Chapter One
Anna
"Damn it, couldn't those two have picked a brighter spot for their date?"
The bass thumped so hard that it made my chest go numb. I hoisted my mini camera—disguised as a power bank—a little higher, and my arm screamed from holding the pose for a solid twenty minutes.
The bar was a chaotic mess under the cover of night, and strobe lights flickered like a short-circuiting brain. The air reeked of booze, cheap perfume, and straight-up hormones, and every breath made my head spin harder.
The leather skirt that I had squeezed into tonight felt like a torture device. Every inhale made my ribs ache like hell. My smoky eye makeup was probably a smeared disaster by now because that dollar-store eyeliner from the corner bodega had run like a ghost. And the blonde wig on my head? It was a total nightmare. Synthetic crap made it stiff and scratchy like a Brillo pad strapped to my skull. I touched my hairline, and sweat had melted the glue, turning it all sticky and gross.
"Anna, you still with us?" Suge's lazy drawl crackled through my earpiece. "Your breathing sounds like you're about to pass out."
"Peachy," I whispered back, and I kept my voice low. "Just this skirt—if it gets any tighter, it'll land me in the ER."
I licked my parched lips, and I zeroed in on that VIP corner. My targets—a has-been rock star and his forgettable model fling—were glued together like they were melting. One kiss shot would cover my rent for the month. Hell, it might even convince the editor to end my four-month internship purgatory.
"Alright, but you watch yourself. I don't wanna bail you out of jail for stalking."
"Relax, I've got this." I squinted, and I pretended to check the battery under the lights as I raised the camera. "Place like this? Sharks and minnows everywhere—no one's clocking some nobody and her fake charger."
But right as I held my breath and nailed the focus—
A shadow sliced through the crowd out of the corner of my eye.
I whipped my head around on instinct, and my breath hitched.
Holy shit.
He strolled in from the exit like a sleek panther who had wandered into a hyena den. The whole noisy hellhole went dead silent—at least in my world.
My lips parted without me meaning to.
"Focus, Anna. Rent! Rent!" I muttered to myself in my head, but my eyes were glued to him like magnets.
He dropped into the priciest booth up front, and an invisible force field kept everyone else at bay. Folks around him were hollering, clinking glasses, and cracking up—but he just lounged back on that dark leather couch, all lazy like a fed cat. His black button-down had sleeves rolled to his elbows, and it showed off those smooth, ripped forearms. And on his wrist? A watch probably cost more than my yearly paycheck.
But what really pinned my stare was his face.
Sharp angles made it look like somebody had chiseled it with a blade. A straight nose defined it, tight thin lips completed it, and thoseeyes—hazel—glowed like amber in the dim light, wild and straight-up dangerous.
I had aimed the camera at the rock star at first, but somewhere along the line, the lens had locked onto him.
...Shit. Anna, what the hell are you doing?
But I did not pull away. Through the viewfinder, his face sharpened up even more. That straight nose stood out, the jawline looked like a razor edge, and the eyes brimmed with raw, predatory intensity.
The shutter snapped before I even registered it. It clicked once, then twice.
I stared at the camera in shock, like, did I just...? I had straight-up paparazzied some random dude? A guy who screamed "trouble" from a mile away!
And right as I fumbled to stuff the thing away—
The guy froze mid-sip.
Then, he turned his head slow as hell.
Those deep hazel eyes cut through the dim chaos, and they nailed me dead-on. Our gazes locked, and my lungs quit working.
