that made her chest ache – sharp jaw, dark hair tousled, eyes that seemed to see too much. The kind of man danger clung to.
She sat up, pulling the blanket closer. “Thank you… for not leaving me out there.”
He gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward her but not lingering. “You should drink some water. Kitchen’s down the hall.”
She rose on unsteady feet, the world tilting slightly. She found a glass, filled it, drank greedily. The cold water against her throat steadied her – until she noticed something on the counter.
A leather wallet. A familiar logo stamped on a company ID.
Her eyes darted to the name.
The photo.
And then her breath caught in her chest.
It can’t be.
She looked again, her vision became clearer, her hands trembling.
The name beneath the photo glared back at her – Lucas Grant, her boss.
The CEO. The man whose office she’d walked into every morning for the past year.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned slowly toward the living room. He was watching her, calm but alert, as if he already knew what she’d found.
“You–” Her voice cracked. “You’re… my boss.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “Yes.”
Silence. The kind that burns.
Ava’s pulse thundered in her ears. The memories of the night before blurred like watercolor – his voice, his touch, his kindness, the way she’d clung to him.
Her chest tightened with shame and disbelief. She clutched the counter for balance. “What have I done…” she whispered, barely audible.
He stood, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them. His expression was unreadable, but his tone carried a quiet weight. “Nothing you need to be afraid of,” he said softly. “You were hurt. You needed someone. That’s all.”
But she wasn’t sure if she believed him – or herself.
Because in that brief moment, standing under the low light of his kitchen, Ava realized she wasn’t just afraid of what had happened.
She was afraid of how safe she felt near him.
And that terrified her even more.
