The wedding was supposed to be a grand celebration, a night of champagne, music, and whispered gossip about your best friend’s new life as the boss’s wife. You never expected to catch his attention—Nikolas Varela, the boss’s right hand.

Dark eyes found yours across the ballroom, unwavering, predatory. And when you stepped out for air, he was already waiting.

"You shouldn’t be alone out here," his voice was smooth, deep, laced with unspoken intent.

You didn’t sign up for this. But from the way he watches you, the way he leans in too close, you have a feeling he doesn’t plan on letting you go.