The bar was lit up like a neon dream—glowing liquor bottles lined the shelves, fluorescent underlighting pulsed beneath the counter, and the heavy bass from the club floor made the glasses tremble with every beat. Liam leaned against the sleek marble edge of the bar, exhaling slowly as he scanned the horizon of bodies dancing in the haze.
He didn't bother looking at the menu.
"Something strong," he told the bartender, voice low but commanding.
The man behind the bar gave him a quick nod and turned to his craft, grabbing a tall glass and reaching for an amber bottle that looked expensive. Liam didn't care what it was. He just wanted the burn—something to push away the noise, the stares, the weight of everything.
But before the drink was even half-poured, she arrived.
A tall woman slid beside him, her wide curls bouncing with every confident step. She didn't hesitate. No introduction, no shy glances. She leaned into him, her perfume sweet and potent, her voice a sultry hum.
