Alaina sat in her small hospital office. She rubbed the tight muscles at the back of her neck, exhausted from the long shift.

Her phone vibrated against the wooden desk. The screen lit up with the caller ID: Aunt Judith.

Alaina let out a heavy sigh. She swiped the green button and pressed the phone to her ear.

Aunt Judith's loud, commanding voice immediately filled the speaker, launching into her usual lecture about Alaina's single status.

"I have arranged a dinner for you tonight," Judith announced, leaving no room for argument. "His name is Mark Hoffman. He is a very successful corporate lawyer."

"Aunt Judith, I can't. The hospital has been crazy, I'm too tired," Alaina tried to decline.

"You will go," Judith snapped, using her authority as the family elder. "I am doing this for your own good, Alaina. You cannot work yourself into an early grave alone."

Alaina's mind was still spinning from the image of Jarred's phone wallpaper. She didn't have the energy to fight. She agreed just to get Judith off the phone.

She tossed the phone onto the desk and ran her hands through her hair in frustration.

The next evening, Alaina stood in front of her open closet in her apartment.

She pulled out a simple, well-tailored black silk slip dress. It was elegant but conservative.

Claire leaned against the doorframe, whistling loudly. "Alaina, put this on and you will be the show-stopping Sera of the night! I swear, ever since college, that has been my favorite alter ego for you when you dress to kill."

Alaina offered a weak smile. "Stop with the college nicknames, Claire." She grabbed her clutch, slipped into a beige trench coat, and walked out the door.

She took an Uber to Midtown Manhattan. The car pulled up to an exclusive, members-only restaurant.

Alaina pushed open the heavy glass doors. The sound of soft jazz and the low hum of wealthy patrons filled the air.

A blonde hostess named Anna Bell greeted her with a polished smile and checked her reservation.

Anna gestured gracefully, leading Alaina through the dimly lit, opulent dining room.

Alaina spotted Mark immediately. He was sitting in a corner booth, wearing a sharp grey suit.

Seeing her approach, Mark stood up quickly, flashing an eager smile, and pulled out her chair.

Alaina thanked him politely, sat down, and handed her trench coat to a waiting waiter.

Across the expansive dining room, hidden behind a curtain of crystal beads, sat a VIP semi-private booth.

Jarred was leaning back against the dark leather sofa. He held a crystal glass of whiskey over ice in his right hand.

His friends, Preston Hayes and Lachlan Rhodes, sat across from him, deeply engaged in a conversation about real estate.

Jarred lifted his eyes lazily. His gaze drifted through the gaps in the crystal beads and scanned the main floor.

His eyes locked onto the woman in the black silk dress who had just sat down.

The moment he recognized Alaina, the lazy indifference in Jarred's eyes vanished, replaced by something dark and incredibly dangerous.

He watched the man sitting across from her. He saw the way Mark looked at Alaina-a look full of hungry, possessive appreciation.

Jarred's fingers tightened around the whiskey glass. His knuckles popped loudly.

His hand shook slightly with suppressed rage. The ice cubes clinked sharply against the crystal glass.

Jarred tilted his head back and swallowed the burning liquor in one shot. A violent storm was brewing in his black eyes.

Alaina pushed a piece of steak around her plate. She was bored out of her mind, listening to Mark brag endlessly about a corporate merger he had just won.

Mark leaned forward across the table. He reached his hand out, aiming to cover Alaina's left hand resting near her fork.

Alaina saw the movement. She smoothly picked up her wine glass, taking a tactical sip of water to avoid his touch.

Mark's hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a second before he pulled it back, clearing his throat and continuing his monologue.

Alaina subtly glanced at the watch on her wrist as she set the glass down, calculating how soon she could politely leave.

The agonizing dinner finally ended. Mark signaled the waiter, Marco, for the check.

They stood up. Alaina maintained a strict physical distance as they walked toward the coat check in the front lobby.

At the exact same moment, the heavy velvet curtain of the VIP booth was pushed aside. Preston, Lachlan, and Jarred walked out into the lobby.

Jarred walked in the back. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He radiated a freezing, unapproachable aura.

Preston scanned the lobby. His eyes landed on Alaina waiting by the coat counter.

A bright smile broke across Preston's face. "Alaina!" he called out loudly.

Hearing that familiar voice, Alaina's spine went rigid. She turned around slowly. Seeing Preston's genuinely warm smile, a wave of complicated feelings washed over Alaina. He had always been the kindest of Jarred's friends, a painful reminder of a life she had lost.

After seeing Preston's friendly wave, her eyes inevitably slid to the man standing behind him.

Jarred stepped forward. The light from the crystal chandelier above cast sharp shadows across his strong jawline.

His dark eyes were locked onto her like a predator tracking its prey.

The air in the lobby seemed to evaporate. The temperature plummeted.

Preston, completely unaware of the tension, stepped up and gave Alaina a quick, friendly hug.

Mark immediately stepped closer to Alaina. He puffed out his chest and extended a hand to Preston. "I'm Mark Hoffman. Alaina's date."

At the word date, Jarred's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked visibly. A flash of pure hostility crossed his eyes.

Preston blinked in surprise but shook Mark's hand politely. He then gestured behind him. "These are my friends."

Mark's eyes moved past Preston and landed on Jarred. Recognition hit Mark instantly. He knew the face of the billionaire CEO who dominated the financial news.

Mark's expression morphed into pure sycophancy. He eagerly thrust both his hands toward Jarred.

"Mr. Mcknight, it is an absolute honor to meet you," Mark gushed. "I would love the opportunity to visit your offices sometime."

Jarred looked down at Mark's extended hands. He didn't move a single muscle to reciprocate.

He completely ignored Mark's existence. He shifted his gaze back to Alaina, his posture dripping with arrogance.

Mark's hands hung frozen in the air. His face turned a deep shade of red. He slowly pulled his hands back, thoroughly humiliated.

Desperate to save face, Mark turned to Preston. "So, how do you all know Alaina?"

"We all went to the same Ivy League," Preston smiled. "We're old friends."

A low, dark scoff came from Jarred, slicing through the polite conversation.

Jarred stared directly into Alaina's eyes. His voice was low, heavy, and dripping with double meaning. "Yes. We are very familiar with each other."

Mark let out a nervous laugh, trying desperately to break the suffocating awkwardness caused by Jarred's blatant disrespect.

He turned to Preston and forced a change of subject, asking about Preston's latest venture capital investments.

Preston answered politely for a moment before turning his attention back to Alaina.

"How have things been at the hospital, Alaina?" Preston asked warmly. "Are the shifts still killing you?"

Alaina looked at Preston, grateful for an excuse to pull her eyes away from Jarred's burning stare.

She slipped back into her professional persona. "The surgical schedule has been packed lately. It's exhausting, but good."

Preston's eyes lit up with sudden realization. "Actually, my three-year-old niece, Poppy, is scheduled for cleft lip repair surgery next week at your hospital."

Alaina's defensive posture melted away. Her face softened into an expression of deep focus and care.

She nodded. "I reviewed Poppy's chart this morning. I am the lead surgeon for her case."

Preston exhaled a loud sigh of relief. "Thank God. Knowing she has the top maxillofacial surgeon in New York makes me feel so much better."

Jarred, who had been leaning against a marble pillar, stiffened slightly at the words "top surgeon".

The impenetrable ice in his eyes cracked for a fraction of a second.

He stared at Alaina. He saw the quiet confidence and the brilliant professional light radiating from her face.

The girl who used to study late into the night in his dorm room was now at the absolute top of her field.

A violent mixture of intense pride and sick, twisted possessiveness churned in Jarred's chest.

He forced the emotion down, burying it under his cynical armor.

Jarred let out a harsh, grating laugh. It shattered the warm moment between Alaina and Preston.

"Dr. Strong is still working herself to the bone just to climb the ladder, I see," Jarred drawled slowly.

The insult hit Alaina like a physical blow. He still believed she had left him for money and status.

Alaina straightened her spine. Her hands curled into tight fists at sides.

She met Jarred's aggressive stare head-on. Her eyes were as cold as frost.

"Saving lives requires actual skill, Mr. Mcknight," Alaina said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Not just inheriting a trust fund."

The words struck Jarred's deepest insecurity.

Jarred's eyes turned lethal. The air around him grew heavy and dangerous.

Mark, completely blind to the deadly crossfire, decided to chime in to agree with the billionaire.

"Doctors do work too hard," Mark chuckled. "With your talent, you shouldn't have to burn yourself out like this. A woman as brilliant as you deserves a life of more ease and comfort, letting a man handle the stress, Alaina."

Jarred snapped his head toward Mark. He glared at the lawyer with a look of pure, unadulterated murder.

Mark physically flinched. The rest of his sentence died in his throat.

Alaina felt a wave of absolute disgust toward Mark. She snatched her trench coat from the attendant.

She looked at Mark with dead eyes. "If you think a woman's ultimate goal is to marry a man, then this date is officially over."