CHAPTER 001

Isabella's POV

The bass vibrates beneath my feet as the music roars through the walls. Laughter and conversation blend into a frantic symphony as bodies sway to the beat. Sweat, alcohol, and another smell—something raw—fill the air. An electrical device is present.

I'm drowning in something else, even though I should be lost in the present, caught up in the flow of bodies moving in unison. Betrayal. Anger. My chest is heavy with the bitter taste of heartbreak.

"Alessia, I despise him. I despise him. As I finish my drink, the words spill out of my mouth, igniting a burning sensation throughout my body.

"Stop it, baby. This is a temporary situation. With a voice full of patience that is getting old, Alessia puts her hand on my shoulder.

However, I am unable to. The pain is too recent. The wound is too deep. My eyes are already swimming as I shake my head. With her lips pressed into a tight line, my best friend lets out a breath. I am aware that she is tired of me constantly bringing up Matteo in our conversations and that she is fed up with my inability to let go.

"I promise, the next time I see him—" I hiccup as I use the back of my palm to wipe away my tears. " He'll be sorry. He'll come to regret everything.

"You must put an end to this." The sympathy in her voice turns to frustration as it gets sharper. "Weeping over somebody who—"

"Are you shouting at me right now?" Stumbling on unsteady feet, I poke a finger at her chest.

With a sigh, she embraces me. "All I want is for you to hear me over the music." There's a subtle hum in my ear. "Are you aware of my love for you?"

I sniffle and nod. Then all of a sudden, I have a strong urge to urinate. Swaying like a leaf in the wind, I leap out of the booth.

"Where are you going?" Alessia is already reaching out to support me.

"Bathroom."

"I'll bring—"

"Nope!" I laugh as I peel away. "I'll be right back!"

She avoids conflict, presumably relieved to be free of my drama. Before I turn away, I see somebody winking at her. Normal.

As I stagger toward the restrooms, the club whirls around me. My limbs feel too heavy, and my head seems to float. Despite the neon signs being blurry, I can make out a door at the end of the hallway. That must be it.

I lean against the wall and mutter, "Screw you, Cameron." I push through the door with my shoulder while my heart thuds in my ears.

I struggle to zip my skirt, but out of the corner of my eye, a shadow moves.

As he exits the second stall, a man zips up his jeans. He becomes motionless. I go cold.

"What the hell?"

"What the hell?" He raises an eyebrow in reiteration.

We look at one another. My inebriated mind finds it difficult to comprehend.

I accusingly say, "You're in the wrong place."

"Am I?" His mouth quivers with laughter.

I look up. "MEN'S RESTROOM" is written in bold letters on the sign above the door, staring back at me.

I am experiencing nausea.

"You appear intoxicated." He has a smooth, playful voice.

"Excuse you?" I stomp toward him, my eyes narrowing. "How dare you call me a drunk?"

His laugh is annoying. "Because you are."

"You're a pervert!" I spit. "I bet you come here just to look at women!"

His laughter fades. His dark, unreadable eyes suddenly appear in front of me. "You really ought to stop talking." He has a dangerously low voice.

I get a chill. He moves closer, his breath warm against my cheek, and my back presses against the chilly wall. His intense, piercing eyes search my face.

"I'm a pervert, huh?"

I give a violent shake of my head.

A smirk tilts his lips. "I thought that too."

He steps back, straightens his necktie, and walks to the door. My veins swell with relief.

But then I make a dumb move. "You're not really that attractive."

He stops. Rotates. "Oh?"

"My ex-boyfriend—my boyfriend—is much more attractive." I raise my chin defiantly and cross my arms.

"So why were you staring?"

I stumble.

He grins more broadly. "Are you certain you don't think I'm attractive?"

I laugh. "Positive."

"Prove it."

I blinked. "What?"

He takes slow, deliberate steps back toward me. "Give me a kiss. I'll leave if you don't feel anything."

I let out a loud laugh. "You're crazy."

"Am I? Or are you perhaps concerned that it may not meet your preferences?

I should go. I should run right back to Alessia and shove past him. But my body betrays me.

With a firm yet gentle grip, he raises a hand to my waist. He murmurs, "Last chance."

I stay put.

Then his mouth slams into mine.

Warmth spreads through me, and a gasp dies in my throat. His fingers ignite something deep and strange as they move down my spine. My hands clutch his shoulders as my body pressed against his.

No. This information is incorrect.

I won't stop, though.

The kiss gets deeper as he tilts my chin. I get chills when his tongue touches mine. My body wants more, but my mind is telling me to stop, and my heart is pounding.

When he lifts me onto the counter and presses me up against the mirror, I hardly notice. As his hands move over my thighs and my dress slides up, I gasp for air. The weight of reality overwhelms me.

"Stop." I can hardly speak.

He does. Immediately. His breathing is as labored as mine.

With shaking hands, I push him away. "I—I can't do this."

He looks into my eyes. Then he nods slowly and moves away. "Enough."

He smirks as he straightens his tie and adjusts his shirt. "But if you ever decide to change your mind..."

Grasping the counter for support, I swallow forcefully.

He turns and leaves, leaving me alone in the dark bathroom with my heart pounding against my ribs.

What on earth just took place?

And why do I already feel awful about letting him go?