"Tomorrow, Bianca Carter would be polished-perfection, her heartbreak safely hidden beneath a sharp suit, her name on a glass door spelling redemption. Tonight, though, the city pulsed like a live wire beneath her skin, full of a hundred dangerous kinds of freedom."
"Come on, B," Ava urged, eyes bright as she leaned over the upper deck at the Ace club. Manhattan's skyline spilled out behind her, all diamonds and broken promises. "It's your first night as a New Yorker; this is not a law school study grind. When was the last time you actually loosened up, had some fun, did something reckless?"
The champagne bubbled on her tongue, sharp and bright.
"The truth?"
"Not since you know who". Not since she'd bent herself to fit the life he wanted, until she walked in and found him tangled in bed with her boss. Two betrayals for the price of one.
"That's what I thought." Ava's tone softened. "He made you doubt everything. Tonight isn't about him. It's about reminding yourself you're not disposable."
Bianca tried a faint smile. "Tonight's about celebrating my new job."
"Exactly!" She clinked her glass. "New city, new start. But first, one night to burn the past and live a little. Tomorrow, you impress the partners. Tonight, you just get to be the old Bianca I know."
All around, beautiful people lounged beneath a golden glow. Designer shoes, high laughter, music pulsing with secrets and shadow. The old Bianca would have felt out of place. The new Bianca was just tired, tired of being cautious, tired of being the girl who played it safe and lost anyway.
Ava's gaze sharpened. "There!" She jerked her chin, a grin spreading. "Do not look. Actually, do. You have to."
Bianca followed Ava's not-so-subtle direction. Her heartbeat stuttered.
At the far end of the bar, a man stood alone. Everything about him was precision, broad-shouldered in a charcoal suit, fingers wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey. He wore confidence like tailored armor.
And he was looking directly at her.
Blood rushed to Bianca's cheeks. She dropped her gaze, heart hammering. "Real smooth, Ava."
"He's been watching you since we walked in. Girl, that is interesting. I dare you to go talk to him."
Bianca hesitated; the last man she'd trusted, cost her everything. "We aren't in college anymore."
"No, we're women who call the shots. Your ex made you forget what it felt like to be wanted. Tonight, that changes."
Another sip of champagne. For courage. Bianca risked another glance. The stranger's eyes were steady, appraising but not predatory.
"What would I even say?"
"'Hi' works." Ava's voice was gentle. "Your new life starts tomorrow. Tonight is just for you."
Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the weight of her ex's careless, unapologetic glance. She was done being collateral damage in someone else's story.
She stood, shaky but defiant. "If this goes sideways, you're buying the next round."
"If it goes sideways, I'll buy the bar," Ava grinned.
Crossing to the bar, Bianca felt every gaze. She could leave. She could play it safe. Instead, she stopped a breath away from him, forcing herself not to fidget.
Up close, he was even more striking. Dark hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes, ice-blue, thoughtful, wary.
"I'm told that 'hi' usually works," Bianca said, startled at her own boldness.
A corner of his mouth rose. "Hi." His voice was low, a refined British accent that cut through the noise.
"I'm Bianca," she offered.
"Eddie." He mirrored her. It felt like an agreement.
She gestured toward Ava, who was now pretending not to watch. "My friend dares me into bad decisions sometimes."
His gaze didn't leave her. "I'm glad she did."
"Does that line usually work for you?"
He shrugged, a small, disarming motion. "I don't know. I've never tried it before. I don't come to bars looking for strangers."
"Neither do I. What changed?"
"Tonight," he said, his voice dropping, "I'm making an exception." He gestured to the barstool beside him. "Can I buy you a drink, Bianca-who-is-being-dared?"
"Champagne. I'm celebrating."
He signaled the bartender. "To new beginnings, then."
She touched her glass to his. "And to a night of being reckless."
His answering grin held all the promise in the world. "Then let's make it unforgettable."
They drank. They talked. The noise of the bar faded into a dull roar, the city lights blurring behind him. He didn't ask her what she did. Neither did she ask him. They talked about the city, about running from things, about the strange relief of being anonymous. It was the most honest conversation she'd had in a while.
He finished his whiskey and set the glass down with a decisive click. His blue eyes held hers, and the air between them crackled.
"Is this reckless enough for you, Bianca?"
Her pulse leaped. This was the moment. The precipice. "I'm starting to think it's not."
The words hung in the air, a challenge he didn't hesitate to meet. A slow, appreciative smile touched his lips. He stood, the full force of his presence pulling her focus. He was tall, his suit impeccable, but there was a raw, controlled energy under the surface that had her leaning in.
"An unforgettable night doesn't happen at a crowded bar."
He held out a hand. Not to take hers, but as an invitation.
This was the choice. The old Bianca, the one her ex betrayed, would have made an excuse and fled to safety. The girl who lost her father and fought her way out of misery would have called it a stupid risk.
But the woman standing here, the one who was tired of being careful, just nodded. "Lead the way, Eddie."
The walk from the bar to the elevator was a charged, silent blur. Ava was forgotten. The new job was forgotten. There was only the solid line of his back and the heat radiating between them.
The elevator ride up was a roaring vacuum. They didn't speak, didn't touch. They just stared at the elevator.
He swiped a key card. The door to his penthouse suite clicked open.
Bianca stepped inside. The city skyline exploded in front of her, a wall of glass overlooking the world. It was quiet, luxurious, and completely terrifying.
He closed the door, the sound a soft, definitive thud.
He hadn't touched her yet. He just watched her, his expression unreadable, as if giving her one last chance to run.
She turned to face him, and this time, there was no hesitation. She was done running.
"One last night," she whispered, as much for herself as for him.
His mouth was on hers before the words faded, one hand tangling in her hair, the other pressing into the small of her back, pulling her against him. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a collision, desperate, hungry, and absolute. It was the taste of champagne and whiskey, of shared secrets and a mutual need to feel something.
Tomorrow, Bianca Carter will be a polished, professional attorney.
But tonight, she was his.