By evening, she had quietly left the office.
And without thinking twice, she had come straight to the bar.
The drinks were already lined up on the counter when Mia lifted her head again. She had finished three cocktails without really tasting them and was halfway through her fourth. Her stomach felt heavy, but the ache in her chest wouldn’t ease. No matter how much she drank, Alexander’s face kept intruding on her thoughts, along with the image of him collapsing into her arms.
She stared blankly at the glass, fingers loosely wrapped around it, and tipped back the last of the drink.
That was when someone slid onto the stool beside her.
A man leaned slightly toward her, his elbow resting on the counter as his hand reached across the bar. Mia flinched instinctively and turned her head. He wasn’t bad-looking—clean-cut, office-worn, probably from one of the nearby buildings. The kind of man who thought confidence was enough.
“I’m alone too,” he said casually, flashing a practiced smile. “You here by yourself? Want some company?”
Mia didn’t answer. She turned away, shoulders curling inward, trying to disappear into the noise and dim lighting.
But he didn’t take the hint.
He scooted his chair closer, the scrape loud against the floor, and nudged his glass toward her. “I’ve got an extra drink,” he added. “And I booked a private room here. It’s quieter. We could talk.”
Before she could respond—before she could even gather herself—his hand reached for her shoulder, fingers closing.
Just then, a sharp cry cut through the music.
“Ah—!”
In the next instant, the man was hauled backward, tumbling off the stool as his wrist was twisted painfully behind him. The chair clattered to the floor.
Mia’s breath caught. Her eyes flew up—and froze.
Alexander stood behind her.
Even with his shoulder secured in a brace, his grip was iron-tight, his posture rigid with barely restrained fury. His eyes burned as he looked down at the man sprawled on the floor.
“She’s married,” Alexander said coldly. “Fuck off.”
The man scrambled backward, fear draining all color from his face. He stammered something incoherent, shot a terrified glance at Mia, then bolted out of the bar.
Alexander didn’t watch him leave.
He stepped closer instead—so close Mia felt his chest press against her back, his heat surrounding her completely. She was trapped between him and the counter.
He reached out, took the glass the man had pushed toward her, and tossed it away.
“If you needed a man to spend the night with…” His voice dropped, low and dark, brushing against her ear. “…why didn’t you come to me?”
Mia stiffened, every muscle locking at once. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Before she could turn or pull away, Alexander hooked his hand around the back of her chair and spun it smoothly, forcing her to face him. His eyes locked onto hers—intense, searching.
Then he leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss was fierce and sudden, stealing the air from her lungs. Shock flared—and then something else. Mia kissed him back without thinking, her hands lifting to his shoulders.
When she finally gasped, struggling for breath, he pulled back just enough to lift her effortlessly into his arms.
“Let me go,” she muttered, the words slurred, weak with alcohol and emotion.
Alexander didn’t give her the chance.
