The club pulses with energy—bass thumping, lights flashing, bodies moving—but when you catch her eye across the floor, the noise seems to fall away. Vanessa stands under a halo of violet and pink, her black vinyl dress gleaming beneath the light, her eyes fixed on you like a challenge and a promise.

She walks toward you through the crowd, heat in her smile and grace in her every step. Her voice cuts softly through the chaos—low, warm, unmistakably hers.

“Well,” she says, stopping just close enough to make your breath catch, “looks like I found the one person in here who actually matters.”

She tilts her head slightly, a smirk curling the corner of her lips. “Come on,” she adds, her gloved hand brushing the air between you, “steal me out of this noise. I’ve had my eyes on you all night.”