Cleo  "I think we should break up." For a moment, I just stared at Damien.The words didn't register.They hung between us, suspended in the air like something unreal. I blinked. "What?" "I think we should break up," he repeated. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Not because it was funny. Because it was ridiculous. Because five minutes ago I had been sitting across from him wondering if he was about to propose. Because tonight was our anniversary and people didn't end three-year relationships over crème brûlée and expensive wine. "Okay," I said slowly. "Very funny." His expression didn't change and the smile slowly faded from my lips. "Wait." A strange feeling settled in my stomach. "You're serious?" The silence that followed was answer enough.  "Why?" The word barely came out above a whisper. Damien was silent for a moment. Then he leaned back slightly in his chair. "I just don't think this is working anymore." I stared at him, searching his face for something, anything that would make this make sense. I couldn't find it. "Did I do something wrong?" "No." The answer came too quickly. "Then what is it?" I asked. "Talk to me, Damien." He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Cleo..." "We can fix it," I said quickly. "Whatever it is, we can work through it." I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Please, Damien." For one stupid, humiliating second, hope flared inside me. Then he pulled his hand away. Not harshly. Not gently either. Just... deliberately. Like he didn't want me touching him. I felt the rejection all the way down to my bones. "You need to stop this, you're embarrassing yourself," he said coldly. A tear slipped free before I could stop it. I wiped it away immediately. "I don't want to be with you anymore." The finality in his voice shattered whatever hope I had left. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he reached into his wallet, pulled out a few dollar bills, and dropped them on the table. "For the meal." The casualness of it made me feel sick. As if three years together could be settled as easily as a restaurant bill. Without another word, he stood. And walked away. Just like that. I sat there staring at his retreating figure,unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to understand how the man I'd loved for three years had just walked out of my life. Slowly, I became aware of the whispers around me. The curious glances. The sympathetic looks which only made the humiliation worse. My phone suddenly buzzed inside my purse. My heart jumped and before I could stop myself, I was already reaching for it, a tiny, desperate part of me hoping it was Damien. Hoping he'd text me and tell me this had all been a mistake. A misunderstanding. A cruel joke. Anything. My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone. The hope died almost instantly. It wasn't Damien. It was my best friend Lexi. Lexi: Hey girl! How did dinner go? Did he propose? I need details asap!! I stared at the message and felt a sharp pain in my chest. Just a few hours ago, Lexi had been sitting cross-legged on my bed while I got ready for dinner. She'd spent almost thirty minutes helping me prepare for a future that no longer existed. A tear slid down my cheek at the memory. I quickly locked my phone and shoved it back into my purse. I couldn't answer her. Not right now. Not when I could barely process it myself . I pushed back my chair and stood. My legs felt unsteady beneath me. For a split second, I thought I might actually collapse. Instead, I grabbed my purse and headed for the exit. The cool night air hit my face the moment I stepped outside. I inhaled sharply and wrapped my arms around myself as tears continued slipping down my cheeks. A yellow cab pulled up near the curb. Without thinking, I raised my hand, signaling for the driver to stop. A few moments later, I was sitting in the back seat staring blankly out the window. The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Where to, miss?" I should've said home. But the thought of walking into my apartment made my chest ache. Every corner of the apartment held a memory of Damien. I couldn't face it. Not tonight. Not when I still felt like I couldn't breathe. "Miss?" I blinked. "Sorry." My voice sounded strange. Small. Broken. I swallowed hard. "Where's the nearest club?" The driver looked surprised but quickly recovered. "About ten minutes from here." I nodded and looked back out the window. "Take me there." The rest of the drive passed in silence. I rested my forehead against the cool window and watched the city blur by in streaks of light. The rational part of me knew that drowning my misery in alcohol wasn't going to fix anything. It wasn't going to make Damien come back or  erase the image of him walking away from me without a second glance. But right now, I didn't want to be rational. I didn't want to think, or go home and sit alone in my apartment. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop. A few minutes later, the cab slowed before pulling up outside a building lit by a glowing black-and-gold sign which read Havana Club. The club stretched across the corner of the street, its entrance crowded with people waiting behind velvet ropes. Music pulsed faintly through the walls, the heavy bass vibrating even from outside. "We're here," the driver said. His voice snapping me out of my thoughts. For a second, I simply stared at the sign before reaching into my purse and handing him a few dollar bills. "Keep the change." He glanced at the money before looking back at me. "Have a good night,miss."  I pushed open the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The night air was cold against my skin. People stood in small groups outside the club, laughing and talking. I took my place in the line. A large security guard checked IDs before waving people through one at a time. When my turn came, he barely glanced at my driver's license before handing it back. "Enjoy your night." I forced a smile and stepped inside. The music hit me immediately. The bass vibrated through the floor beneath my heels. Flashes of colored light swept across the crowded room. Conversations blended with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the steady rhythm of music pouring from the speakers. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume, alcohol, and something sweet I couldn't quite place. I almost turned around and left. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe I should've gone home. Then Damien's voice echoed through my head and my stomach twisted at the memory. I lifted my chin and headed toward the bar. One drink. That's all I needed. Just one. One turned into two. Two turned into three. Somewhere between the third and fourth, I'd stopped keeping count. I slid my empty glass toward the bartender. "Another." Before the bartender could reach for the bottle, a voice beside me spoke. "Rough night?" Slowly, I turned my head. A man occupied the seat next to mine. I hadn't even noticed him sit down.

Cleo He lifted the glass in his hand and took a slow sip of the amber liquid inside, his gaze fixed on me. I let out a quiet scoff. "You have no idea." He gave a small nod before turning his attention back to his drink. That was it. No follow-up questions. No attempt to make conversation. I frowned slightly. Most people would've taken that as an invitation to keep talking. Instead, he simply... left me alone.  I took a moment to study his features. His jet-black hair fell slightly over his forehead, looking intentionally messy. Broad shoulders stretched beneath a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. There was something intimidating about him, even though he looked completely relaxed. And annoyingly enough, he was ridiculously attractive. "Checking me out?" His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I felt a surge of heat rush to my cheeks. "What? No," I said a little too quickly. He raised an eyebrow, and I immediately turned my attention back to my drink, hoping he wouldn't notice the heat creeping into my cheeks. The alcohol buzzed warmly through my chest, making everything feel slightly slower around the edges. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, before I could stop myself... "My boyfriend broke up with me." The man remained silent, as though waiting to see if I'd say more. I stared down at the amber liquid swirling inside my glass. "Tonight. On our anniversary." A humorless laugh escaped me. "Can you believe that?" Saying it out loud made it feel real all over again. Something twisted painfully inside my chest, and I let out a quiet laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He remained quiet for a while before finally speaking. "That's a terrible thing to do to someone. He sounds like an asshole." That wasn't the response I'd expected, but it made me feel surprisingly better. I looked away quickly. Why was I even talking to him? I didn't know his name. I didn't know anything about him. Yet somehow I was sitting here telling him things about my private life. Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone. Besides, he was a stranger. I'd probably never see him again after tonight, so what was the harm? "I must look pathetic. I mean..." I stared into the amber liquid swirling inside my glass. "Maybe this is my fault. Maybe I wasn't enough." I laughed again, the sound cracking halfway through. "Maybe I talked too much. Or maybe I didn't listen enough." I swallowed hard. "Maybe he got tired of me." "Stop." The word wasn't loud. But it was firm enough to make me look at him. "Don't do that." I frowned. "Do what?" "Blame yourself for someone else's decision." "You don't know me." "No, I don't." "So how do you know I'm not the problem?" He held my gaze for a long second before speaking. "I just do," he said with a shrug. I looked away. "I should've seen it coming. I ignored every sign." I let out another shaky laugh. "I actually thought..." I shook my head. "God, I'm such an idiot." "You're not an idiot. If anything, he's the idiot, and you deserve better," he said before taking another sip of his drink. I couldn't help but smile at his words. It was strange how a complete stranger had managed to make me feel better in a few minutes than I had all evening. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The music pulsed through the room, vibrating beneath my feet as people laughed and danced around us. My eyes drifted back to him. He was still watching me. There was something frustratingly unreadable about him. He wasn't trying to flirt. He wasn't trying to impress me. He was simply... there. And for some reason, that felt strangely comforting. My gaze drifted to his lips before I could stop it. God. He was attractive. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the loneliness clawing at my chest. Or maybe it was the way he'd looked at me all night without pity. Every sensible part of my brain screamed at me to look away. To finish my drink and leave. Instead, I heard myself whisper. "I don't want to think anymore." His expression softened, almost imperceptibly. The music around us seemed to fade beneath the pounding of my heartbeat. His gaze flickered briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. The tiny movement sent an unexpected shiver through me. Was I imagining this? I should stop. I should leave. I should be anywhere but here but my body didn't seem interested in listening. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I leaned forward. There was still time to stop. Still time for one of us to pull away. He didn't move. Neither did I. The space between us disappeared as my lips brushed against his. The moment lasted only a second. Long enough for reality to come crashing back. My eyes flew open, and I jerked back so quickly I nearly knocked over my glass. "I'm... I'm sorry." His expression mirrored my surprise. For a second, neither of us moved. Then something shifted in his eyes. Before I could retreat completely, he closed the distance between us and kissed me. This time, there was no hesitation. His hand came up to cup my cheek, warm against my skin, as though giving me one last chance to pull away. I didn't. Instead, I melted into the kiss, my fingers curling against the front of his shirt. The kiss lingered just long enough to steal the air from my lungs before he slowly pulled back. His forehead rested lightly against mine. When he spoke, his voice was lower than before. "I think..." He exhaled softly. "...we should probably stop." The rational part of me knew he was right. It was screaming that he was right. But tonight, I didn't want to be rational. "I don't want to stop," I whispered. Silence settled between us. Finally, he looked around the crowded club before meeting my eyes again. "Then we should probably get out of here."

Cleo  The music still pulsed around us, but somehow it sounded distant now, fading beneath the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.Then he stood and without a word, he held out his hand. I looked at it for a second before slipping my fingers into his.His hand was warm and firm, his fingers wrapping effortlessly around mine. He helped me to my feet, and I reached for my purse where it rested on the polished bar counter. Together, we made our way through the crowd.The music grew louder as we crossed the dance floor. A few moments later, the cool night air wrapped around us as we stepped outside.The noise from inside the club became muffled as the doors closed behind us.  Parked neatly at the curb was a sleek black Rolls-Royce. Before I could process what I was looking at, a chauffeur stepped forward and opened the passenger door. I glanced at the man, then back at the car.Who exactly was this man?The thought barely had time to settle before it drifted away beneath the haze of whiskey clouding my mind. "I can have him take you home." His voice was calm. Steady. No expectation. No pressure. Just another chance to walk away.  I slowly shook my head. "I don't want to go home." His gaze lingered on me for a second. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Yes," I said, meeting his eyes. Something unreadable passed across his face before he gave a single nod.  He guided me to the car. The chauffeur closed the door behind us before walking around to the driver's seat. "Take us to the penthouse." The chauffeur nodded once. "Yes, sir." Penthouse?Questions flooded my mind, but I didn't ask any of them because I didn't want to ruin the moment. Besides, after tonight, I'd probably never see him again. So who he was really didn't matter.  As the car pulled away from the curb, silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren't saying. Then,without warning, he closed the distance between us as his lips met mine.The kiss was slow. Unhurried. As though neither of us was trying to rush whatever this was. A sudden awareness crept over me and I pulled back just enough to glance toward the front of the car. The chauffeur's hands remained steady on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. If he'd noticed us, he gave no indication of it. His expression remained perfectly neutral, the picture of professionalism.Still, knowing he was there made me feel self-conscious. As if noticing my discomfort the man reached toward the center console and pressed a button. A tinted privacy partition rose smoothly between the front and back seats. He then turned to look at me. "Better?" "Yeah," I said softly, offering him a small smile. Without another word, his mouth found mine again, the kiss deeper and more demanding than before. His tongue slid against mine as one of his hands slid to the back of my neck,pulling me closer while the other roamed my body, learning every curve. I moaned softly when his palm covered my breast, his thumb brushing over my hardening nipples through my silk dress. "God, you're so responsive," he murmured against my lips. His hand slid up my thigh,pushing my dress higher until his fingers brushed over my center through my panties, applying the lightest pressure to my clit through the fabric. "You're so wet," he said, rubbing me through the fabric. "Fuck!" I gasped at the contact, my hips bucking against his hand. He pressed harder against my clit making slow circles that had me clutching his shoulders for support.  "Oh God,"I moaned as he increased the pressure pushing me closer to the edge. Just as the wave of my orgasm was about to crash over me a soft chime echoed through the car. A second later, the chauffeur's voice came through the intercom, calm and professional. "Sir, we've arrived." I blinked, my breathing uneven as I glanced toward the darkened partition. I hadn't even realized the car had stopped. He drew a slow breath before reluctantly leaning away, running a hand through his hair as though collecting himself. I smoothed the front of my dress, suddenly conscious of my appearance. He pressed a button, and the tinted partition slid silently back down. Seconds later, the chauffeur stepped out and opened the rear door.He stepped out first, then turned and offered me his hand. "Shall we?" I slipped my hand into his, letting him help me out of the car. We were in a dimly lit underground garage, the polished floor gleaming beneath the soft overhead lights. Luxury cars occupied neatly marked spaces, the silence a stark contrast to the chaos we'd just left behind.Without a word, he led me toward a set of elevator doors tucked away at the far end of the garage. The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime and we stepped inside together. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, he closed the distance between us once again, gently backing me against the metal wall of the elevator. "Now,where were we?" he asked but before I could answer his mouth captured mine,rougher this time,demanding and possessive.His tongue demanded entry and I opened to him without hesitation,moaning as he deepened the kiss. My hands found his shoulders, fingers curling against the firm muscle beneath his shirt. One of his hands moved to my breast,roughly squeezing as his thumb found my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress. "Fuck,your tits are perfect,"he murmured against my lips."I want do see them bounce while I fuck you." "Fuck!" I gasped as he pinched my nipples.His mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting while my hands roamed over his back feeling the hard muscles flex under my touch. He pushed his hips against me and I could feel his hardness pressed against my stomach. "I want you," he murmured against my neck. His hand slipped under my dress, leaving a trail of warmth between my thighs. His fingers teased along the waistband of my panties while also tracing patterns on my lower abdomen. Slowly, he pushed my panties aside.  "You're so fucking wet," he said circling my clit with his thumb while sliding one finger inside me. "And tight." I cried out at the contact, my hips bucking against his hand.He added a second finger,stretching me wider as he pumped in and out. My gaze drifted past him, landing on our reflection in the mirror opposite us. For a second, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. Her lipstick was smudged, her cheeks flushed,her breathing uneven and her eyes still dazed from everything that had happened. "You like that," he asked curling his fingers to hit a spot that made me see stars. "Yes," I gasped,barely able to recognize my own voice. I was so close, trembling on the brink of release when suddenly a soft chime echoed through the elevator and the doors slid open onto a quiet private foyer.