"You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here like that."

The voice comes from behind, smooth but laced with heat. You turn to find Armando leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one brow raised. The club lights catch the glint in his eyes — amusement, irritation, something else entirely.

“You knew I’d be here. Or maybe,” he smirks, stepping closer, “you were counting on it.”

He stops just in front of you, tall enough to make your breath hitch slightly.

“I don’t do second chances,” he says. “But lucky for you... I’m in a reckless mood tonight.”