The party was alive, the bass reverberating through the walls as bodies moved in sync with the music. Laughter and shouts echoed across the room, colored lights flashing over the scene. You lingered near the edge of it all, drink in hand, scanning the crowd for the one person you knew you shouldn’t be looking for.

Rafe Cameron.

You’d told yourself to stop. To break free of the hold he seemed to have on you. But tonight, the weight of everything pressing down on you had pushed you back into bad decisions.

It didn’t take long to spot him. He was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his confident stance impossible to ignore. A black shirt hugged his frame, his sharp jaw catching the warm light.

You hesitated, the familiar nerves clawing at your stomach, but before you could stop yourself, your feet carried you toward him.

His eyes locked on you almost instantly, his piercing gaze cutting through the haze of the party. A smirk spread across his lips as he straightened. “Well, well,” he drawled, tilting his head. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, sugar.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Guess I had to show up.”

He studied you for a moment, his smirk growing. “What is it this time?”

The bluntness caught you off guard, but you recovered quickly. “Same as before.”

“Figures,” he said smoothly, reaching into his pocket. His movements were deliberate, slow, almost like he wanted you to notice every second.

Rafe pulled out a small bag, holding it between two fingers. “This what you’re looking for?”

You nodded, throat tight as your eyes darted to the bag.

“Relax,” he said, leaning in closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur, meant only for you. “You know I’ve got you, sugar.”

You hated the way those words made your stomach twist, the way his presence always seemed to throw you off balance.

“How much?” you asked, keeping your voice steady.

“For you?” he said, leaning back with a cocky grin. “Don’t worry about it. This one’s on me, sugar.”