"That," she said slowly, "is exactly what I need."

Izzy whooped softly. "Knew it."

"I'm in the mood for something strong," Olivia admitted. "Very strong. Possibly with a lime. Or three."

"Say less. Tequila it is."

"Oh God," Olivia groaned, though the heaviness in her chest had lightened by a fraction.

"Nine o'clock?" Izzy continued. "The Velvet Hour. Dress hot. Or comfortable. Or emotionally chaotic. Whatever vibe you're feeling."

Olivia glanced down at herself - rumpled blouse, skirt slightly creased from a full day of viewings. Emotionally chaotic sounded about right. "Nine's perfect." She said,

"Good. And Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't sound fine."

The softness in Izzy's voice made her throat tighten again. "I'm not," she admitted quietly.

A beat of silence.

"Then tonight," Izzy said firmly, "we fix that. Or at least numb it."

Olivia let out a breath that felt like it had been lodged in her lungs all day."Thank you, Izzy."

"Always."

They hung up, and the apartment didn't feel quite as suffocating anymore. Olivia walked toward her bedroom, phone still in her hand.

Nine o'clock. Three hours to shower off the day, paint on confidence, and pretend her heart didn't feel like it was splintering. As she laid her phone on the dresser, the screen lit up briefly from a delayed notification.

Her pulse jumped. She snatched it up.

Spam email.

She exhaled slowly, disappointment cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Still nothing from Jack.

Fine. Tonight she wouldn't wait for him to show up. Tonight she would show up for herself. And maybe, just maybe, forget her troubles with Jack... And the sound of Derek Hawthorne's voice saying no harm, no foul.

Because harm? She was feeling plenty of it already.

_________

The apartment felt different now. Not lighter - not exactly - but purposeful.

Olivia stood in front of her mirror, the soft yellow glow of her bedroom lamp casting warmth over her skin. Music pulsed quietly from her speaker, something upbeat enough to drown out intrusive thoughts. Her bed was a mess of discarded outfit options - dresses deemed "too desperate," skirts labelled "too effort," and one soft sweater she'd briefly considered before deciding she refused to look like heartbreak tonight.

She chose the jeans. High-waisted, dark, fitted in all the right places. Knee-high black boots that gave her height and edge. And the black corset top - structured, unapologetic, hugging her waist and lifting her posture whether she felt strong or not.

She stared at herself for a moment.

Then she sat and began the real armor. Smokey eye. Dark, intentional, slightly dramatic. She blended until her sadness looked like seduction. A sharp line of eyeliner. Red lipstick - bold, dangerous, defiant. If her heart felt bruised, no one would see it.

When she stood again, she looked... hot. Undeniably so. Not fragile. Good.

She grabbed her bag and ordered a taxi. Driving was out of the question. Not with the kind of drinking she planned to do tonight. Not with the kind of night she needed. And honestly? She didn't trust herself to be alone with her thoughts behind a steering wheel.

By the time the taxi pulled up outside The Velvet Hour, the street was alive.

The sign glowed in deep crimson against black brick. Bass from inside vibrated faintly through the pavement. Laughter spilled out every time the door opened. She paid the driver, stepped out, and inhaled deeply. Tonight, she would not think about Jack.

It was 9:30 when she walked in. Dim lighting. Gold accents. Velvet booths lining the walls. The air smelled faintly of citrus, perfume, and something expensive and smoky.

It didn't take long to spot her friends. Tessa was already mid-laugh, head thrown back, her blonde waves cascading over her shoulders. Isabella sat opposite her, dark hair sleek and glossy, looking effortlessly polished in a fitted emerald dress. Olivia slid into the booth and both heads snapped up.

"Well," Tessa breathed dramatically. "Who is she?"

Isabella's eyes widened as she slowly looked Olivia up and down. "Liv Carter, are we seducing someone or ruining someone?"

Olivia smirked. "Can't it be both?"

They all burst into laughter, the sound warm and immediate and grounding.

"You look illegal," Tessa added.

"You look like trouble," Isabella corrected.

Olivia slid her small bag onto the table. "Good."

Tessa immediately waved down a waiter. "Hi, yes," she said sweetly. "We'll take shots."

The waiter blinked. "How many?"

Tessa glanced at Olivia. "How bad was the day?"

Olivia considered. "Scale of one to ten?"

"Sure."

"Jack."

Tessa didn't hesitate. "We'll take six. To start."

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

"Love that for us," Isabella said, adjusting her bracelet.

The shots arrived quickly. Clear liquid in neat little glasses, lime wedges on a small plate beside them. They didn't wait. Glasses clinked.

"To bad decisions," Tessa declared.

"To better ones," Isabella corrected.

Olivia lifted hers last. "To not thinking." she said

They drank. The burn was immediate. Sharp and cleansing, but they didn't stop at one. By the third round, the music felt louder and Olivia felt warmer. Looser. The tight band around her chest had eased... not gone, but blurred. And that was when Tess leaned back against the booth and narrowed her eyes.

"Right," she said. "Time for your Intervention... As promised,"

Olivia groaned and pouted. "Nooo"

"Yes," Isabella chimed in smoothly. "We postponed. We did not cancel."

Tessa pointed at her with a lime wedge. "Jack is a walking red flag."

Olivia laughed lightly. "He is not."

"He cancels on you constantly."

"He's busy."

"He didn't call after your fight." Tessa told her, "You said so in your text this morning,"

Olivia hesitated slightly before forcing a casual shrug. "Maybe... He needs space to think after what I told him,"

Isabella leaned forward, voice gentler now but firm. "Liv, you can do better."

The alcohol softened the sting of their words, but not entirely. Olivia smiled - calm, composed, and slightly flushed. "He's not that bad. He's just... bad at priorities. And communication. And timing."

Tessa stared at her. "You hear yourself, right?" she asked.

Olivia let out a small laugh. "We had a fight. It's fine. We'll fix it."

Isabella tilted her head. "Then why were you so sad when I called? I know it was about him."

That hit, and Olivia's smile faltered for half a second. "I was just tired," she said, softer now. "We argued. It happens. It's not the end of the world."

Tessa's eyes softened as well, but she didn't back down. "Liv-"

Olivia raised her hands lightly in surrender. "Please. I came out tonight to forget about him. Not dissect him. Can we not do this anymore tonight?"

There was a pause, then Tessa exhaled and lifted her shot glass again. "Fine, Liv," she said loudly. "I agree. We'll drop it for now, but only because you definitely need to loosen up and have some bloody fun."

And just as she said it -

A male voice cut smoothly into their space. "I can definitely help her with that..."

All three of them turned.

He stood beside the booth like he'd been summoned by the word fun itself. Tall. Broad shoulders under a dark button-down rolled at the sleeves. A drink in one hand. The other casually tucked into his pocket. His jaw sharp under the low amber lighting.

And that smile. Lazy. Confident. Slightly wicked. But it was his eyes that mattered. They weren't on Tessa, or on Isabella. They were glued on Olivia. Steady. Assessing, and definitely Interested.

Derek Hawthorne.

__________

For a split second, the noise of the bar dimmed.

It didn't actually fade - the bass still thudded, glasses still clinked, laughter still burst from nearby tables - but inside Olivia's head, everything narrowed to one point.

Him.

Her pulse kicked hard against her ribs, sudden and violent - whether from alcohol or the shock of seeing him, she couldn't tell. What the hell was he doing here, she thought, as every other thought flew right out of her head. And worse - why did her body react like this?

Oh... This was not good. Not when she was already two shots in. Not when her emotions were hanging by a thread. Not when she'd come here specifically to forget complications, not invite new ones.

She heard Tessa mutter under her breath, "Oh, this should be illegal." as she stared at Derek and couldn't even blame her friend.

Derek Hawthorne stood there like he belonged in the dim amber lighting. Effortlessly put together. Effortlessly dangerous. The man was too damn attractive for his own good or anyone else's for that matter.

"How's the evening going, ladies?" Derek asked smoothly. His voice was rich, controlled and entirely too confident. He finally dragged his gaze away from Olivia to address the table, and only then did she realize she'd been holding her breath. "Having fun?"

Isabella blinked at him. "You said you'd leave us alone, Derek." There was a slight frown on her face, but no real heat behind it. More sibling irritation than genuine annoyance.

Derek placed a hand over his chest dramatically. "Oh, come on, Izzy." He even pouted - actually pouted - in a way that would've been ridiculous on any other man. On him, it was annoyingly charming. "It's boring being alone here. I have no friends in this town. Everyone's gone now."

"Then make new ones," his sister shot back smoothly. "Or find some woman to pick up. You're very good at that."

Olivia didn't miss the pointed tone. Derek ignored it completely, and once again, his eyes slid back to her.

"So..." he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "She's finally here."

Her stomach flipped. He had known she was coming? She raised a brow at Isabella.

Isabella sighed. "He said he wanted to go out too. I told him he could come - as long as he stayed away from us, so I don't know why he's back here."

Derek gave an innocent shrug.

"Oh relax," Tessa chimed in, grinning. "His company is not all that bad."

"Thank you, Tessa," Derek declared grandly. Before anyone could stop him, he leaned over, gently took Tessa's hand in his, and pressed a theatrical kiss to the back of it.

Tessa gasped dramatically, cheeks flushing bright pink. "Stop it."

Olivia nearly rolled her eyes. Isabella didn't nearly. She fully did, and almost sent her eyeballs to the back of her head.

"Save your charms for your bimbos and twinkies, Derek." She told her brother.

He chuckled, low and unbothered, then moved. Olivia tracked him from the corner of her eye. And then her stomach dropped. He wasn't stepping away. He was stepping toward her.

Her body reacted before her brain did. Her spine straightened, her pulse spiked again, and for half a second she genuinely considered standing up and fleeing to the restroom like a coward.

Too late.

He reached the edge of the booth. And sat beside her. Close. Not touching, but close enough that the heat of him felt deliberate. Her nostrils flared slightly. He smelled... incredible. Something deep and warm. Spiced. Clean. Masculine without being overpowering. The kind of scent that lingered on pillows and in thoughts. She instinctively held her breath. It didn't help. Because he leaned closer.

"Hello again," he said, lifting his glass to his lips. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a slow, knowing smile. Then he leaned just enough that his words were meant for her alone. "Happy to see me?"

Her throat felt suddenly dry. "Hello, Derek," Olivia managed, forcing her voice into something resembling calm.

She was not in the right mental state for this. Not tonight. Not when Jack was already a storm in her head. But the way Derek looked at her - like he was studying her, not just seeing her - made something inside her unravel.

"Izzy and Tessa mentioned they were doing some kind of... intervention," he continued lightly. "Are they done? Because I'd like to join in and point out a few things I've observed myself."

Her head snapped toward him. "It's none of your business," she replied, aiming for sharp, but it came out softer than she intended. Damn tequila.

Tessa straightened slightly. "Actually-"

"Tess," Olivia warned, shooting her a look.

Tessa immediately lifted both hands in surrender, though her grin suggested she absolutely would've betrayed her.

Derek laughed. It wasn't mocking. It was amused. "Fine," he said easily. "I won't push."

But he didn't move away. His arm brushed lightly against hers, barely there, but enough to send awareness crackling across her skin.

Again, that scent. That warmth. Her body felt suddenly hyper-aware of everything - the line of his thigh near hers, the subtle flex of his forearm as he adjusted his glass, the way his presence filled the small space without effort.

He was too strong to resist, too solid to ignore or pretend he didn't affect her.

Her mind whispered Jack.

Her body didn't listen.

Screw it, she thought.

If she was going to sit here next to Mr. Ruggedly-Too-Attractive while her relationship hung by a fraying thread, she needed insulation. Numbing. Distance.

Right on cue, the waiter returned with another round of shots. The glasses landed on the table with a soft clink.

Olivia didn't hesitate. She reached for one immediately, fingers wrapping around cool glass and lifted it before anyone could say a word.

If this night was going to spiral...She might as well meet it halfway.

They all watched her finish the drink.

The tequila burned on the way down, sharp, and punishing, but she welcomed it. It gave her something solid to focus on. Something that wasn't Derek sitting inches away. Something that wasn't Jack not calling.

Before anyone could comment, she reached for another shot but she didn't get far. Derek's hand came down over hers. His fingers wrapped around her hand completely, dwarfing it. Warm. Solid. The pad of his thumb pressed lightly against her knuckles as if anchoring her there.

A current shot straight up her spine and her breath caught in her throat.

His palm was broad. Hard. Calloused in a way that suggested he used his hands for more than just signing documents. His fingers were long - of course they were long. He was tall, built, everything about him scaled larger than life. What the hell did she expect?

It didn't stop her mind from betraying her though. From wondering - vividly, and traitorously - what those hands would feel like elsewhere. At her waist. At her throat. Spanning her hip.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and It took her a full second to realize he'd spoken. "What?" she asked, a little too quickly, almost embarrassed.

Derek's eyes held hers, steady and assessing. "Go easy on the drinks," he said quietly. "If you go too fast, the effect hits harder. Faster. And you won't actually enjoy it."

His voice was low, almost lost beneath the music, but she heard every word. That didn't sound like a terrible idea. Except she didn't want to enjoy it properly. She wanted it to hit hard. To blur edges. To dull awareness. Especially with him this close... with his hand still wrapped around hers like it belonged there.

Her pulse thudded louder. Abruptly, she pulled her hand back, and the contact broke like a snapped wire. She half expected him to look offended with the way she'd withdrawn.

He didn't. But the way his eyes lingered on her, sharp, and attentive, told her he noticed everything. "Are you alright?" he asked.

And damn it, there was real concern in his voice and expression. That almost made it worse. What was she supposed to say? 'No, actually. My relationship is cracking in slow motion and I can't stop reacting to you like my body didn't get the memo that I'm taken.'

Instead, she asked quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem tense," he replied," Well, you were the other day when we met, but it seems to be on another level tonight,"

Olivia shook her head, "I'm fine. Thanks."

A lie. Thin and fragile. Derek studied her for a moment longer, like he was debating calling it out. Then he smiled. "Good," he said softly.

He didn't push, and she was thankful for that. The music shifted then - bass heavier, rhythm faster. A popular song exploded through the speakers and cheers rose from different corners of the bar. More people flooded the dance floor, bodies swaying under strobes of gold and crimson light.

"Let's go dance, you guys!" Tessa shouted over the music, already halfway out of the booth.

"Yessss!" Isabella agreed instantly, sliding out beside her.

Olivia forced a smile. Under normal circumstances, she would've followed. Dancing with her girls, losing herself in movement - that had been the plan. But the alcohol was beginning to bloom fully now... warm and heavy in her veins, her head just slightly too light. And Derek's presence next to her felt like standing too close to a live flame.

"I'll join you soon," she told them. "You guys go ahead."

Both Tessa and Isabella paused. Their eyes moved to Derek. Silence.

Derek lifted his hands slightly in mock surrender. "I'll stay here and make sure she's okay."

Tessa's grin widened immediately. Isabella, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes at him in clear warning. Then she turned to Olivia. "We'll give you a few minutes," she said pointedly. "After that, we're coming back to drag you to the dance floor."

Olivia chuckled lightly. "Sure."

"Remember why we came here in the first place, Liv?" Isabella added.

To forget. To loosen up. To stop thinking about Jack. "Yeah," Olivia said. "I remember."

But she suddenly wished that she'd agreed to go with them. She'd assumed Derek would follow them to the dance floor. That was her mistake. From what little she knew of him, Derek Hawthorne didn't follow. He stayed exactly where he wanted to be, and he could be quite persistent as well as charming

Tessa and Isabella disappeared into the crowd, already moving to the music, hands in the air, laughing.

And just like that it was quiet again. Not literally. But between them. Derek leaned back slightly against the booth, one arm draped along the backrest behind her. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her shoulder.

"You don't look fine," he said after a moment. No teasing this time. No charm. Just quiet certainty.

Olivia stared straight ahead at the dance floor - flashing lights, moving bodies, freedom she suddenly felt excluded from. "I said I was," she replied.

"I don't believe you."

Her jaw tightened as she turned to face him. "Well, I don't care," she told him. "If you're going to sit here with me and bother me, then you should consider taking some shots and staying out of my business because clearly I don't want to talk about it,"

For a second she thought she'd sounded a bit harsh, but she shoved the thought away. She was frustrated with the way she felt around him. For God's sake she knew nothing about this man, except that he was Izzy's brother and that he was nothing like any man she knew. That was obvious at a glance. He was too...intense. Too controlled, in a way that sent alarms ringing through her whole body, straight down into her toes.

Dangerous, that same something in her whispered, and she didn't need danger in her life. All her life she'd avoided men like him who she considered trouble. She preferred safe... And nothing about Derek Hawthorne was safe.

His eyes narrowed, and then to her surprise he laughed, and surprised her once again by reaching for one of those shots.

"Cheers," he said, and emptied the contents into his mouth.