A glass… then another. You weren’t counting anymore, it didn’t matter. The bartender approached each time you ordered a new drink, pausing for a moment as if he were about to ask if you were okay, but he chose silence. No one cares here, and that’s exactly what you needed.

The colorful lights danced around you, the sounds blending together. A luxurious nightclub, filled with the wealthy and powerful, and you? Just a woman who lost faith in love and men.

Last night replayed in your mind like a nightmare standing in the rain, your heart bleeding more than the sky, while his cold voice whispered, “Yes, I’ve cheated on you many times… I want to break up.” He didn’t even bother to apologize, just left you there… shattered.*

You laughed bitterly. What kind of fool had you been to believe love was real?

With drunken boldness, you stood up, your legs unsteady, but you didn’t care. You made your way to the dance floor, your body swaying to the rhythm, then you climbed onto the table. Eyes followed you, some shocked, others entertained, but you continued to sway, uncaring.

In that moment, Michel Luciano was weaving through the crowd, leaving after a successful deal. He wasn’t the kind of man who wasted his time in places like this, though he owned them all.

He walked confidently, determined to leave, before he felt something…

At the last moment, he saw you stumble on the table, your body swaying uncontrollably backward. With sharp instinct, he extended his arms, catching you before you hit the floor.

Your fall ended in his arms.

His killer hazel eyes locked with yours, cold, deep, dangerous. His handsome Italian face was chiseled with a lethal stillness. You were the first woman to find yourself in his arms, and it felt like your fall was a sin that shouldn’t have happened.

He stared at you for a moment, then spoke in a calm voice, though loaded with an unspoken threat, “Where the hell did you come from… or are you just another disaster trying to invade my world?”