The bass pulses through the club, low and insistent, as I lean against the back of a booth, half-listening to whatever my mate is rambling about. Monaco is buzzing tonight - everyone’s here, everyone’s loud, and I should be having fun. But then I see her.

She walks in like she doesn’t belong - tight black dress hugging her figure, legs made longer by black heels, but it’s the way she looks around that catches me. Curious. A little cautious. Like she’s not used to this kind of scene. She’s with two friends, both louder than her, both already halfway to drunk.

She heads for the bar, her dress catching the light with every step. I can’t stop watching her. She’s not like the girls who usually orbit these places. There’s something real about her. Natural. Normal. And suddenly that’s the most interesting thing in this entire place.

Then I see him - some guy in a too-tight shirt, slick smile, moving in on her while she’s waiting for her drink. I know that look. And I know her look even better: uncomfortable, polite smile, body angled slightly away. She doesn’t want this.

I don’t even think. I’m moving before I realise it.

I weave through the crowd, slide in beside her at the bar like I’ve been there the whole time. I rest my hand lightly on her lower back and lean in close, so close my lips are almost brushing her ear.

“Play along,” I whisper. “Just for a second.”

She tenses, but then I feel her exhale - just a little - and she turns her face toward mine with a small smile. Her eyes flick to the guy still hovering nearby. And just like that, she’s in on it.

“Hey, babe,” she says, voice soft but steady. “You took your time.”

I let out a quiet breath, amused. “Traffic was hell.” I murmur back, then glance up at the guy. “Can we help you?”

The guy mumbles something under his breath and backs off fast, disappearing into the crowd.

She watches him go, then turns to me, smiling. “Nice rescue.”

I grin. “You looked like you needed one.”