The next evening, the city glittered under a velvet sky.
Skyscraper lights blinked like constellations, limousines hummed through the streets, and at the heart of it all, "The Cash Bar" throbbed to life again the one place where desire drowned in neon and champagne.
Nilla Rae stood behind the counter, her long legs crossed at the ankle, stirring a drink she wasn't really watching. She'd been trying not to think about him. The stranger from last night.
The man with gray eyes that saw too much.
The one who'd left her pulse tangled in a rhythm she couldn't shake.
She told herself he was like every other customer bored, arrogant, disposable. But no matter how many glasses she polished or smiles she faked, she kept glancing toward the door.
He didn't come.
Not at first.
Hours passed. She was just starting to breathe normally again when the music cut slightly just enough to notice the shift in energy. Heads turned. Conversations softened.
And there he was.
"Jax Donovan."
A name that could buy empires, though she didn't know it yet.
Tonight, he wore no tie, his collar open, a hint of mischief in his stride. He didn't look like he belonged here, yet he moved like the place existed for him.
Her fingers tightened on the shaker, her heart betraying her again.
"Don't look impressed. Don't look curious."
But curiosity was her fatal flaw.
He spotted her instantly, like he'd come only for her. He approached with the slow confidence of a man who never had to chase yet somehow enjoyed pretending he did.
"Missed me?" he asked, voice smooth as the whiskey she'd poured him the night before.
Nilla arched a brow. "You flatter yourself easily."
"Only when it works." He smiled, leaning on the counter. "Whiskey. Neat."
She poured it without looking at him. "You could try something new."
"I did. You."
The ice in her glass cracked with the sound of heat meeting cold.
She handed him the drink. "You're wasting your charm here."
"And yet you're still listening," he said softly.
She tried to smirk, but her pulse was betraying her composure. He wasn't just charming he was *focused*. His attention felt like gravity, pulling her in without warning.
"Do you always come back to the same bar two nights in a row?" she asked, leaning forward, her lips barely curving.
"Only when I lose a bet."
"Bet?" she echoed.
He swirled his drink lazily. "A friend said no woman could refuse me twice."
Her laugh was sharp, low, and dangerous. "Then congratulations. You just lost."
Jax grinned, the kind that could light up a room or break a rule. "We'll see."
At the VIP corner, his friends men in suits, women in designer dresses were watching him, laughing, whispering. One of them lifted a glass toward him, smirking. Nilla caught it and instantly understood.
He wasn't just flirting. He was proving something.
Her stomach turned. She'd played this game before. Men with too much money and too little purpose using women to feed their egos.
But there was something different about Jax. The arrogance was there, yes, but beneath it… something flickered. A tension. A loneliness he didn't admit.
Still, she refused to be another notch on his ledger.
"So that's what this is?" she asked quietly. "A game between rich men?"
He met her gaze. "No. That's what it started as."
"And now?"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping into something dark and real. "Now I just want to know why I can't stop thinking about a woman who doesn't even want to be looked at."
For a heartbeat, neither of them breathed.
Nilla's throat felt tight. That wasn't a line. It sounded like a confession one that frightened her more than any bet could.
Before she could respond, a hand slammed onto the counter beside her.
"Hey, sweetheart, another round here!"
A drunk regular leered at her, his hand too close. Nilla moved to step away, but Jax's expression changed instantly. Cold. Dangerous.
He turned, grabbed the man's wrist firm but controlled.
"She said wait," Jax said quietly.
The man froze. Even through the noise, the tension cut through the air like a blade. Then Jax released him with a faint push, the drunk stumbling back into the crowd.
Nilla's eyes widened. "You didn't have to"
"I know," he said, his gaze softening. "But I wanted to."
Something warm and heavy swirled between them. Gratitude. Electricity. Fear.
"You should go," she whispered. "Before you make a bigger scene."
"I don't walk away easily."
"You're used to people doing what you want."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe. But I'm more interested in the ones who don't."
Her lips parted, but she didn't answer. The air between them felt charged, thick, intimate. The club lights strobed red across his face passion painted in color.
He set his glass down, untouched. "I'll see you again, Nilla."
She blinked. "I didn't tell you my name."
He gave that infuriating half-smile again. "Then I guessed right."
And just like that, he turned and left same as before. Silent. Unhurried.
But this time, he didn't leave money.
He left questions.
Nilla stood there, still gripping the counter, heart hammering against her ribs. Her co-worker, Tasha, slid beside her with a smirk.
"Who was that?"
"Trouble," Nilla said automatically.
"Rich trouble, from the looks of it."
Nilla exhaled, pretending to laugh. "The worst kind."
But later, when the lights dimmed and the dancers took their final bows, she caught herself glancing toward the door again. The space he'd stood in felt empty like he'd taken something invisible with him.
She didn't know his name. She didn't know why he looked at her like that. But she knew one thing for sure men like him didn't chase girls like her. They got what they wanted and moved on.
And yet…
That night, when she locked up the bar and stepped into the quiet alley, she found a small black card tucked into the side of the door.
No note. Just a name embossed in silver:
**Jax Donovan.**
And beneath it, a phone number.
Her fingers tightened on it. Her mind said no, but her pulse whispered maybe.
The rain started to fall, soft and steady, kissing her skin with cold. Nilla tilted her face toward the sky, the neon glow reflecting in her dark eyes.
"Don't," she whispered to herself. "Don't fall for a man like that."
But fate had already decided otherwise. Somewhere above the city lights, destiny had just placed its bet and the stakes were higher than either of them could imagine.