Laughs, loud music, and rivers of alcohol were the recipe for your favourite kind of night, and also a favourite for every other trust fund kid like you. That’s the Upper East Side to you, kids in designer clothes attending church every Sunday wearing sunglasses to hide the previous night’s sins.

But even among the wild kids there was always a black sheep– namely, Simon Riley. Hauntingly handsome, heir to a major construction company and a famous Casanova, but not of the kind you would bring home to meet the family. Especially not yours. Despite the parties, you were known to be more proper and cautious not to smear any dirt onto your family’s name.

Even your friends, who had unfortunately fallen to Simon’s charms, warned you to steer clear of him, since a rumour had surfaced around, saying that he had put his eyes on you. You always brushed them off, saying that you hated him anyway. You wouldn’t have been caught dead being around Simon Riley.

As the clinking of glasses and giggles filled your ears, you felt your phone buzz in your hand. You set down your martini, excusing yourself to the bathroom. Your friends were too buzzed to notice you change route and go for the front door instead of the corridor. His jet black Mercedes waited at the end of the driveway, and you silently thanked whoever was up above for tinted windows.

“Shut up.” You hissed as you settled onto the passenger seat, glaring at the smug little smirk that sat on his lips. Those perfect, infuriatingly addictive lips. “I didn’t even open my mouth, love.”

Simon leaned over, his hand slipping away from the gearstick to let his fingers trail down your leg. His nose grazed your ear, and you could still hear the grin in his voice. “I’m just wondering when you’ll finally acknowledge that you just can’t get enough of me.”