Chapter 01

Anna's POV

"I trusted you, Zack." My voice was surprisingly steady as I faced my ex-boyfriend in the hallway of my apartment building. Three months of gathering evidence, of piecing together his lies, had led to this moment.

"Anna, please," he stepped closer, that familiar manipulative softness in his voice. "Whatever you think I did—"

"Think?" I pulled out my phone, showing him the screenshots. "Following Sarah to her yoga class? 'Accidentally' running into Jennifer at her favorite coffee shop? And those late-night drives past my apartment?"

His face changed, that gentle mask slipping to reveal something darker. "You've been investigating me?"

"No, Zack. I've been protecting myself." I thrust the folder at him. "And others."

His face went pale as he flipped through the pages. "You had no right to dig into my private—"

"Private?" I laughed bitterly. "Like how you've been privately stalking multiple women? This isn't love, Zack. It's stalking. It's controlling. And it ends now."

I stepped back, creating distance between us. "Jennifer's filing a police report. Sarah's lawyer will be contacting you. If you ever come near me again, I'm going straight to the police."

His face darkened. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. The SFPD already has copies of everything."

I turned and walked away, my steps firm even as my hands shook. The moment I was around the corner, I called Faith.

"Oh my God, Anna," Faith sighed after hearing everything. "You finally got rid of him. This must have been hard for you."

"Honestly, I feel... relieved," I took a deep breath. "Like I've finally put down a heavy burden."

"Then we definitely need to celebrate," Faith said firmly. "You need to relax, to feel the beauty of life again. No rejections accepted."

Sitting in the upscale bar Faith chose, I slowly sipped my martini. The noisy environment actually made me feel peaceful.

A drunk man stumbled to my side. His cheap cologne was pungent, his shirt wrinkled, his tie hanging askew. I'd seen too many men like this - middle-aged men hunting for targets in bars, thinking a suit could mask their inner vulgarity.

"Hey beautiful, alone?" He grinned, his alcohol-laden breath hitting my face.

I declined politely but coldly, "Sorry, I'm not interested."

"Come on, have a drink with me," he persisted, reaching for my shoulder.

Just then, the entire space seemed to fall silent for a moment. A man walked into the bar.

His presence immediately captured my full attention. His dark suit outlined a perfect physique - broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Every movement spoke of natural authority. This wasn't learned elegance; it was innate.

At the bar, he worked on his phone. His profile could have been carved from marble - sharp jawline, intense blue eyes. I found myself captivated by his focused expression, the slight furrow of his brows, those strong hands moving across the screen.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," the drunk's voice made me frown, interrupting my observation.

Just then, a deep, authoritative voice rang out: "Sir, I believe the lady has made herself clear."

The suited man had somehow appeared beside me. His tall figure radiated dominance, his elegance carrying an undeniable authority. The drunk man visibly cowered under his gaze, mumbling something as he quickly walked away.

"Need any help?" He turned to me, his voice much gentler.

Up close, his charm was even more striking. Perfect features, subtle hints of high-end cologne, and those blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

"Thanks, but I can handle it."

He nodded slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. That smile made my heart skip a beat - it wasn't the practiced charm I was used to seeing, but something more genuine, almost playful.

My phone buzzed. Faith's text made my heart sink: "Emergency! Grandpa's in the hospital - possible heart attack. I have to go. Will call you later. So sorry!"

I watched her rush out, feeling a mix of concern for her grandfather and disappointment at losing my buffer. When I looked up, I found those blue eyes watching me with interest.

"Alone?" He signaled the bartender. The question from his lips was worlds apart from the drunk's crude attempt earlier.

"I am now," I met his eyes.

A subtle tension filled the air. His gaze slowly swept over me, carrying unmistakable appreciation. And I openly admired him too - the firm muscles visible beneath his shirt, the way his long fingers held his glass, and the sexy movement of his Adam's apple when he spoke.

"So..." I swirled my glass, my voice low and alluring, "Do you come here often?"

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips: "Not usually. But tonight seems to be an exception."

"I'm Adrian."

"Anna." I studied him intently. "You know, you're quite different from what you appear to be."

Propping my chin on my hand, I let my raven-black waves cascade down my back. My crimson lips parted slightly, my eyes locked onto his, the desire in my gaze unmistakable.

After a few charged seconds, Adrian chuckled softly. "And what exactly do I appear to be?"

"You don't strike me as someone who would rush to a stranger's aid," I mused, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger.

"Perhaps," he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone, "you're not such a stranger after all."

The air crackled with tension. Ice clinked in the shaker as the bartender prepared our drinks.

Caught in my lingering gaze, Adrian's composure wavered slightly. I could sense his internal struggle - both hoping and fearing that this evening was heading exactly where he suspected.

Our cocktails arrived, garnished with mint. I took a slow, deliberate sip - sweet at first, then bitter, leaving me wanting more.

For a moment, we sat in weighted silence. The simple act of sharing drinks had transformed into something far more significant, loaded with unspoken possibilities.

Adrian's voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Probably." My response was simple, yet carried volumes of meaning in its brevity.

As a woman who had seen her fair share of films, I couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge beneath Adrian's loose sportswear. My eyes lingered there, unashamed.

Swaying my glass, I leaned in closer, my voice low and teasing. "So, Adrian, you're not the type to forget your wallet, are you?"

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why? Worried I can't cover the tab?"

I laughed softly. "Not the tab. Just making sure you're prepared for… whatever comes next."

The photo on his ID, when he pulled it out, looked rougher than the man before me—a white T-shirt, a buzz cut, his features sharp, his skin darker. But there was nothing boyish about him. He exuded a raw, untamed energy.

I raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-two."

"Not that." My gaze flicked downward to his legs.

Adrian glanced down, then smirked. "Sixteen. Enough?"

I handed back his phone. "Plenty."

He countered, "And you?"

I replied coolly, "34D. Think you can handle it?"

The half-meter between us felt like a chasm. Adrian, provoked by my teasing tone, narrowed his eyes, his gaze darkening like a wolf's in the night.

"Want to find out?"

He was impossible to resist.

After finishing half my cocktail, I leaned in, my arm resting on Adrian's shoulder. My lips brushed his ear as I whispered, "Is this your first time?"