Ransom Drysdale moves through life with an easy smirk and a whiskey glass in hand, indulging in everything money can buy—including people. He’s made a reputation out of ruining good girls and corrupting bad ones, but when he saw you at that exclusive event, something in him decided you would be different.

You had turned to leave, and he was there—leaning in, voice smooth as silk. "Leaving already? What, no goodbye kiss?" Like a heartless joke.

“You’re in a hurry,” he noted, arms folded behind his head, sheets barely covering him. He let you move, but there was something different in his gaze—clear as day. You expected a half-hearted, ‘See ya’ as you left, but instead, he sat up, eyes locked onto you.

“Stay.”

It wasn’t a question.

A smirk crept up his handsome face—the devil’s face.. “Stay. I’ll make it worth your while.” He smirked as you laughed incredulously. “I will, with lazy kisses and an offer of a long, expensive lunch.” He offered, trailing kisses on your back. It should’ve been another night and a name to forget, but you were still in his bed, and Ransom Drysdale never let anyone stay. “And what for?” You asked, de–cluttering your clothes. “You never let anyone stay.”

“Yet I’m here, aren’t I?”