Aria shoved open the apartment door, letting her bag thud against the floor. Her blazer slipped off her shoulders like it had been choking her all day. Mia didn’t even flinch from the couch, where she sat cross-legged with a bowl of popcorn, eyes glued to a romcom.

“You’re back late,” Mia said, her mouth full. “Tell me everything.”

Aria dropped onto the couch beside her. “It was brutal. My heart nearly exploded before I even sat down.”

Mia shoved the bowl toward her. “Spill.”

“They grilled me. One guy practically told me I was unwanted. And the man in the center…” Aria’s words stalled. His eyes still haunted her, sharp and unreadable. “He was… different.”

Mia perked up instantly. “Different how? Hot different? Scary different? Or, wait for it…..both?”

Aria groaned into the popcorn. “Why do you always twist everything into some romcom plot?”

“Because life is a romcom if you stop sulking long enough to notice,” Mia said, smirking. “Now quit dodging. Was he hot or not?”

Aria lifted her head, cheeks warm. “Both. He smiled at me like… like he already knew I’d give him whatever he wanted.”

Mia whistled low. “Yikes. Sexy trouble. I like it.”

“You would.” Aria pulled at a cushion, hugging it to her chest. “Meanwhile, I felt like a fraud the whole time. If they call me back, it’ll be a miracle.”

Mia set her bowl down and turned to face her. “Okay, first, stop putting yourself down. Second, you need to clear your mind before you spiral. And I know exactly how.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. “This sounds dangerous.”

“Girls’ night.” Mia bounced on the couch. “Drinks. Music. Bad dancing. Worse decisions.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Mia….”

“You’ve been locked up with résumés and self-pity for months. You need to remember you’re alive. Tonight is about fun. No excuses.”

Aria tried to argue, but exhaustion tugged at her shoulders. Maybe Mia was right. Maybe she needed to breathe again. “Fine. One night.”

Mia squealed, already on her feet. “That’s my girl! Now go change, because you are not stepping into a club looking like a rejected librarian.”

Two hours later, the bass from the club rattled Aria’s ribs. Lights streaked across the crowd, bodies pressed close, and the air smelled like sweat and perfume. Mia dragged her onto the dance floor, yelling something Aria couldn’t hear over the beat.

They spun, shouted, and laughed. For the first time, it doesn't matter. Aria’s chest felt lighter.

After a few songs, she stumbled toward the bar, her face flushed. “Water,” she told the bartender, sliding onto a stool.

“Rough night?” a low voice murmured beside her.

She turned. The man leaning against the bar was all effortless power—dark suit, loosened tie, an easy smile that shouldn’t have hit her as hard as it did. His gaze lingered on her like she was worth studying.

“Long week,” she admitted.

He nodded to the bartender. “Two whiskeys.”

“I didn’t order….”

“Consider it my good deed for the day.”

The bartender slid the glasses across. The stranger lifted his, waiting.

Aria hesitated, then clinked hers against his. The burn seared down her throat, but the way he watched her made heat flare lower in her belly.

“I’m Liam,” he said.

“Aria.”

He repeated it slowly, like testing the sound. “Aria. Pretty name. Doesn’t fit someone hiding in a corner.”

She raised a brow. “Who says I’m hiding?”

“Your eyes,” he said without hesitation.

Her pulse tripped. She tried for a laugh. “And what do they say?”

“That you’re running from something.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Do you read people for a living?”

“Something like that.” He leaned closer, his cologne subtle but heady. “But tonight, you don’t have to explain yourself. Just let me buy you another drink.”

The second whiskey went down easier. The third blurred her nerves into laughter. Their conversation darted from playful banter to teasing questions.

He asked about the worst decision she’d ever made. She dared him to tell her his darkest secret. Neither answered honestly, but both pretended they did.

At some point, his hand brushed hers on the bar, lingered, then didn’t move. Her skin tingled.

“I should find my friend,” she murmured, suddenly looking haggard.

“I’ll walk you.” He said it like it was final.

Outside, the night air cooled her flushed cheeks. She should have pulled away, but his hand settled at the small of her back, guiding her gently toward the curb.

“Cab?” he asked.

She opened her mouth, but the word stuck. She didn’t want the night to end.

He saw it in her face, because his lips curved. “Or…”

“Or?” she whispered.

“Or come with me.”

Her heart pounded. She should’ve said no. Instead, she nodded

The hotel suite door clicked shut behind them. Aria’s back hit the wall as his mouth crushed against hers. The taste of whiskey mingled with heat, his kiss demanding and desperate. She gasped, clutching his shirt, and he deepened the kiss until her knees weakened.

“Tell me to stop,” he muttered against her lips.

Her answer was a breathless, “Don’t.”

Clothes vanished—her blouse yanked over her head, his jacket flung aside. His hands left fire everywhere they touched. She tugged at his tie, pulling him closer, her body answering before her mind could think.

The bed caught them, sheets twisting as he hovered over her. His eyes searched hers, dark and burning. “Sure?”

Her answer was to pull him down again.

The night blurred—heat, tangled limbs, gasps swallowed by kisses. Every touch unraveled her until she forgot everything: the interview, the worry, the fear. There was only him.

Later, when the room finally stilled, Aria lay against his chest, her heartbeat echoing his. She should’ve been terrified of tomorrow. Instead, for the first time in months, she felt alive.

She didn’t even know his last name.

And she didn’t care.