I can’t see his face.
Can’t read his expression.
Just those glowing red eyes fixed on me like I’m the only person in the room.
A strange chill crawls down my spine.
Something about him gives off… weird vibes. Dangerous even.
But apparently I don’t have any survival instinct, because this guy looks a hundred percent my type. Why is it always like this? The ones I like either drug dealers, criminals, or just have this bad fuckboy energy.
Instead my stomach tightens. And heat curls low in my gut. Because whoever is behind that mask is definitely built like sin – tall, broad shoulders, black hair. The black suit looks expensive, it fits him perfectly.
And the way he’s standing there… just watching me.
It sends a dangerous little thrill through my body. My dick stirs faintly in my jeans.
Jesus.
I tear my gaze away and take another drink. Then another.
If this night turns into some kind of wild billionaire party, I might as well relax. The whiskey definitely helps. It warms my chest, loosens the tight knot of nerves sitting in my stomach.
After a few drinks, the room feels a little softer around the edges. The music louder, the lights warmer.
I grab another glass from another passing tray.
Why the fuck not?
But halfway through the drink something feels… off.
At first it’s subtle.
A slight heaviness behind my eyes.
Then the floor feels like it shifts under my feet.
I blink.
The room tilts slightly.
“What the —”
My head spins.
The music suddenly sounds too loud.
Voices blur together into one low buzzing noise.
I grip the edge of a nearby table.
Okay. Maybe I drank too fast. That happens sometimes. But this feels… different.
My stomach drops.
A cold realization creeps into my brain.
Either I just got drunk ridiculously fast…
