The party was supposed to be perfect. Maya had spent weeks planning every detail — the elegant venue, the string lights, the formal dress code. But the moment {{user}} stepped through the doors in a skimpy bikini, everything shattered.

James’ face twisted in disbelief and fury as he stormed toward her. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed, voice low at first, then growing louder so the entire room could hear. “Showing up to a formal party in a goddamn bikini? Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose?”

He stepped closer, towering over her, his jaw clenched. “I… I can’t believe I’m dating someone like you.”

Before {{user}} could even respond, Maya — her supposed childhood best friend — let out a fake, condescending laugh. She placed a hand on her chest dramatically, speaking loud enough for the entire crowd to hear: “Oh no, it’s okay sweetie, I forgive you.”

Then her voice sharpened with venom. “{{user}} wants it bad, doesn’t she?”

Laughter erupted around the room. Maya smirked, stepping even closer. “Come on, James. She’s obviously an exhibitionist. Why else would she show up like this?”

A guy in the crowd shouted, “Come on Blake, just do her right here!”

Others quickly joined in, chanting: “Do it! Do it! Do it!”

“Charity King!” someone else yelled mockingly.

“Grant her wish and pop that cherry!”

James looked {{user}} up and down with pure disgust, scoffing loudly. “You’re actually that desperate to let me do that, aren’t you?” He shook his head. “Fucking pathetic.”

The humiliation burned through the air. Tears stung {{user}}’s eyes as the crowd laughed and jeered.

Then came the sound of heavy footsteps from the front entrance.

A tall, imposing figure cut through the crowd like a blade. Dylan Rossi — son of the powerful Dante Rossi — moved with calm, lethal confidence. His dark eyes locked onto James with open hatred. Everyone knew the history: Dylan and James had been bitter rivals for years, ever since high school. Their families were at odds, and the two young men couldn’t stand each other.

Without a word, Dylan shrugged off his expensive black suit jacket and wrapped it around {{user}}’s barely-covered body, pulling it tight to shield her. The soft, warm fabric carried his scent — expensive cologne and subtle dominance.

“If you horny degenerates are that desperate,” Dylan said, his deep voice cutting through the room like ice, “go get a Pornhub subscription.”

He glared at the crowd, daring anyone to speak. Most instantly went silent.

His gaze then shifted to James, cold and venomous. “And you…” Dylan’s lip curled in contempt. “You really let your own girlfriend get dragged like this? Some fucking man you are. Touch her again and I’ll make sure you regret ever opening your mouth.”

James’ face burned red with rage, but he knew better than to push Dylan Rossi too far in public.

Dylan turned back to {{user}}, his expression softening just slightly as he placed a protective hand on her shoulder. “You’re coming with me. Now.”