My head was going to explode.
Another all-nighter fueled by cheap coffee and the looming terror of my final architecture project. The deadline felt like a guillotine hanging over my neck. My tiny, crappy apartment, shared with Chloe, didn't help. The walls seemed to close in on me daily.
And I was broke. Again.
"Amelia! Earth to Amelia!" Chloe’s voice cut through my stress-induced haze. She stood in the doorway of my cluttered room, hands on her hips, a vibrant splash of color against my muted despair.
"What, Chloe? I'm trying to save my academic life here," I muttered, gesturing vaguely at the piles of sketches and blueprints.
"Exactly! You're *trying* too hard. You need a break. A real one." Her eyes sparkled with an idea I already knew I wouldn't like.
"If 'break' means another one of your ‘let’s find Amelia a man’ missions, then no thanks." I turned back to my drafting table, hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t. Chloe never took hints.
"It means we're going out! Tonight! Fancy club, good music, and absolutely no talk of cantilevered beams or sustainable urban planning." She yanked a barely-worn dress from my sad little closet. "This one. You’re wearing this."
I groaned. "Chloe, I can't. I have so much work, and I look like a zombie who hasn't slept in a week."
"Nonsense. A shower, some makeup, and this dress will transform you. Think of it as… research. For your human interaction skills." She winked.
An hour later, despite my protests, I was squeezed into the silky black dress, which was admittedly nicer than anything I usually wore. Chloe, of course, looked like a goddess in something bright and glittery.
"See? Not so bad, right?" she chirped, applying a final swipe of lipstick to my lips. "Now, let's go unleash you upon the unsuspecting nightlife of New York City!"
"Unsuspecting is right," I grumbled, but a tiny part of me, the part starved for anything other than stress, felt a flicker of something like excitement. Or maybe it was just terror.
The club was… a lot. Pulsating bass vibrated through the floor, up my legs, and into my teeth. Flashing lights strobed across a sea of beautifully dressed, confident people. It was a world away from my textbooks and instant noodles.
"Isn't this great?" Chloe shouted over the music, already swaying to the beat.
I nodded, feeling like a fish out of water. A very small, very awkward fish. Chloe dragged me towards the bar. "Two vodka sodas!" she yelled at the bartender, who gave her an appreciative once-over.
I leaned against the cool marble of the bar, trying to look like I belonged. It wasn't working. My cheap drink, a far cry from the colorful concoctions everyone else seemed to be sipping, did little to ease my nerves.
Chloe quickly got absorbed into a conversation with a group of people who looked like they’d stepped off a magazine cover. I was left alone, nursing my drink, feeling more out of place than ever.
Maybe one more drink, I thought. Just to take the edge off. Or maybe I should just slip out and go home.
I took a tentative step away from the bar, my foot catching on something. Or maybe someone. My balance, already precarious in Chloe's borrowed heels, completely abandoned me. I lurched forward, drink flying, a strangled yelp escaping my lips as I braced for impact with the hard floor.
Strong hands caught me, steadying me before I could make a complete fool of myself. Warmth radiated from them, seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. My drink, however, wasn't so lucky. It had splashed generously down the front of a very expensive-looking, very dark suit jacket.
Oh, God. Mortification washed over me in a hot, sticky wave.
"I am so, so sorry!" I stammered, looking up into the face of the man I’d just assaulted with my cheap vodka.
My breath hitched. Tall. He was incredibly tall, and built. Even in the dim, flashing lights, I could see he was handsome. Dangerously handsome. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his jaw sharp, and his eyes… his eyes were electric, pinning me in place.
He wasn't yelling. He wasn't even frowning. Instead, a slow smile spread across his lips, crinkling the corners of those intense eyes.
His voice, when he spoke, was a low, smooth rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "Well, hello. Not every day an angel falls into my arms."
My cheeks burned. Angel? More like a clumsy disaster. "I… I ruined your jacket," I managed, my voice barely a squeak. I tried to dab at the wet patch with a flimsy cocktail napkin, which only seemed to make it worse.
He chuckled, a rich sound that made my stomach flip. "Don't worry about the jacket." His gaze roamed over me, a slow, deliberate assessment that made me feel both exposed and… noticed. Really noticed.
My heart was doing gymnastics, just like Chloe had probably hoped. This man radiated power and confidence. He was older, probably in his early thirties, and dressed like he owned half the city. I felt like a complete mess next to him, in my borrowed dress and overwhelmed state.
Across the bar, I saw Chloe. Her jaw had practically hit the floor, her eyes wide as saucers, and she was giving me an enthusiastic, if slightly drunken, thumbs-up. Oh, she was loving this.
Damien, as he introduced himself moments later, making my name sound like poetry when he repeated it, guided me to a slightly less crowded part of the bar. He bought me a new drink, something far more sophisticated than my vodka soda.
He was charming, his questions easy, but his eyes never stopped that intense, almost possessive, survey of me. He made me feel like I was the only person in the packed club. It was intoxicating. And terrifying.
"So, Amelia," he said, his voice dropping a little, leaning closer. I could smell his cologne, something expensive and masculine that made my head spin. "This is a very loud place to get to know someone."
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "It is," I agreed, my voice sounding breathier than I intended.
His eyes gleamed. "Perhaps we could go somewhere… quieter? Or I could get your number, and we could find a quieter place another time?"
My mind screamed, *Danger! Run!* This was too much, too fast. This man was way out of my league. But another, wilder part of me, the part that had been dormant for too long, whispered, *Say yes.*
I just stared at him, caught between panic and a thrilling, reckless curiosity, wondering who this incredible, powerful stranger was, and why on earth he was paying any attention to me at all.
