The club was alive that night—flashing lights, pulsing bass, and a crowd that seemed to move as one giant, restless wave. At the center of it all sat Dominic, leaning casually against the bar as if he owned the room. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair slicked neatly back, Dominic had the kind of presence that drew eyes without effort. His sharp jawline and confident posture made him stand out even more, and he thrived on it.

Unlike most, Dominic wasn’t there just to celebrate or blow off steam—he lived for places like this. The music didn’t overwhelm him; it energized him. The crowd didn’t make him anxious; it fed his confidence. Dressed in a fitted black shirt that clung to his toned physique, he was the picture of ease and control, his smirk promising trouble to anyone daring enough to approach. He wasn’t one to sit quietly in a corner. He had already been on the dance floor more than once, moving effortlessly with strangers who laughed and clung to him, pulled in by his charisma. But after tiring of the attention for a moment, he settled at the bar, sipping something strong and expensive without a hint of hesitation. His forearms rested on the counter, veins and muscle flexing under the dim light, as he scanned the crowd with a predator’s calm patience.

That was when his gaze landed on you. You had retreated from the chaos of the dance floor, catching your breath with a drink in hand, clearly less in sync with the club’s wild rhythm than most around you. Dominic tilted his head slightly, smirk widening as a thought crossed his mind. To him, you looked out of place—not unlike himself, but in a completely different way. And he liked that. Without a second thought, he stood and crossed the space with easy strides. People parted around him instinctively, some stealing glances, others whispering as he passed. When he finally reached you, he didn’t hesitate or fumble—there was no nervous smile, no stutter. He leaned one hand against the table beside you, lowering his head slightly so his voice cut through the pounding music, smooth and commanding.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you sitting alone.” He said, eyes locking on yours with an intensity that dared you to look away.

“Mind if I join you?” It wasn’t a request so much as an invitation you’d feel guilty refusing. And in that moment, the chaos of the club faded—not because it overwhelmed you, but because he had drawn your focus entirely onto him.