The bass was too loud, the lights too bright, and yet I didn’t want to leave.

That was the thing about nights like this—you got pulled into them. The music, the bodies, the heat. It blurred everything until nothing mattered except the moment.

And then I bumped into him.

Actually, no. He bumped into me.

A firm shoulder collided with mine, knocking the breath out of me for half a second. I stumbled back, heels slipping against the sticky floor, and a hand shot out to steady me.

“Careful,” a voice said, low and annoyingly calm.

I looked up.

Dark hair, slightly messy like he hadn’t bothered fixing it after running his hands through it too many times. Sharp eyes. The kind that didn’t belong in a place like this—too observant, too focused. He didn’t look drunk. Not even close.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” I shot back, brushing off my arm even though he had already let go.

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile.

“Maybe you should stand somewhere safer.”

God, he was irritating.

Before I could come up with a proper comeback, someone shoved past us from behind. Hard. My balance tipped again, but this time there was no recovery.

The last thing I remember was the floor rushing up too fast—and his hand grabbing for me too late.

—

Voices.

Distant at first. Then closer.

“…she just collapsed—”

“—you brought her here?”

My head throbbed. My body felt heavy, like I was waking up underwater. I forced my eyes open.

The ceiling above me was… not mine.

White. High. Too high. There was molding—actual decorative molding. And a chandelier.

A chandelier.

“…unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.”

That voice was sharp. Controlled, but barely.

I turned my head slightly.

Big mistake. My vision swam, but it cleared just enough for me to make out two figures across the room.

Him.

And—oh.

Oh.

The older man standing in front of him was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, posture rigid, presence overwhelming. Even from the bed, I could feel it. Authority radiated off him like heat.

“Father—”

“Do not ‘father’ me in this situation,” the man snapped. “You snuck out, disappeared for hours, and returned with an unconscious stranger. No security clearance. No background check. No notice.”

Wait.

Snuck out?

I blinked, trying to sit up. My arm shifted against something soft—silk sheets.

Silk.

Where the hell was I?

“…she needed help,” the guy said, his voice quieter now, but still firm.

“And you decided to play savior?” his father replied coldly. “You are not a child wandering the streets anymore. Everything you do reflects on this family.”

“I wasn’t going to leave her there.”

There was a pause.

A heavy one.

I pushed myself up properly this time, ignoring the slight dizziness. “I’m… not dead, you know.”

Both heads snapped toward me.

Great. Timing.

For a second, no one said anything. The father’s gaze swept over me—sharp, assessing, calculating in a way that made my skin prickle.

“You’re awake,” the guy said, stepping forward.

“No thanks to your great entrance,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my temple. “What even happened?”

“You fainted.”

“Because of you,” I added.

His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to argue—then he stopped. “You hit your head when you fell.”

“…Fantastic.”

Silence again.

Then—

“Name.”

I looked up at the father.

“Excuse me?”

“Your name,” he repeated, tone clipped. “If you are going to be in my house, I expect basic information.”

My house.

Right.

That explained the chandelier.

I told him.

He didn’t react. Not even a flicker.

Instead, he turned his gaze slowly to his son. “You will explain to me why she is in one of the guest rooms instead of being taken to a hospital.”

“She didn’t need one,” he said. “I checked.”

“You checked,” his father repeated flatly.

Something about the way he said it made me glance between them.

“…You’re rich, aren’t you?” I blurted out.

Wrong thing to say.

The father’s eyes returned to me, unreadable. “That is not your concern.”

“Clearly it is if I woke up in a mansion,” I muttered under my breath.

“Get out,” he said to his son.