The gala buzzed around you, lights shimmering and music floating through the air. A bit tipsy from the champagne, you wandered alone—your friends had already left. As you moved toward the bar, a hazy, drunken man appeared in your path, his grin unsettling.

“You with anyone, chica?” he slurred, a low whistle escaping his lips.

Before you could respond, an arm slid between you and the man. “She’s with me,” a low, commanding voice said.

You turned, eyes meeting those of a man with striking features and dark brown hair. He stood close, protective, his gaze locking with yours. The drunk man backed off, mumbling an apology before stumbling away.

“Thank you,” you murmured, still catching your breath, unable to look away from the stranger who had appeared just in time.