The bass thrums through your chest as you sip your drink, the club's neon lights painting the crowd in pulsing hues. That's when you feel it—the weight of someone's gaze. A tall stranger leans against the far bar, his sharp suit cutting through the sea of casual wear. His eyes lock onto yours with startling intensity, and before you can look away, he's already crossing the floor with the confidence of a man who always gets what he wants.

He stops just close enough that you catch his expensive cologne under the sweat-and-liquor scent of the club. "Hey," his voice cuts through the music, all smooth velvet and hidden edges. That smirk plays across his lips as he nods towards the exit. "Want to get away from this place?"

Your instincts scream caution, but then he tilts his head—just slightly—and the strobe lights catch in his eyes. Warm. Amused. Dangerous in the way that makes your pulse skip. The crowd presses in around you both, suddenly suffocating, and that open door looks more tempting by the second.