Later That Night..
"No, I better stay here. You two go and enjoy the night without me," Sofia said, waving her hand weakly as she sank deeper into the couch.
She didn't have the energy, not after the day she had. All she wanted was to disappear under a blanket and forget the world existed.
"Excuse me?" Elise raised a brow, crossing her arms. "Do you even realize how hard I begged my sister to get us into LUXE tonight? She called in a favor from her boss just for you, Sofia."
Sofia groaned softly, already regretting saying no. She knew that tone. It was the you-don't-get-to-give-up-on-yourself tone.
"It's one night, Sofia," Anne chimed in, plopping down beside her. "One night to dress up, drink something overpriced, and pretend like the world didn't just slap you across the face. You need this."
Sofia opened her mouth to protest, but Anne was already on her feet.
"Nope. No excuses, it's on us, you don't need to worry about the bill." Anne declared. "Go shower. Now."
"Seriously, guys—"
"Shower," they said in unison.
Anne grabbed her hands and practically yanked her up, while Elise walked ahead, digging through Sofia's closet for something she wouldn't dare wear on a normal day.
"You're both insane," Sofia muttered as she let Anne lead her toward the bathroom.
"And you're going," Anne shot back with a grin.
Sofia sighed. There was no winning. She didn't have the strength to fight them tonight, and maybe she didn't want to. Deep down, she knew they wouldn't stop until she said yes. Yet, a part of her didn't want to spend another night alone with her pain.
The city hummed around them, bright lights, distant horns, and the pulse of nightlife echoing off polished concrete and glass towers. Sofia stood in front of the entrance to LUXE, the most exclusive club in the city, and felt like she didn't belong.
She tugged at the hem of the borrowed black dress Elise insisted she wear. It hugged her waist and fell just above her knees. It looked elegant, but bolder than anything she owned. Her heels clicked nervously on the pavement as Anne handed her a tube of lipstick.
"Deep red," Anne said with a wink. "Tonight, you're not the girl who got cheated on. Tonight, you're the girl who made heartbreak look good."
"This still feels a little crazy," Sofia murmured, adjusting her coat. "I'm not...like the women who come here."
"You are now," Elise grinned, looping her arm through hers. "
Before Sofia could argue further, Anne and Elise each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her toward the entrance.
Inside the club was a world apart. Crimson lighting bathed the walls in sensual warmth, and soft jazz fused with the low throb of electronic beats. Wealth floated through the air like expensive perfume. The scent of champagne, ambition, and something unspoken lingered in every corner.
Sofia's breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anything like this. Women glided across the floor in designer gowns, men in tailored suits leaned back in velvet booths, and the staff moved with a kind of practiced elegance that made it impossible to tell who was working and who was simply important.
Sofia wasn't used to going to clubs, especially not ones like LUXE. She barely had time to rest, let alone spend her nights out drinking and dancing. Every cent she earned went to bills, rent, and whatever she could put toward the looming bank notice pinned to her fridge. Enjoyment had become a luxury she couldn't afford.
And yet, here she was—inside the most exclusive place in the city.
She never imagined she'd step foot in a place like this. LUXE wasn't just a club, it was a sanctuary for the elite. No one in her circle ever dared to come here. It wasn't meant for people like them.
But tonight, they got lucky. Elise's older sister, who worked as a VIP hostess, had pulled strings and slipped them a free pass.
"This place is ridiculous," she whispered.
"Ridiculously perfect for letting go," Elise said. "Drink. Dance. Don't think." She added.
They found a booth near the bar, and Sofia tried to relax. The ice in her glass clinked softly as she sipped something that tasted like fruit and fire. For a moment, she almost forgot the ache in her chest.
And then she saw him—across the room. He stood tall, effortlessly magnetic. Dressed in a sleek black suit, drink in hand, he scanned the crowd with calculated disinterest until his eyes landed on her. His gaze was cold and intense.
Their eyes locked. Sofia's breath hitched. Something about him felt dangerous, controlled, and devastatingly intriguing. He didn't smile. He didn't look away, neither did she.
Adam couldn't believe he'd actually let himself end up at a club.
He should've been at his office, pen in hand, reviewing contracts, negotiating figures, dissecting reports with accuracy. That was where he thrived. That was where he belonged.
Not here in this dimly lit lounge surrounded by pulsing music, overpriced whiskey, and strangers who lived for noise and chaos.
But Tristan Wolfe, his best friend, legal counsel, and professional instigator had other plans.
"You need air, not financial statements," Tristan had told him while dragging him out of his office. "Drink something, look at someone beautiful, and maybe just relax before you kill a multi-billion-dollar deal with your scowl."
Adam hadn't argued. Not because he agreed, but because he was too tired to fight the one person who always managed to get past his defenses. Tristan had been there long before Adam wore suits tailored in Italy or signed deals with international tycoons. He knew the man beneath the cold exterior, and he knew when Adam was barely holding it together.
And right now, Adam was simmering. He was still pissed, and insulted. Still reeling from the absurd condition that had been dropped on him like a bomb.
Raymond, his late father's old friend and current business partner in the upcoming merger, had looked him dead in the eye and said, "If you want this deal to go through, Adam, you'll need to get married."
He'd said it like it was nothing more than a box to tick off on a legal form—a requirement no heavier than a dress code. Adam had laughed, thinking it was a joke. But the laughter died in his throat the moment he saw Raymond's expression. He was serious. Dead serious. And the worst part? He'd already made the arrangement—he'd already chosen Adam's bride. Like Adam's life, his future, his heart, were just items to be negotiated on a contract.
Now, that deal would expand Ravenstrong Holdings into an untouchable global force hung in the balance because of a ring and a signature on a marriage certificate.
"You've avoided commitment since you…" He stopped himself as soon as he saw Adam's expression darken.
Tristan cleared his throat and forced a smirk. "Now it's literally the one thing standing between you and world domination."
Adam didn't even crack a smile. Because it wasn't just a deal, it was a reckoning. And the one thing he'd spent his life avoiding had finally come back to corner him.
He didn't believe in love anymore. He didn't need a wife. And he especially didn't want one forced on him for the sake of business.
And yet here he was. In a club he didn't belong to. Surrounded by people he didn't care about. He was thinking about a merger that demanded a marriage he didn't believe in.
And he had no idea that tonight, fate was about to serve him the one woman who would ruin every carefully laid plan he'd made.
"You know her?" Tristan asked, following Adam's line of sight.
"No," Adam replied, eyes narrowing slightly. "But she doesn't belong here."
"Well, it looks like something finally caught your attention," Tristan said, his voice laced with amusement.
"Nothing ever catches my eye in this place. So yeah, I noticed them because they didn't belong here." He responded.
His eyes remained fixed on the woman near the bar, the one in the black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, the one who didn't seem to care about being noticed, and yet somehow, couldn't be ignored.
She wasn't like the usual crowd that frequented LUXE. He'd been here enough times to recognize the regulars, the socialites, the heiresses, the women who knew how to sell a glance and negotiate status with a smile. But this woman she was different.
Undone in all the right ways. Not overly polished, not trying too hard. There was something real about her, and real didn't often walk through the doors of this place. There was something about he couldn't name.
Maybe it was the way she laughed with her friends, her smile flickering between joy and something heavier. Or maybe it was the way her eyes scanned the room as if looking for an escape route, not attention.
He knew that look. It was the look of someone running from something. And he'd spent a lifetime recognizing the wounded, especially the ones who tried to look strong.
"Her friends don't look familiar either," Tristan added, glancing around. "Definitely not regulars. Think someone brought them in?"
Adam didn't answer. He didn't care how she got in.
He only knew that now that he'd seen her, he couldn't seem to look away.
He was staring—and he knew it.
Maybe it was because of the ridiculous condition Raymond had dropped on him like a bomb. Get married, he had said. Secure the merger. Adam had spent the last forty-eight hours trying to process the absurdity of it all, and now, maybe he just wanted to forget.
Even if it was just for one night.
But the more he looked at the woman with the guarded smile and tired eyes—the less it felt like a distraction and more like something he couldn't name.
And then, as if sensing the weight of his gaze, she turned her head. Their eyes met. She caught him staring, and instead of looking away, she held his gaze.
Something flickered in his chest—something unfamiliar and unwelcome. She didn't smile, she simply looked at him steady, unflinching, like she wasn't afraid of being seen.
That alone caught him off guard.
Most people flinched under his gaze. They either averted their eyes or smiled too quickly, trying to win his attention. But not her. She met his stare with quiet composure, as if challenging him without a single word.
And he couldn't look away. Their eyes locked for a beat too long to be innocent.
Then, she blinked, and looked away, her face unreadable. Not embarrassed. Not amused. Just guarded. But the moment was already ruined. Her friends had noticed.
They leaned in with the giddy urgency of women who had seen too much. Whispers passed between them, heads tilted toward her in delight, and giggles spilled out like confetti. One of them gave her a not-so-subtle nudge, the kind that said someone saw you staring too hard.
Adam caught all of it. Every flicker of movement. Every stolen glance.
And then, he saw the woman shake her head softly, as if trying to brush it off. But even from across the room, he could tell she was flustered. Not in a dramatic way. Just shaken enough that it made something twist in his chest.
His lips curved into the faintest smile. It wasn't amusement. It was curiosity. A flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time. A pull.
Adam didn't know who she was. He didn't know why she was there. But she wasn't like anyone else in that club. And suddenly, the night didn't feel so predictable, didn't feel so empty.