We walked into the bar like a storm in stilettos—Brittany, Amber, and I, arms linked and laughter bubbling between us. The music thumped through the floorboards, wrapping around us like an invitation to forget our worries. Tonight was about celebration. No men. No drama. Just us girls and a pitcher of margaritas.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
We'd barely settled into our booth when a group of sharply dressed men strolled over. Their confidence was palpable, and their suits weren't just expensive—they were tailored. My instincts flared. Men like this didn't wander bars looking for polite conversation.
"Excuse me, ladies," said the taller one, flashing a practiced smile. "We were just passing by and couldn't help but notice your energy. Mind if we join?"
He had a smooth voice and an even smoother friend, who stood behind him wearing sunglasses like we were in a summer beach bar instead of a dimly lit club.
Before I could say anything, Brittany leaned forward, batting her lashes. "Well, you know what they say—'the more, the merrier.' Pull up a chair, handsome."
"Thanks," he said, sliding in beside her. "I'm Justin. And this grumpy statue here is my twin brother, Josh. We came out with a friend, but he's about as lively as a Monday morning meeting. Figured you ladies looked like you knew how to have more fun."
Josh barely spared us a word. His attention had locked onto Amber, whose smile immediately widened.
"Oh, fun is exactly what we're here for!" Amber said. "Actually, we're celebrating. Our brave girl Emma here went toe-to-toe with a beast today and lived to tell the tale."
"Do tell," Josh replied, his voice finally breaking into something resembling curiosity.
And that's all the permission Amber needed.
"Well," she began dramatically, "our girl had an interview at some big company today. On her way in, her heel snapped clean off. Most people would've bailed. But not Emma. Oh no. She snapped the other one off, lifted her chin, and walked in like a runway model."
Josh's brow lifted. "No way."
"She did," Amber confirmed. "And the best part? She didn't miss a beat. Wobble-free."
Brittany turned to me, grinning. "Please tell me you didn't scare your interviewer with that kind of entrance."
I took a long sip from my glass. "Not exactly. But let's just say he wasn't impressed by anything except himself."
"She's being modest," Amber cut in. "The man was a nightmare—rude, cold, and acted like her presence was beneath him. He actually interrupted her mid-answer—more than once!"
They were all watching me now. So I gave them the whole story. From the silent elevator ride to the bone-chilling stare that man gave me when I dared to speak. The table roared with laughter by the end, the men wiping tears from their eyes.
"You're fire," Josh said, laughing. "Brother, I think she's exactly the kind of woman Alex needs to knock him down a peg."
I was about to ask who Alex was when the voice that haunted my morning slithered through the air behind me.
"What was that about someone teaching me a lesson?"
Oh no.
No, no, no.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The temperature around us dropped several degrees. Brittany's mouth dropped open as her gaze drifted past me.
"Alex!" Justin jumped to his feet, voice tight. "Hey, man, we were just talking… joking, really."
Alexander Allan. In a bar. In a full suit. Who the hell wears a navy three-piece to a place where beer comes in pitchers?
"I was headed to the restroom and heard my name being dragged through one of your pickup lines," he said flatly, looking down at us like we were ants in his boardroom. "Figured I'd see for myself."
Josh cleared his throat. "Turns out Emma here had a run-in with someone today who reminded her a lot of you. So naturally, we joked that if the two of you ever met, we'd need popcorn."
Brittany, ever the flirt, added, "Well, I have to say, you're even more handsome up close."
But his eyes weren't on her. They had locked onto mine. For a moment—just a flicker—I saw something like recognition... maybe even surprise. But it vanished behind a veil of disdain.
"You…" he said slowly. "What the hell are you doing here? No company employee should be drinking in public."
My stomach twisted. "Excuse me? I'm not on your payroll yet, and even if I were, I'm an adult. You don't get to dictate how I live my life outside work."
"So this is the devil you were all talking about," Josh said before slapping a hand over his mouth too late.
Mr. Allan's eyes narrowed. "Devil?"
He said it so coldly, the entire bar seemed to pause. The music, the chatter—it all faded as his voice sliced through the air.
"D-E-V-I-L," he repeated, louder this time. His bellow sent a jolt through my spine. But if he thought he could intimidate me, he clearly didn't know me at all.
Amber, attempting damage control, laughed nervously. "Oops! She meant 'arrogant bastard'—you know, totally different."
Justin groaned. "Not helping."
Before anyone could react, he was on me—fast, too fast—his hand clamped around my throat, pinning me to the booth's backrest. His face was inches from mine, those glacier eyes burning with rage.
"Who do you think you are?" he hissed. "You think you can insult me in public and walk away unscathed? You'll beg for death before this is over."
I stared him down, my breath caught in my throat—but not from fear. From fury.
"Mr. Allan," I said, my voice calm and even, "I suggest you let go of me before your thousand-dollar suit gets ruined by your own blood."
He sneered, tightening his grip. "Still mouthing off, even now? I should—"
But he never got to finish.
My knee shot up, slamming hard into his stomach. As he flinched, I landed a solid right hook across his face, and blood exploded from his nose.
Gasps erupted around us. Justin and Josh leapt to their feet as Alexander stumbled back, hand over his face, eyes blazing.
I stood, straightened my dress, and brushed my hair back like nothing happened.
"You're a businessman," I said, meeting his gaze. "Consider this mercy. I'm walking away. Don't follow me."
With that, I turned on my heel and walked out, my girls close behind. I didn't look back.
We didn't speak until we got home.
As soon as I walked through the door, I dropped to my knees. The adrenaline crashed down, and the weight of what I'd done hit me like a freight train.
"I hit my boss," I whispered. "I hit my boss."
Amber and Brittany were beside me in an instant, pulling me into their arms.
"It's going to be okay," Amber murmured.
"No, it's not," I choked. "I wanted this job. I needed it. I'm stuck in this tiny apartment, trying to support my brother through school, and now... what am I supposed to do? Freelance forever?"
"Emmie," Brittany said gently, wiping a tear from my cheek. "You've always been there for us. Now we'll be there for you."
"We already called out sick tomorrow," Amber added. "So how about we go shopping and catch a movie? You need a distraction."
"But you'll get in trouble…"
"We'll risk it," Brittany said. "For you."
We curled up on the rug, watching All American, our favorite series. We laughed. We cried. We clung to each other like life rafts in the chaos.
Meanwhile...
Josh whistled, shaking his head as he helped Alexander into the car.
"That woman has balls of steel," he muttered. "I've never seen anyone humiliate thee Alexander Allan like that."
Alexander wiped the blood from his face, eyes dark. "She made the first move," he muttered. "Now it's my turn."
"Alex…"
"I don't care," he said coldly. "Emma Stone started this war. And I'm going to make sure she regrets it."