/Jake/
After everything that happened yesterday, I woke up in an unfamiliar place—which, frankly, sent a minor jolt of panic through me.
I sat up slowly, blinking around.
This... wasn't my bedroom.
And that realization alone was enough to jolt me fully awake.
I threw the covers off and checked, you know, that everything was still where it should be.
Thank God.
Still dressed.
No mysterious hickeys.
No morning-after regret.
I let out a breath of relief.
At least I hadn't done anything stupid or scandalous.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, I dangled my legs, searching for the floor. My toes found a pair of slippers neatly placed beside the bed—soft, warm, definitely not mine.
I slipped them on and made my way toward the door, determined to find whoever this condo-mansion belonged to.
Yes—mansion.
I know it's technically a condo, but it's massive enough to host a small wedding with zero stress. I'm talking ballroom-level living room, high ceilings, and—
Yup.
There it was.
A mid-length chandelier hanging like royalty in the middle of the room.
The couches? Huge. Plush. Dangerous.
I swear, I would rather sleep on one of those than in my own bed.
As I wandered deeper into the condo, I stumbled upon a massive kitchen that looked straight out of a luxury magazine. And right in the middle of it—
stood a figure.
A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette, facing away from me.
Only his back was visible from where I stood, but still—my brain screamed danger.
I couldn't recognize him.
I didn't know where I was.
And the fact that he moved so confidently around his kitchen only made it worse.
Anxiety and panic kicked in, full force.
I glanced around, spotted a vase on a small table by the wall, and—yep—grabbed it.
Heavy.
Solid.
Lethal, if needed.
One swing, and whoever this guy was would be down like a fallen hero in a drama.
I crept forward slowly, one hand gripping the murder vase like I was starring in a true crime reenactment, the other hand balancing against the counter so I wouldn't make a sound.
Step by step.
Breathe by breathe.
Right as I raised the vase—high above my head, ready to strike—I heard a voice.
"You might not want to break that vase."
"It'd cost you a couple million."
That voice.
That voice.
The man turned around—and I froze.
Leo.
I blinked.
Took a shaky step back.
Lowered the very expensive, very not-meant-for-murder vase and carefully placed it back on the counter.
"You're in my house," Leo added, casually sipping from a mug like he didn't just stop me from committing a luxury crime.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting at a long, elegant breakfast table, facing Leo—who looked calm as ever, like none of this was even remotely unusual.
He'd made breakfast.
Not just any breakfast—luxury breakfast.
Like, I-can't-afford-these-eggs kind of breakfast.
I stared at him with soul-searching eyes, trying to decode the gesture. Was he mad? Concerned? Just casually generous?
My gaze lingered up to his face... and stopped at his lips.
Those lips.
Red. Full. Ridiculously beautiful.
They looked like they belonged in a movie—and the thought of being kissed by them again hit me harder than caffeine. I snapped out of it and pinched my thigh under the table.
Focus, Jake. Focus.
"You have my number, right?"
Leo's voice snapped me back into reality.
"Yeah…" I nodded slowly.
"Then why didn't you use it to call me yesterday?"
His tone was calm, but when I met his eyes, they were sharp—searching.
"You said not to call you…" I offered, hesitantly.
"I said not to call or text me without a reason."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But if he ever shows up again—you call me."
His words were firm, protective.
And comforting in a way I didn't want to admit out loud.
"Do you know you were drugged yesterday?"
He dropped the question so casually, but it hit like a truck.
"Your ex put something in your drink. That's how you ended up here."
"What—no…"
I tried to recall the night.
"I knew something felt weird… but I didn't know Alex actually… drugged me."
My voice shook.
"What about Zara? Is she okay? Was she drugged too?"
Leo's tone softened.
"She's fine. My friend got her home safely. But..."
He looked at me with a raised brow.
"She was very surprised. Did you not tell her about... us?"
My face flushed.
Oh. The Fake dating thing.
Right. That.
No, I hadn't told her. And honestly—I was still processing it myself.
"She was probably just shocked by everything that happened."
I said, quietly.
"I mean… I was."
Leo stood up from his chair, collected my empty plate, and walked toward the kitchen.
He looked so calm—too calm—for someone who witnessed the chaos of last night.
I, on the other hand, couldn't get rid of the images burned into my mind.
Alex's eyes.
Those sharp, possessive stares.
That sickening hunger when he looked at me.
It still sent chills down my spine.
He didn't love me.
He just wanted to own me. To use me for his needs.
And I was done with that.
I met Alex when I had just started my professional life—fresh into the world of office deadlines and caffeine-fueled nights.
Back then, he was everything I thought I needed.
He was charming. Sweet. Attentive.
We had warm nights, light mornings, and laughter in between.
But slowly, the light faded.
He started coming home late.
He grew distant. Short-tempered.
Angry at the smallest things—like I was a burden, not a partner.
And then I found out.
He'd been cheating on me.
With a girl.
It wasn't just betrayal.
It felt like a punch to my entire sense of reality.
That's when I knew it was over.
I needed a reason to end it. A push.
And that's when Leo came into the picture.
At first, it was all pretend.
But then—he stood up for me. Protected me. Took care of me when I didn't even know I needed it.
Especially last night.
Leo had become… something else.
Something safe.
Something steady.
He was like a guardian angel—showing up exactly when I needed him the most.