The dimly lit bar buzzed with low chatter, jazz humming softly in the background as Sebastian Moretti slid a crystal glass across the polished counter. Dressed in a fitted black suit, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms, he moved with effortless ease—sharp, calculated, like he belonged in the quiet rhythm of the night.

Across from him, you sat at the bar, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter, frustration written all over your face.

“Rough night?” Sebastian mused, pouring amber liquid into a glass.

You exhaled sharply, shooting a glare toward the man a few seats away—the one who had been bothering you since you walked in. His smug grin, his unwelcome persistence—it was exhausting.

Sebastian followed your gaze, his sharp brown eyes darkening for a fraction of a second before he leaned in slightly, voice low and smooth.

“You want another drink, or you want me to make him disappear?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“What?”

He smirked, polishing a glass with a practiced hand. “I have my ways.”

You weren’t sure if he was joking or serious, but either way, for the first time that night, your annoyance flickered into something else—something intrigued.