Diamond stepped into the bar, her black dress hugging every curve in all the right places. Tonight, her friend had stood her up—but that wasn't going to stop her from having fun.
She sauntered toward the counter, every pair of eyes tracking her like moths to a flame. Sliding into a chair, she crossed one leg over the other, the slit in her dress parting just enough to make a few throats go dry.
"Can I get a glass of whiskey?" she said to the cute bartender, her lips curling into a teasing wink.
"Sure," he replied, his ears turning pink as he poured the drink and slid it to her.
"That hits the spot," she murmured after downing it in one go.
"Hey… you here alone?" a slurred voice interrupted. A drunk man had stumbled up beside her.
Diamond kept her attention fixed on her phone as if he wasn't there. He frowned and reached out to tap her shoulder.
She brushed his hand away sharply. "Can't you keep your hands to yourself? I wouldn't want my boyfriend to get angry," she said smoothly, then casually placed her hand on the lap of the man sitting beside her.
The drunk blinked, eyes darting to the other man. "Oh…" he mumbled before stumbling off into the crowd.
Diamond withdrew her hand without so much as a glance at her so-called savior and reached for another whiskey from the bartender.
"Boyfriend, huh?" a low voice said beside her.
She finally turned her head to look at him—the fake boyfriend she'd just appointed without permission.
Oh my… he's so handsome. Diamond's gaze lingered on him, taking in every chiseled line of his face. He looks like a male god thrown straight from heaven. I'm definitely not letting this one go.
"Aren't you my boyfriend?" she teased as she motioned for the bartender to refill her glass.
"Sorry. I don't date ugly girls," he said without even glancing at her.
Diamond's smile faltered. She knew—without a shadow of a doubt—that she was beautiful. Drop-dead, jaw-on-the-floor beautiful.
"Can you follow me somewhere?" she asked, putting on her most alluring face.
"Where?" he asked, still not looking at her.
"To the restroom," she replied.
"Why?" His brows drew together, like she'd just said something outrageous.
"I'm… scared of being alone," she cooed.
"You don't need to be. Your face could scare even robbers away," he said flatly.
A girl behind him choked back a laugh, and Diamond's cheeks flushed with anger. Her sweet, pitiful act had failed. Time for the seductive method.
She placed a hand on his thigh, dragging it slowly upward. "At least—" she began, letting the strap of her right sleeve slip down, baring a smooth expanse of skin.
"Don't test my patience, ugly," he murmured, smirking.
Her lips curved in challenge. "And what if I do?" she said, voice low and deliberate.
His smirk deepened, eyes finally locking on hers—dark, sharp, and unreadable.
Without a word, he took the last sip of his drink, set the glass down, and stood. "Fine," he said, his tone almost lazy. "Let's go… ugly."
Diamond's pulse quickened at the way he said it—mocking, yet threaded with something that made her skin prickle.
He didn't wait for her to follow, just started toward the back of the bar, his long strides forcing her to hurry after him. She could feel the stares of curious onlookers trailing them, whispers rippling through the crowd.
When they slipped into the dimly lit restroom, he didn't touch her at first. He just leaned against the door, blocking it with his frame, looking her over slowly—like he was peeling back layers without lifting a finger.
"So," he said at last, voice dropping into a low, dangerous register, "this is where you drag strangers you call your boyfriend?"
Diamond tilted her chin up in defiance, though her heartbeat was betraying her. "Only the ones I want."
His mouth curved, but it wasn't a smile—it was a promise of trouble. He stepped forward, closing the distance until his breath brushed her cheek.
"Careful," he murmured, his hand coming up to trail a single finger along her bare shoulder. "When you play with fire… sometimes it likes to play back."
"You won't handle it," he said, his gaze raking over her slowly, the words carrying both a warning and a dare.
"How sure are you I can't?" she shot back, letting the strap of her shotgun slide just enough to bare the smooth curve of her thigh.
His eyes darkened. The air between them thickened.
In the next heartbeat, her back slammed against the locked restroom door. His mouth crashed against hers—hot, rough, claiming. The kiss was no gentle invitation; it was a battle, his hands searing over her body like they had a right to be there.
She tried to shove him away, but he was immovable. The more she resisted, the deeper his lips pressed, until her breath came in short, jagged bursts.
Abruptly, he broke the kiss, gripping her chin and tilting her face up to his.
Her lips throbbed, swollen and tender.
"Don't ever test a man's patience," he murmured, his breath still brushing her mouth before he finally let her go.
"You're insane," she snapped.
"You asked for it." He smirked, tossing her a folded handkerchief. "Clean your face. You look uglier now."
Something slipped out with it—a sleek business card.
"That's mine," he said casually, turning toward the mirror and lifting his shirt as if she wasn't worth another glance. "Call me anytime you wish to sue me. "
She glared at him, muttering, "Shameless bastard," before looking down at the card.
CEO of Silver Black Hospital.
Her brows knit. "Wait… isn't this where Daenerys works?" she murmured.
She rinsed her face, dabbed it dry with the handkerchief, adjusted her hair, and walked out, heels clicking, pulse still unsteady