Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Rina
Two months earlier…
* * *
The bass pounds hard enough to feel it in my bones. It’s a steady pulse beneath the music. Lights strobe across the packed club, painting the crowd in flashes of silver and blue. Bodies move in every direction, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and the sharp bite of spilled vodka.
My date leans in, shouting something about quarterly projections. Or profit margins. Or whatever it is men like him think makes them interesting. His breath smells faintly of gin. I nod, take a sip of my drink, and pretend to listen while my mind drifts elsewhere.
He’s nice enough.
Smart, successful, safe.
And utterly forgettable.
Why am I so restless?
I came here to remind myself I could still do this. I could smile, flirt, and pretend to care. But all I can think about is how empty it feels. How much of my life revolves around managing other people’s disasters while mine quietly simmers beneath the surface.
It’s a shock when my gaze catches on a familiar face.
One I’ve spent months training myself not to look at.
One that belongs to a man who is completely off-limits.
The sight of him slams into me before I can mask the reaction.
I tell myself to look away.
To remember every reason I shouldn’t want him.
But my brain refuses to listen.
Oliver Van Doren leans against the bar, looking like sin in human form, with a glass of whiskey held loosely in one hand. His shoulders strain against the pale fabric of his shirt, every line of him carved with effortless confidence. The top buttons are undone, a tease of skin and arrogance that feels deliberate. His blond hair is just mussed enough to look like someone has already had their hands in it.
He doesn’t have to demand attention.
People just give it to him.
Even when I tell myself to turn back before he notices, my gaze continues to linger. There’s something about him I’m not strong enough to fight.
And that’s a problem.
The moment his eyes find mine, the noise of the club fades to nothing but the thud of bass and the electric hum between us. His smirk is slow and knowing. It’s the kind of expression that promises trouble.
Fuck.
I really need to look away and pretend I didn’t see him.
Instead, I hold his stare.
He’s on the move before I can question the decision.
Or the ramifications.
The crowd shifts around him, parting as if even the air knows better than to get in his way. He walks with a predatory ease that makes my skin heat and my better judgment unravel. Each step eats up the space between us until there’s nowhere left to hide.
By the time he reaches me, my date has already blurred into background noise.
Poor Jared.
He never stood a chance.
Oliver’s gaze flicks over the man at my side before slicing back to me. “What are you doing with this guy?”
I arch a brow, lifting my glass with practiced calm. “It’s called a date, Oliver.”
“First and last,” he growls, low enough that only I can hear.
A reckless heat curls at the bottom of my belly. It’s the only explanation for why I don’t end this right here. “Excuse me?”
“Ditch him.” His hand finds my hip, fingers pressing just enough to steal my composure. He tugs me closer until his body brushes mine, the contact sparking through me like fire catching dry tinder. Every reason I should tell him no goes up in smoke.
The laugh that slips from my lips comes out quieter than I intend, edged with nerves. “You can’t just—”
“Sure I can.” There’s a rough, taunting edge in the way he speaks. “Come dance with me.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or the way the bass vibrates through my chest. Or maybe it’s just Oliver with that infuriating grin and the promise in his eyes that he could make every fantasy I’ve ever tried to forget a reality.
Whatever the reason, I let him pull me onto the dance floor.
The moment he does, the music swallows us whole.
He draws me against him, close enough to feel the heat radiating through the thin fabric of my dress. His hands find my hips, palms guiding me through the rhythm until every sway of his body feels like a dare I’m too far gone to refuse.
The air pulses with motion and sound until I can’t tell where the music ends and he begins. The bass thrums beneath my skin, and the steady drag of his breath against my neck syncs with it.
The crowd fades to a blur of color. Bodies grind, glasses catch the light, laughter spills and dissolves into darkness. Silver and blue lights wash over us in lazy waves, catching the sharpness of his jaw and the dark promise in his eyes.
I feel him everywhere from the slide of his hands tracing my hips, the rough scrape of stubble when his mouth finds the curve of my jaw, and the faint brush of lips that doesn’t quite become a kiss but steals my composure anyway.