He pushes me against the wall.
"Relax," he mutters.
My stomach drops.
I shove at his chest harder. "I said stop."
He laughs again.
The door opens, and that is when he suddenly disappears.
One second he's in front of me, the next he's flying sideways like someone hit the fast-forward button on physics.
He slams into the door so hard it bursts open and he tumbles straight out into the hallway.
I blink.
Then I turn.
And that's when I see him.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Perfectly tailored suit that costs more than my entire wardrobe. Dark hair, strong jaw, eyes that land on me with a kind of quiet intensity that makes the air in the room feel heavier.
He looks older. Not old—God, no—but older than anyone else here. Forties maybe.
Which somehow only makes him more interesting.
"You alright?" he asks.
His voice is low. Calm. Like he just swatted a fly instead of throwing a full-grown man across a room.
I straighten my shirt, adrenaline buzzing through me.
"Better now."
His eyes sweep over me once. Not in the sleazy way the other guy was looking at me, but like he’s checking I’m okay. Lingering, but protective.
Which is not a combination I usually associate with men in nightclubs.
“Want me to call a cab for you?”
“No.” I shake my head, pushing hair out of my face. “I set out to have fun tonight. I’m not gonna let one asshole get in the way of that.”
Something flickers across his mouth. Not quite a smile. “What’s the occasion?”
“My birthday.” I grin. “Twenty-one today.”
His eyebrow lifts. “That’s a lie.”
I sigh dramatically. “Fine. Nineteen. Happy?”
“Club owner wouldn’t be.”
“Then it's a good thing he's not here,” I say lightly. “Whoever he is.”
The man studies me for a second. That faint smirk appears again. It makes him look extremely kissable, which is not a thought I expected to have about a mysterious possibly-dangerous older man who just body-checked a creep into another dimension.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
