⚠️ WARNING: The following scene contains explicit romantic and intimate content.

Amber POV

The man didn’t answer immediately. His eyes trailed me slowly, as if he could read every intention I hadn’t yet decided to have. Each second stretched, unnerving me, as I waited for this man's verdict. A silent, desperate voice in my head prayed I wouldn't end up more embarrassed than betrayed.

His eyes dropped to the shot glass in my hand, then rose back to meet mine.

“A toast?” he repeated, his voice deep and amused. “To what?”

My mouth went dry, my brain still buzzing from alcohol, as I struggled to come up with a reasonable response.

A small, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, an intense glint flashing in his eyes.

“Can’t figure it out?” he murmured.

I huffed out a weak laugh, rubbing my shoulders as my neck heated up. “You could say that.”

He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Sit. Let’s figure it out.”

My pulse fluttered at the firmness beneath his words, and I sat, placing the glass on the table and rubbing my palms together. From this corner, the bar noise softened, fading into the background like we’d stepped into a different world entirely. Now I could see him up close, and study his striking features.

“You look like you’re celebrating something,” he began.

“Really? I’m trying to,” I admitted, my voice low against the hum of the bar. “I broke up.”

His brow arched. “Is that so?”

I nodded, and he leaned forward, signaling to the waiter. “Then we’re celebrating your freedom. We need something better than this.”

The waiter returned, and he whispered something into his ear, nodding and leaving. The waiter then returned with a tray of champagne, and I let out a small gasp, watching as he placed two glasses and poured the wine with precision.

“Isn’t this too much?” I commented.

“For your freedom?” He placed a glass in my hand. “No.”

I reached for the glass, my hands brushing his, and my breath hitched. He only smirked, withdrawing his hand and lifting his own. “To freedom.”

I clinked mine against his, taking a sip with him, though I could still feel his gaze on my mouth. My pulse raced as the intensity of his gaze increased, and I couldn't help but swallow more of the bubbly champagne.

“How long,” he asked, swirling his glass lazily, “have you been trying to forget him?”

The question struck me, my hands freezing mid-air. I lowered my gaze, focusing on the glass which had a small amount of liquid left.

“Not long enough,” I muttered.

Before I could continue talking, I felt his hand swoop under my chin, forcing it to meet his stormy eyes, and my heart stopped.

“Then how can I be of help?” he whispered, causing my stomach to tighten.

“Help… how?” I stuttered, struggling to rein in my thoughts that ran wild from his touch.

He eyed my lips openly this time, before moving lower then back up.

“You already know how. Don’t you, Amber? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He leaned close to my ear, his breath sending tingles down my spine.

I stared at him, unable to pull back from his touch. There was something unsettling about him, the way his eyes tracked my every movement and took complete control of this moment. And yet, rather than being afraid, I was drawn in.

“How do you know my name?” I forced out, unable to deny his words earlier. “I don’t recall telling you since we started talking.”

“I know how you’re looking at me.” His smile deepened, dangerous and private, as his thumb brushed lightly over my lower lip.

I hadn’t noticed, but he was right. His hand now trailed my hair gently, like a silent way of teasing.

“And I know,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath grazed my ear, “that you want a distraction from heartbreak… not small talk.”

He stretched his hand towards me. “So let me be your companion.”

The air thinned between us, heat pooling low and heavy between my legs as I looked into his eyes. However, as I was about to agree, a flicker of responsibility tugged at me.

I placed my hand on his chest, creating distance. “I can’t go… my friends are still here.”

I turned slightly, for the first time since I sat with him, to see my friends' laughter grow louder. The three of them stumbled toward the back of the bar, toward the tiny door with a restroom sign, and staggered in, too drunk to even glance in my direction.

A small knot of panic tightened in me. “I need to check on them…”

“You don’t have to,” he cut in quietly, his voice low as his gaze followed mine. “I'll ensure they are safely taken care of. You, however, are coming with me.”

That single, dominant promise of control was my undoing. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the heartbreak, but suddenly, I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything else in months.

His eyes flicked down, searching for a silent agreement before his hand slid to the back of my neck, warm and firm, and he lifted me.

And without another word, he led me out of the bar.

*********

The room we were in was located above the bar, which surprised me because I didn’t know the bar had places like that. It was small and dark, but I barely had time to register the expensive scent of leather and clean smoke as he placed me on the ground then moved his hands to my waist, pulling me flush against him.

His lips engulfed mine in a claiming kiss, his tongue skillfully dominating mine and shattering my senses. I gulped in air in between, unable to keep up, but the man kept going, pushing my back until I hit the wall.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, heat suffocating every thought I’d ever held about being “proper and gentle.” Since he was meeting my rebellion with dominance, I had only one option: escalate. I wrapped my hands around his neck, pressing my body fiercely against his chest, leaning into the kiss with desperate, bruising intensity.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Amber,” he growled against my lips.

“Bring it on,” I breathed.

That earned me a low chuckle that vibrated straight through me, and he pulled away.

His coat dropped, followed by his jacket, then his shirt, revealing a pair of chiseled chests and six-pack abs. He eyed my figure shamelessly, eliciting a small gasp as his hands slid to the V-neck of my gown, over my breast, then to my back to zip it down.

The dress slid off, revealing my figure, and the coldness of the room hit my skin. He wrapped his arms around me, trailing kisses down my neck.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against my skin.

“I’m drunk,” I replied, tilting my head for more access.

“You’re turned on,” he corrected, sliding his hands to slip through my underwear, eliciting a low moan from me. “You were already soaking wet while we were talking… weren’t you?”

His hands slipped in before I could speak, and all thoughts in my head fizzled out as he began moving in and out, and my nails dug into his skin.

“Please,” I whispered, my throat dry as the pleasure made me weak in my knees.

“You want me. Say it, Amber,” he ordered, his voice a gravelly demand.

I managed a breathless nod. “Yes… I want you. Please,” I repeated the desperate word, my mind blurring as he lifted me like I weighed nothing.

He moved to the bed, dropping me to bounce against it. His firm hands gripped my breasts, kneading them harshly whilst the other hand slipped my pants off. I was a mess, letting out breathless moans as his lips found my heat, sucking it mercilessly.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, and my legs flew apart, though they wanted to close. I fell powerless to the bed while he went deeper.

He went on, switching between his hands and his lips, and by the time he was done, I was already mentally far away. I wanted to speak out, but I felt a harder length press against my entrance.

“Wait… I’m not…” I said faintly, looking up to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dangerously dark and attractive, his breaths in shallow bursts as he stroked his shaft slowly. The veins on it throbbed, and the tip was already leaking, making me feel the urge to lick it up.

He released it, propping his hands by my sides to hover above me, his eyes glinting with something wicked.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. How rude of me,” he remarked, trailing his fingers around my thighs.

Suddenly, he gripped each thigh, wrapping it around his waist, and pressing his shaft against my clit. He moved slowly, lubricating it with the juices that squirted out from me, while seizing my lips in a slow kiss.

This man was definitely more dangerous than I thought.

“Can I f*** you?” he uttered in my ears, his breath fanning against my skin and sending shocks through my body.

This was crazy… He is crazy. But then again, the past 24 hours had been crazier than I expected. So what was one more thing to add to that list? I was gaining something this time as well.

“Yes, please,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his with resolution.

And from then on, the rest of the night was a blur of kisses, manhandling, breathless moans, and a man who ruined me thoroughly.

Amber’s POV

My head was pounding before my eyes even opened, and it was more than the usual headaches I have. The pain was sharp and pulsing, the kind that comes as punishment after making wrong choices.

I groaned, pressing my palm to my forehead, forcing my eyes open to see the low lighting, feel the soft sheets on my skin, and then a scent of clean smoke I didn’t recognize at first. That is, until I turned my gaze to the bare chest beside me, and my stomach plummeted.

Oh God, no.

The memories from last night flickered back in cruel fragments: the champagne, his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, and the way I’d shamelessly begged for more of him. I slapped a hand over my mouth as shame washed over me, hot and sour.

“What have I done?” I whispered, lifting the sheets higher to cover the redness of my cheeks.

In all my movements, the man remained unmoving. I turned slowly to face him, letting out a breath of relief on seeing that he was just deeply asleep, an arm thrown over his head with an unnerving, absolute calm that seemed impossible after the violence of our night.

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I squeezed my legs together as those vivid memories of him inside me filled my head once again. One thing was certain: he was very capable, because I had not felt this… satisfied in months, even with Liam.

I cringed at my thoughts, especially because I allowed someone I barely knew to sleep with me and I didn’t even know his name. And worse, I had let him take me away while my friends were heavily drunk and unaware of their surroundings. I’d trusted a stranger’s promise without a second thought.

A wave of panic shot through my body.

“What if they never made it home like he said? What if something happened to any of them?” Questions flew through my mind.

I sat up too quickly, eliciting a sharp pain from my clit up my body and worsening the already pulsing pain in my head.

“Shit,” I said, placing both hands on the bed to steady myself as the room spun around me.

Once the pain reduced, I pressed a hand to the wall, standing up with every strength I could muster. Every part of me ached now that I was standing; my thighs, hips, shoulders.

I glanced at the man in the bed again, watching him sleep like someone who’d been perfectly sedated. While a part of me wanted to be concerned, the other saw this as a blessing because he wouldn’t see me leave.

I limped away from the bed, scanning the room for my dress and my underwear. I found my dress, a silk casualty, crumpled on the floor, the zipper slightly torn. I winced as I pulled the ruined fabric over my aching body. After that, I searched for my panties but couldn't find it so I picked what I could find, which were my shoes by the door, and my bag which was half-open, lip gloss sprawled out along with my phone.

I winced as I reached for it, trying not to scream from the pain that mounted on my hips, but then my phone lit up with a notification. I saw five missed calls from work and eight unread texts.

Another call came in, and a sharp curse slipped out of my mouth as I covered the speaker quickly to muffle the ringtone, heart racing as I switched it to silent mode. It was currently 10 a.m., which meant I was supposed to be at the office two hours ago.

I was already in trouble with this whole one-night stand thing. Would I also have to walk into the office looking like a hungover raccoon while giving an explanation to HR as well?

Why didn’t I just wait until Friday to go out?

Another text buzzed in from my colleague:

Sonia: Where are you?? The boss is already around and asking for you.

Ice slid down my spine, and I arranged myself as quietly as possible, tiptoeing toward the door. I paused with my hand on the handle, a silent but stupid desire to look behind one last time, to see the man who had been nothing but a shadow of forbidden thrill and seduction in the morning light. But I was already late, so I didn’t.

Instead, I opened the door and slipped out, closing it silently behind me, and then I bolted down the dim hallway, through the club that reeked of last night’s liquor, and into the cold morning air that slapped me hard across the face.

I stopped at the bus stop, ignoring pointed glances from other commuters as I waited for the next bus. Digging my phone out again, I winced at the rough reflection in a dark window and remedied what I could while my mind ran in circles at the next thing to do.

It was already too late to go home, so the best bet was going to resume at work for now. I unlocked my phone, moving to the contacts to call Sonia, as she’s the only person who could help me out now. My legs trembled as I waited for her to pick up, the soreness impossible to ignore as I got on the bus, finally grateful for an opportunity to sit though it was a pain as well.

“Where are you, Amber?” she gritted in my ears, her voice tight on picking up my call. “I stalled for time, but the boss is not in a good mood.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sonia!” I pleaded frantically. “My friends invited me for a night out, and things got crazy. I’m on my way now, but I need a favor.”

I heard a disappointed sigh from the other end. “Girl, you know better. We don’t do that on a weekday!”

“I know, but the situation kind of warranted it,” I added, a weak defense to my crumbling case because I did know better.

The line went silent for a while before she spoke again. “What do you want?”

A wave of relief flooded through me, happy that she was willing to help.

“The thing is, I’m still in my dress because I just left this morning… do you have spare clothes? I can’t come in like this,” I asked, and I heard her let out a sigh.

“I promise to replace them… pinky promise, please,” I continued, making my voice soft so it could melt her heart.

“Fine,” she gave in. “But girl, you got to tighten up. Text me when you get there.”

Shame tightened around my chest as I nodded, thanking her and ending the call. The embarrassment I experienced was because of that Godforsaken man.

And yet… For a man I wanted to forget, he had taken up far too much space in my body… and my mind.

How pathetic. I need to lock in.

I shook my head hard, tapping my cheeks to bring myself out of that moment.

“No,” I muttered to myself. “I’m not tripping over a one-night stand. I need to delete last night from my brain COMPLETELY.

I forced the thought down, burying it deep.

That man was nothing but a mistake; a reckless, impulsive decision I would never repeat.

But deep down… I had a feeling he wouldn’t make it that easy.

Dominic POV

I stirred in bed like someone had poured concrete into my limbs; they were too heavy, which was unusual for me. The sun’s rays shone into my eyes as I opened them, ringing off bells in my head. It was already midday, which meant I slept in far too late.

Wasting no more time, I propped myself up on the bed, ignoring my muscles groaning in protest. I instinctively reached for the small drawer by my side, opening it to see my gun still secured. I reached for my pocket to feel my phone still placed in the exact spot I slipped it in last night.

“What the f*** happened then?” I muttered, my brows pulled as I scanned the room.

My instincts were razor-wired; I don't sleep through the night unless I choose to. I usually detect the shift of air, the slightest weight change, a pin drop. How, then, did I not hear her slip out? That lapse was unacceptable.

Everything looked untouched, and my watch and ring were still on the nightstand. There was also no sign of a hurried search. The only thing that remained was the lingering scent of that woman, and it was sweet and maddeningly addictive.

My jaw tightened as I returned to the bed, gripping the sheets. I was so unguarded that I failed to hear her slip out of my bed and out of my room. Where did she go, and who the hell was she exactly?

What surprised me the most was… Why wasn’t I furious?

My hand stretched further, and I felt something soft brush my fingertips. I glanced in that direction, pulling out a scrap of black lace… Her underwear, which was on my side of the bed.

I froze, last night's events flooding back with a stunning clarity:Her trembling when I peeled it off… the way she arched into my mouth like she was drowning and I was the only air in the room. A deep, guttural sound of satisfaction rumbled in my chest.

She was definitely not a thief or a spy, then. Just embarrassed, which is normal.

A chuckle rippled from my throat at the thought of her scurrying out like a mouse, but a sharp knock sounded, breaking my thoughts.

“Enter,” I commanded, slipping my shirt on as three of my men entered with a deep bow.

Rafe, my right-hand man, stood in the center. He was broad-shouldered, wearing a look that flickered between concern and confusion as he met the calm expression on my face.

“Boss… it’s noon, and you didn’t respond to your check-in. We thought…” he began, and I raised my hand, silencing him.

I didn’t need to hear the rest; they feared I had been poisoned, or worse.

“I’m fine,” I said, pulling on my shirt. “Though I wonder what use you are if it takes you until midday to check on me.”

A chorus of apologies filled the air. They kept their eyes low as I dressed, but I didn’t miss the way they scanned the room, piecing together what happened.

Once I was properly dressed up, I turned to face them. “What about the club?”

“Everything is normal, boss,” Rafe said quickly, handing me a tablet with camera footage. “The lady walked out alone at 10:02 a.m.”

My eyes flickered as I watched her rush out the door. It was exactly as I thought; she was embarrassed.

“Poor thing,” I mused, satisfaction filling me on seeing how she limped.

“Amber,” I murmured, now remembering her name. It was fitting for her.

I thought it was business as usual: have a few drinks downstairs, then pick another entertainment for the night. But Amber proved otherwise; her presence alone had drugged me… her body had unlocked something in me I kept buried.

And after all that, all she left behind was that tiny piece of lace on my bed. I tossed the tablet, picking it up, and rolling it between my fingers… a low chuckle emanating from my chest.

“You can’t disappear on me, little ember.”

My voice dropped to a quiet, lethal rumble. “Find her.”

Rafe stiffened, but I paid no heed, moving past him to pick my things up from the nightstand.

“I want her full name, address, job, and any other thing there is to know about her by the end of today.” I ordered, buckling the Rolex back on my wrist.

Another who had been silent cleared his throat. “Sir Dominic, shouldn’t we be worried she’s connected to the Romano clan? They’ve been hovering…”

“If she were a Romano,” I cut in with a cold laugh, “I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“I want her found by the end of today,” I repeated quieter this time, leaving no room for question.

“Yes, boss,” they chorused, and with a flick of my hand, they turned to leave, shutting the door behind them.

I picked up the lace one more time, crushing it in my fist, feeling the echo of her heat. I then raised it to my nose, inhaling sharply, an ache surfacing below. I wanted her again.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the vibration sharp against the wood. I glanced at the screen, expecting Rafe, but it was a message from a London-based number.

Dante.

I didn't open it, because my cousin was likely sending another one of his scheduled status reports, or a complaint about a missed conference call with the London auditors. Though he was useful, in his own quiet, bureaucratic way, he was a world away from the fire currently burning in my veins.

My hand reached for the lace and I slipped it into my coat pocket, allowing myself a slow smirk.

“Run as far as you can, sweetheart,” I murmured. “But I will find you. And when I do… you won’t slip away so easily again.”

This room, this bar, this city… all of it belonged to me. And Amber Ross? She just made the mistake of thinking she could leave.