A night with my brother-in-law

Victoria's POV

I’m so excited. Today marks three years since Marc and I got engaged. The wedding is in a month, and I’m finally going to move in with him. I was supposed to be in Lyon for a photo shoot with a model, but I did everything I could to free up my schedule and come back to Paris just in time to celebrate our anniversary together.

The taxi drops me off right in front of Marc’s building. Since I have a copy of his keys, I decide to surprise him.

As I walk into the residence, I’m surprised to see his car—and Éric’s too, his best friend. Great. There goes the surprise... I sigh, disappointed, and unlock the door.

No one in the living room. Not in the office. Not even in the kitchen.

I take a step toward the stairs when muffled moans catch my attention. My heart starts pounding. I climb slowly, tiptoeing. The sounds grow louder, more intense. A cold shiver runs down my spine.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I nearly faint.

Marc is on all fours on our bed, being ridden by Éric.

"Oh my God..."

The tears burst out. My scream startles them. Marc jumps up in a panic, but I’m already running out of the apartment like my life depends on it. I slam the door and lock it behind me. I don’t want to hear him. I don’t want to see him. Not ever again.

We were supposed to get married in a month.

And now he’s cheating on me… with Éric. Éric, that bastard who was supposed to be our best man.

I cry like I’m about to die. I run, wander aimlessly, my heels in my hand. I want to die. This can’t be real—he couldn’t have done this to me… It has to be a nightmare. I’m going to wake up. I pinch myself. Nothing.

I collapse in tears in the middle of the street.

How am I supposed to erase this pain? How does anyone survive this? When I look up, I see a bar across the street. I walk in without thinking.

I hate drinking, but this feels like a matter of survival. It’s an emergency. I’m already on my fifth glass. I don’t want anything except to drown in alcohol. Even if it won’t fix anything, at least it’ll help me forget—just for a moment.

I keep replaying that awful day in my head. The more I think about it, the more I want to drink. I down my fifth glass in one gulp, then stare straight at the bartender. He must think I’m weird. Normally I only ever have one drink—and even then, Marc has to pressure me into it.

Damn it... Why am I still thinking about that jerk?

"Another one."

"Don’t you think you’ve had enough?" the bartender asks me.

"You here to make money or to be a pain in the ass?"

"The second, when it’s necessary."

"I don’t need a lecture. And besides, you’re not the only bartender in this city..."

He stares at me for a long moment before pouring my sixth drink. I barely have time to reach for it when another hand, faster than mine, grabs it and downs it in one gulp. I turn, furious, toward the idiot who just stole my drink right before my eyes.

He was wearing glasses, but even with them, it was obvious he was a handsome man. Stylish, with rich, dark skin—pure chocolate. The perfect height, and his T-shirt clung to rock-hard abs. A true work of art. I was instantly captivated by his looks, and clearly, I wasn’t the only woman eyeing him like candy.

But I had to pull myself together. There was no way I’d let him get away with drinking my sadness shot without permission. I glared at him.

"Who do you think you are, drinking my glass without asking?"

"I’m the guy who just saved you from a terrible end to your night. Look behind you."

I turned immediately. Nothing unusual—just people drinking, laughing, chatting.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Behind you, there are four men. They've been ogling you since I walked in."

I turned again, this time slower. Sure enough, four guys were staring at me intensely. But I still didn’t see the issue.

"So what? This is a bar, isn’t it?" I said, knocking on the counter to get the bartender’s attention again.

"They’re just waiting for you to be too drunk to say your own name. Then they’ll drag you into an alley and take turns with you."

My heart clenched. Panic surged through me. I glared at them, but my hands were trembling. My day had already been a disaster, and I refused to add an assault on top of it. Even though fear gripped me, I tried to look strong.

"And what do you care, huh? I don’t need saving, especially not from someone like you. Pretty face, rotten soul. You’re all the same… assholes."

"A heartbreak... I should’ve guessed. Call him. Let him come get you. The streets are dangerous, and I don’t want another sin on my conscience when they find your body in a dumpster. Give me his number."

"Go fuck yourself. Mind your business and leave me alone."

I spotted a couple sitting nearby. As soon as the bartender brought their drinks, I leaned over and grabbed the woman’s glass.

"Sorry..."

I brought it to my lips, but that jerk snatched it from my hands. The drink spilled on him in the process.

"Are you out of your mind? Damn it, I had a date!"

Like I cared... I didn’t know him from Adam, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Well, he got what he deserved.

"That was my drink you just stole!" the woman snapped.

"So what? Instead of bitching at me, maybe keep an eye on your man. Who knows? Maybe he’s screwing his best friend. Or his business partner." I laughed bitterly. "What do I know?"

They both stared at me like I was insane.

"You better control your girl. I don’t like her insinuations," the man grumbled.

"Sorry, she’s nothing to me. I don’t date crazies."

Did he just call me crazy? Me? I was about to lunge at him when he suddenly pulled off his T-shirt.

And then—blank.

I froze. I was right. He was delicious. Like a Greek statue. I don’t know what came over me, but I threw myself at him and kissed him like a starving woman. Let’s just say I was starving. Marc had never touched me, supposedly waiting for the wedding. This stranger didn’t push me away. He kissed me back, fiercely, passionately. He was driving me wild. I must’ve been making other women jealous—men like him were a rare treasure.

I’d played the saint long enough, and for what? Nothing. Just a shattered heart.

From now on, I’ll do whatever the hell I want.

God, he kisses so well.

I pressed even closer to his bare chest. I wanted this moment to last. But he suddenly pulled away.

"Whoa, that’s enough. I think we’ve drawn enough attention."

Indeed, all eyes were on us. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to stop.

"If you’re so eager to save me, why not take me to your place?"

"And why would I do that? Just because I kissed you back? Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t bring strangers home—especially not easy ones."

His words should have hurt. But nothing touched me anymore. All I wanted were his lips back on mine.

"That’s what hotels are for. So?"

He said nothing. Just stood there frozen, probably wondering if I was some kind of hooker.

"Do I kiss that badly that you need so long to answer? Plenty of men here."

I stood up. But he grabbed my arm, pulled me toward him, and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he pulled me tighter against his chest. His hands were wandering. My fingers naturally slid down to his crotch—already rock hard.

"No woman’s ever made me this hard this fast, especially in public," he murmured in my ear.

That line turned me on even more. I grinned at him and took the hand he offered.

He pulled out a few bills and dropped them on the counter.

"Here, keep the change," he told the bartender.