Chapter 5

“We can continue at my place,” he said calmly—like he didn’t just do the most outrageous thing a guy could do to me. Like he didn’t just kiss me without asking. Like he didn’t just take full advantage of my shoe’s betrayal and my complete lack of balance, and stupid me. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t push him. I didn’t slap him. I wasn’t even mad. My heart was racing—not from fear, not from anger. From... excitement? Frustration, even. Not because he kissed me, but because he didn’t do it longer.

“I need you to answer,” he said, voice steady. “I won’t take you against your will.”

Bitch!, you already kissed me against my will.

Yet… there I was. Speechless. Like his kiss just sucked the liquor out of my blood and left me standing like a damn lamp post. A very... needy-looking lamp post.

I stared at him, feeling helpless. Hopeless. Like I needed it. Like I needed him. What is actually wrong with me? If I needed any proof that I lacked survival instinct—or even an ounce of Falcone blood—this was it.

Then my head did something stupid. It nodded.

I nodded. Like some background character in a romance movie saying “yes” without a single line of dialogue.

“Say it,” he added, tilting his head just slightly. “Or are you mute?”

Oh hell no.

Did he really just—

Touché.

I took a slow breath and pulled my pride together, or what was left of it anyway.

“Okay, handsome, you’re really overstepping here,” I said, trying to sound firm. “Who do you think you are? Just kissing me like that? I’m pretty sure I didn’t permit you to. And—” I leaned in a little, “if I was a couple months younger, you’d be facing charges for kissing a minor.”

Nailed it.

Actually… no.

I still looked like a blushing idiot trying to pretend she wasn’t completely spun. But hey, I tried. It's the least I could do for my dignity. And then, just like that, he turned and walked away.

Wait—what?

Did I piss him off?

“Hey, wait—where are you going?” I called out, quick-stepping after him, heels wobbling like baby giraffe legs.

He didn’t even glance back. He just kept moving through the crowd, unbothered, cool, like nothing had happened. Which—okay—nothing had, technically, except he kissed me against my will, and I didn’t stop him, and now I was chasing him through a crowd like some lost puppy.

He knew I would chase him.

He knew.

He had me. And yeah i... Or maybe not. Maybe I was curious. That’s all. Just curious. Definitely not falling. Not for a stranger.

I weaved through the crowd, trying not to lose him. His broad shoulders were hard to miss, but my heels had other plans. I almost tripped on someone’s loose jacket and muttered an apology as I stumbled past.

This...guy. This actual menace. He was enjoying this. I could feel it.

By the time I caught up, he was already at the bar. He turned just as I reached him and—without saying a word—draped my jacket over my shoulders like a cape.

Okay.

What on earth was that supposed to mean? Did he just... crown me? Oh, well I deserved it, it's not easy being the queen of fools.

He handed me my purse like it was some royal artifact.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Simple. Like he was my ride or something.

And then—finally—he smiled.

Just a small one. Barely there, but enough. Enough to throw my whole brain off again. It wasn’t cocky. Not exactly. It wasn’t even warm. It was... mysterious.

Like he knew something I didn’t. Like he had something planned. Something that might not be entirely safe, and damn it, I followed him anyway.

I froze as the door clicked shut behind us. The room was nothing like I’d pictured. Not a luxe loft or hidden penthouse—just a single bed pushed against the wall, a bare wooden floor, and one small window letting in the silvery moonlight. Everything was too neat, almost sterile, like a hunting lodge-hotel room. Who lives like this? I wondered. His friend must either be a minimalist monk or broke as hell.

My heart hammered. I should have stopped him. Precious would kill me if she hear about this. Or maybe the opposite, it's been hard to tell how she'd react these days. My own pride was halfway out the door the moment I followed him here. And for what? A kiss with a stranger nobody will remember tomorrow. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just stood there, watching him.

He crossed the room in three long strides—slow and graceful, like he owned the silence. Music droned up from downstairs, low enough that the walls themselves seemed to pulse. He stopped so close I could feel the cold radiating from him, even though the air was warm.

His hand lifted, pale fingers brushing my cheek. He didn’t squeeze or stroke—just held me in place, thumb resting against my temple. I didn’t flinch. I barely even noticed the chill at first. All I could see was his face in the moonlight—his eyes black and steady, full of something I couldn’t name. Curiosity? Hunger? Something deeper that mirrored my own confusion.