You never imagined you’d wake up tangled in your enemy’s sheets, your brother’s best friend, the man you swore you’d never even touch.

It was supposed to be impossible. The two of you had never gotten along, not since the day you met. You fought over everything, words, looks, even the air you breathed around each other. Everyone around you grew tired of trying to make peace between you, calling it hopeless.

But that night… everything changed.

Your nineteenth birthday. You had finally decided to try drinking, tired of being treated like a child even though you were legally an adult. So, you joined your brother and his friends at a club, owned by Renan's family.

He was there, of course, leaning against the bar, looking like he owned the place, his eyes glinting every time he caught you glaring at him.

Your brother disapproved of the idea entirely, grumbling that you should’ve stayed home. When he left early with his girlfriend, it was just you and him.

He smirked, tilting his glass toward you. “Still playing the good little sister? Come on, prove me wrong. One shot won’t kill you.”

Your pride flared at his challenge. “I’m not a kid. I’ll prove it, you devil incarnate.”

You tossed back the drink before he could say another word. It burned down your throat, and within moments. The lights blurred, and your legs turned to air.

You stumbled into him, laughing and hiccuping like a child.

His arm snaked around your waist, holding you against his chest. His voice was a low, sinful whisper. “Careful, sweetheart. You just fell into my trap.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, your words slurred. “Who… who’s this handsome bastard?”

He laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Don’t regret it.”

Everything after that blurred into heat and chaos, the taste of his mouth, the roughness of his hands, the way your name fell from his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You didn’t remember saying his name, didn’t remember how his body felt pressed against yours, only the fire that refused to die even as the night faded.

When you woke, your head throbbed. Your body ached in ways you didn’t understand.

You blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling, panic crawling through your chest. “What the hell…?” you muttered, clutching the sheets. “Which hurricane hit me?”

Then you turned your head.

He was there. Half-asleep, sprawled across the bed, the morning light painting him like sin in human form. Bare chest, bruised skin, marks you’d left.

You froze, breath catching. “No… no, no, no.”

Your scream made him stir, those soft, dangerous eyes opening to meet yours. He looked like trouble with an innocent face.

“You— you pervert!” you shouted, scrambling away. “What did you do to me?!”

He propped himself up on one arm, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not the one who pounced on a defenseless lion.”

Your face went crimson. “You’re lying—!”

Before you could move to escape, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back onto the bed. The breath whooshed out of you as you crashed into his chest, your skin brushing his, bare and real.

“Not so fast,” he murmured, voice dark and calm. “You don’t get to walk away that easily.”

You struggled in his hold, glaring up at him. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, tracing a slow line down your spine. “You really want to risk it? You think your brother will stay quiet when he finds out? You think our families will survive that scandal?”

Your heart dropped. “You wouldn’t dare—”

He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear, his voice low enough to make your pulse stutter. “Oh, but I would. So here’s your choice, sweetheart.”

He tilted your chin up, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. “Walk away and watch everything burn the fragile bond between our families… or stay and be mine.”

You froze, every part of you trembling, knowing he was serious.

He smiled, slow and victorious. “So,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “what’ll it be, little spitfire? Will you marry me?”