Andrew pressed his fingers to his temples, the din of the bar grating on his nerves. He longed for the quiet solitude of his home and a bottle of something strong, but his manager had insisted on this outing. The press tour for his new film had been grueling, a relentless drain on his energy. At least the buzz suggested another Golden Globe nomination was likely.

"Fuck," he muttered, lifting his head and sliding off the barstool. He fixed the man beside him with an icy glare. The guy reeked of overpowering alpha pheromones. "You reek," Andrew said bluntly, any pretense of civility gone.