Chapter 7
Jessie had insisted they go out tonight, dragging Ariana to one of the hottest nightclubs in the city. A place where no one cared about business empires, family legacies, or half-brothers. Here, they could just be two young women looking for a good time. And for a while, Ariana tried to lose herself in the music, to let the pounding bass drown out her thoughts.
But even surrounded by strangers, with lights flashing and the scent of alcohol and sweat thick in the air, Ariana couldn't escape the gnawing weight in her chest.
Jessie appeared beside her, two brightly colored cocktails in hand. She handed one to Ariana with a grin, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Here, drink this. I promise it'll help you loosen up."
Ariana took the glass, eyeing it warily. "What is it?"
"Does it matter?" Jessie laughed, raising her own drink in a toast. "To forgetting everything tonight. To letting go."
Ariana hesitated for a moment, then raised her glass and clinked it against Jessie's. "To forgetting," she echoed, the words heavy on her tongue. She downed the drink in one gulp, the sharp burn of alcohol cutting through the haze of her thoughts.
Jessie grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. "Come on, you need this."
The thumping beat of the music pulsed through Ariana's veins as she followed Jessie into the throng of bodies. At first, she moved stiffly, her mind still tethered to the weight of everything she was trying to forget. But as the alcohol worked its way through her system, loosening the tension in her muscles, she found herself swaying to the rhythm, letting the music guide her movements.
For a moment, it worked. She lost herself in the beat, in the flashing lights and the press of bodies around her. She was no longer Ariana Collins, heir to a business empire, sister to a man she barely knew, burdened by secrets she couldn't unravel. She was just another face in the crowd, dancing away her troubles.
But the illusion didn't last long.
As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, the room began to spin. The faces around her blurred together, and the music became a distant thrum in the back of her mind. Ariana stumbled away from the dance floor, her head swimming, and found herself leaning against the bar for support.
"Are you okay?" a deep voice asked from beside her.
Ariana turned, her vision blurry, and found herself looking up at a tall, dark-haired man with piercing green eyes. He was handsome in a rugged, dangerous sort of way, his sharp jawline shadowed by stubble, his black shirt clinging to his muscular frame.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, her words slurring together. She wasn't fine, though. She was far from it. But she didn't want to admit that to a stranger.
"You don't look fine," the man said, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against her arm. "Do you need help getting out of here?"
Ariana shook her head, trying to clear the fog in her mind. "No, I I just need a moment."
The man didn't move away. His presence was overwhelming, his eyes dark and intent as they bore into hers. "Come on, I can help you. Let me take you somewhere quieter."
Ariana's heart raced. There was something off about the way he was looking at her, the way his hand lingered on her arm. Her instincts screamed at her to pull away, to leave, but her limbs felt heavy, sluggish. The alcohol dulled her senses, making it harder to think clearly.
"I'm fine," she repeated, this time more firmly, trying to step back.
But the man didn't let go. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make her pulse quicken with fear. "I insist," he said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Come with me."
Panic flared in Ariana's chest. She opened her mouth to protest, to shout for Jessie, but before she could say anything, another figure appeared beside her.
"She said no," a deep, commanding voice growled.
The dark-haired man froze, his grip loosening on Ariana's arm as he turned to face the newcomer. Ariana blinked, her vision still blurry, but she could make out the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing beside her. His presence was imposing, his voice filled with a dangerous edge.
It was him.
Ariana's heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on her. The man who had come to her rescue was the same one from the night she'd tried so hard to forget. The stranger she had slept with. The one who had turned her world upside down.
His eyes flicked toward her, a storm of emotions swirling behind them. Anger, frustration, and something else something darker. "Let her go," he said again, his voice low but filled with authority.
The dark-haired man hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting between Ariana and her rescuer, before finally releasing her arm. "Whatever, man," he muttered, stepping back. "She's not worth the trouble."
Without another word, the man disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ariana standing there, shaken and breathless.
She swayed on her feet, her vision spinning again, and the stranger the man she had tried so hard to run from reached out to steady her. His grip was firm but gentle, and despite everything, she felt a strange sense of safety in his presence.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, the anger from moments before fading into concern.
Ariana nodded weakly, though she wasn't sure if she was okay. The room was still spinning, and her mind was a jumbled mess of confusion and fear. "I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't let go of her, his hand still steadying her as he looked down at her with a mixture of frustration and something else she couldn't quite place. "You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, his tone more controlled now. "It's not safe."
Ariana's head throbbed, the alcohol clouding her thoughts. "Why do you care?" she asked, her voice tinged with bitterness. "You don't even know me."
His eyes darkened at her words, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "I know more than you think."
Before she could respond, a wave of dizziness washed over her, and her legs gave out beneath her. The stranger caught her before she could hit the ground, his arms wrapping around her as he lifted her effortlessly.
"Come on," he muttered, his voice strained. "You need to get out of here."
Ariana wanted to protest, to tell him she could take care of herself, but the alcohol had drained the fight from her. She leaned into his chest, her head spinning as he carried her through the crowd, his presence a strange mixture of comfort and danger.
As the cool night air hit her face, Ariana blinked, trying to focus on the world around her. The lights of the city blurred together, the sounds of the nightclub fading into the distance. She was aware of the man holding her, his grip firm but protective, and a thousand questions swirled through her mind.
Who was he? Why was he here? And why, despite everything, did she feel an undeniable pull toward him?