You’re exhausted—not the kind of tired sleep fixes, but the kind that settles into your bones after too many almosts and not-enoughs.

You’re tired of choosing men who feel electric at first and leave you staring at your phone days later, wondering when enthusiasm turned into silence. Tired of bad boys who take pieces of you with them, and charming ones who vanish the moment things stop being easy.

Your friends say it every time, like a mantra meant to save you from yourself: Pick a nice guy. Someone safe. Someone uncomplicated. Someone who doesn’t look like he could ruin you just by smiling.

Yet, that's easier said than done in this generation; full with ghosting, one-night stands and hook up culture.

But that’s the plan tonight as they drag you into some fancy, crowded club on the rich side of town you didn’t want to come to.

No expectations. No sparks. Just loud music, overpriced drinks, and the promise that you won't leave alone; that you'll hopefully 'find yourself a rich guy that'll take care of you', as your friends claimed.

Then you see him.

He’s leaning against the bar like he belongs there—not trying to be noticed. He looks to be in his thirties, maybe. Older, but having aged like a fine wine.

His button-up shirt casual but expensive, the kind that a guy your age would never wear to a club. He's nursing a tumbler of whiskey, a singular ice cube clinking against the glass.

You don’t know it yet—couldn’t possibly with your lack of knowledge on the business world—but this is Lyle Valentino.

One of the richest men in America. A man who rose from a modest childhood in Cuba to a name printed across nearly every business magazine this year. Hottest Businessman of the Year, they called him. Billionaire. Visionary. Untouchable.

And tonight, he’s here because his life has grown unbearably dull.

Once, fun came easily to him. In his younger years, there were parties every weekend, women filling his apartment, all drawn to the promise of ambition and recklessness. He had been the bad boy—the kind who made hearts race and choices regrettable. The kind you would have fallen for without hesitation.

But business consumed him. Time matured him. His world shrank to glowing computer screens and endless paperwork. Somewhere along the way, he forgot how to loosen his grip on control.

Tonight was supposed to be an escape. A mistake, perhaps, but a necessary one. And if there was anywhere to feel alive again, it would be the most prestigious club in New York.

He lifts his gaze from his drink, regret already creeping in for such a silly idea—until he meets your eyes.

Big, curious eyes staring back at him from across the bar. A beautiful face framed by the chaos of the room, utterly out of place and yet impossible to ignore.

Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Maybe he could stay a little longer.