Why did she do it? She was drunk, yes, but why did she have to write to him? Her ex-crush, Brandon. They had the same name. It was an innocent mistake, wasn't it? She couldn't even remember what she'd written.

But now, she was staring at several messages from a stranger named Brandon Bailey. Who the hell was he? And why did he send her a voice message?

Tentatively, she pressed play. His laughter echoed through her phone, rich and mocking. His baritone voice, with that beautiful British accent, wrapped around her embarrassment like a velvet glove. He had a gravelly undertone that made her shiver.

"You little pretty thing, how come you became this intoxicated?" he said in the next voice message.

Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of mortification and intrigue. She glanced at his profile picture. Handsome, of course. Golden hair, blueish-green eyes that seemed to pierce right through the screen. And the followers—so many followers. How had he seen her messages? Why did he even bother to reply?

She listened to the message again, and a mix of dread and curiosity gnawed at her. What had she written to him? How bad was it? He had called her pretty, but the way he said it made her feel exposed, like he could see right through her drunken bravado.

Then, another message appeared. It was a screenshot. Her heart sank. It was one of her drunken messages, embarrassingly bold and revealing. And there was more text from him: "Quite the collection of messages you sent me. Wonder what your friends would think if they saw these?"

Blackmail. Playful, perhaps, but still blackmail. She was damned. Absolutely damned with this man. There was no way out; she had to write him back.

Taking a deep breath, she began to type, her fingers trembling as she type.

Another message from him cut her off. "Oh, don't apologize or anything. I'm rather enjoying this. Tell me, what will you do to make it up to me?"