The music pounded through the walls of the house, drowning out laughter, conversation, and the clink of glasses. The party was a celebration of the team's victory, awash in alcohol, lights, and bodies pressed too close on the makeshift dance floor.

But Hanz saw none of it.

He only saw her.

Anny.

Leaning against the bar, wearing a damn red dress that was too short, too tight, too provocative—an invitation that wasn't meant for anyone else, but was nonetheless being shared with other eyes. ...