Trapping the Golden Boy

To get back at my half-sister, Piper, I hooked up with Rhysthe untouchable campus golden boy she had been obsessing over for years.

I let him taste every intoxicating drop of falling in love, and then I dumped him without a single ounce of hesitation.

Years later, his face flashed across my screen during a high-profile legal interview.

"Word on the street is that the ruthless Attorney Rhys had quite the whirlwind romance back in the day. Rumor has it you almost dropped out of law school for her?" the host pried.

Rhys gave a dismissive half-smile.

"I was a kid. Young, dumb, and naive."

But when we finally crossed paths again, that icy composure shattered.

He slammed me hard against the wall, knocking the breath right out of my lungs.

He shoved a crumpled document in my facemy hospital ER records for a sleeping pill overdose.

His free hand clamped down on my jaw, his long fingers digging deep into my skin as he forced me to look at him.

His chest heaved, his breathing harsh and ragged against my lips.

"Ms. Maeve." His voice was a dangerous, jagged rasp. "What the hell is this?"

My gaze dropped.

I let my eyes slowly trace the shiny wedding band sitting perfectly on his ring finger.

I pulled my lips into a mocking smirk, staring right back into his burning eyes.

"I was a kid. Young, dumb, and naive."

Chapter 1

After all these years since our brutal breakup, I never expected to run into Rhys like this. Lately, the internet had been tearing me apart. As a C-list actress struggling to stay relevant, my agency was ready to throw in the towel and let the PR nightmare blow over. But my manager, Tessa, stubbornly insisted on hiring a lawyer to sue for defamation.

Today was the day we were supposed to meet the legal counsel at a local caf. Rhys sat there, oozing an untouchable, arrogant calm. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to spin on my heel and walk right back out the door.

Tessa rushed through a brief introduction and slid a thick stack of papers across the table. "This is our current situation. I put all the files together."

Rhys flipped through the pages one by one. His eyes scanned the text meticulously, pausing at the worst parts. I knew exactly what was in that folder. Screenshots of vile online hate.

Claims about my father being a convicted felon, rumors of me working as a club girl, sleeping with sugar daddies, throwing diva tantrums on set I sat there, my nails digging into my palms, feeling like I was sitting on a bed of nails.

"So, is all of this true?" His voice was cold, cutting through the silence.

Tessa froze for a second. "Of course not"

Rhys let out a dry, harsh laugh.

"Look, whatever the truth is, it's not exactly what's written there," Tessa scrambled to defend me. "If you don't want to take the case, fine. We'll find someone else."

Rhys's piercing gaze flicked to me. "With your pathetic budget, do you honestly think you can afford anyone better than me?"

He straightened the papers and gestured to his assistant, Cora. She immediately handed over a tablet. Tessa stared at the screen, her mouth snapping shut as she took in the dense, meticulous legal annotations he had already made.

Making senior partner at a top-tier firm at his age meant he was pulling in millions in revenue every year. Tessa couldn't wrap her head around why a shark like him would even glance at our small-fry cash. Neither could I.

After all, our breakup hadn't exactly been a peaceful goodbye. It was a bloodbath.

Not long ago, I saw an interview of his online. His face was a mask of cold perfection, dodging the host's questions with a slick ease that put seasoned actors like me to shame.

"Word on the street is that the ruthless Attorney Rhys had quite the whirlwind romance back in the day. Rumor has it you almost dropped out of law school for her?"

Rhys gave a dismissive half-smile. "I was a kid. Young, dumb, and naive. Don't follow my example."

After wrapping up the meeting, Tessa went to settle the bill. I escaped to the restroom. Severe menstrual cramps triggered vicious stomach spasms. Cold sweat slid down my temples.

I had been gritting my teeth through the pain earlier, but now, staring into the mirror, my face was ashen. I smoothed out my clothes and pushed the restroom door open. When I saw the man leaning against the wall, casually flicking a silver lighter, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.

Rhys was as devastatingly handsome as ever. His emotionless eyes were hidden behind sleek, silver-rimmed glasses, giving him a terrifyingly unapproachable aura. Dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored four-piece suit with an expensive overcoat draped over his arm, he looked every bit the ruthless legal elite.

But the words that came out of his mouth were anything but refined. They were downright vicious. "Look at what you've done to yourself." He sneered. "Leaving me really did wonders for your life, huh?"

"Just barely scraping by," I shot back, keeping my voice flat.

Rhys's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking under his skin. I knew that tell well. It was the calm before the storm. He was about to snap.

"If that's all, I'll be"

"What is this?" Rhys gripped a piece of paper, his knuckles turning white.

Even with my contacts in, I didn't need to squint to read the bold black text. It was my old hospital ER record. Overdose on sleeping pills. The exact medical documentation proving my history of severe clinical depression.

Chapter 2

Tessa had dug up every little detail she could think of, terrified of missing something that might actually help. We were fighting both a legal battle and a PR nightmare; getting a professional's take was a no-brainer.

When I didn't answer, Rhys stepped closer, his tall frame blocking out the overhead light. "I'm asking you. What is this?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but my eyes snagged on the thick silver band resting on his left ring finger. A sharp pain stabbed behind my eyes. I could have sworn his hand was bare just a second ago.

I pulled my lips into a slow, mocking smile, throwing his own words right back at him. "I was a kid. Young, dumb, and naive."

Rhys went rigid. The muscle in his jaw ticked, a dark, stormy fury brewing in his eyes.

Tessa jogged over, totally oblivious to the suffocating tension. "Rhys"

"Fine," Rhys cut her off. He spun on his heel and strode away. Tessas greeting died in her throat.

"He's gorgeous, but what is up with that temper?" Tessa muttered, staring at his retreating back. "He acts just like those absolute diva actors we deal with, totally unpredictable!"

"You think so?" I murmured.

"Oh, definitely" Before she could finish, Rhys's assistant, Cora, spotted us and hurried over. "Mr. Rhys asked me to bring this to you, Ms. Maeve. It's freezing out today. Stay warm."

A sudden heat spread through my palms. I stared down at the steaming hot Americano and the two pills of ibuprofen she pressed into my hands, completely stunned.

Tessa blinked, doing a rapid 180. "Never mind! I take it back. I totally misjudged him." Mr. Rhys was clearly a saint!

I let out a shaky breath, blinking hard against the sudden, sharp sting in my eyes.

Tessa studied my face for a long second before her eyes went wide. "Maeve, did you two know each other before this?"

We did a lot more than just know each other. But it didn't matter anymore. He was married.

Eight years ago.

"Hey handsome, can I get your number?" That was me, eight years ago. Rocking heavy smokey eyeliner and a faux fur jacket, acting like a total street-smart badass.

The female cop sitting across from me slammed her pen on the desk, scowling. "Watch your tone. You're in a police station."

"Come on, Officer," I drawled, leaning heavily against the counter. "We're not exactly pulling in prime husband material like you. We gotta hustle in the dating market. Give a girl a break, will you?"

My sheer audacity shut her up instantly. She just glared, completely at a loss for words.

The gorgeous guy sitting on the bench finally looked up. He shot me an icy, unamused glare before dropping his gaze right back to his phone.

A massive brawl had broken out at my bar earlier that night. Some drunk idiots started throwing punches, and somebody called the cops. A few of my bouncers got dragged into the mess, so I had to come down to the precinct to pay their bail.

The second I walked through the doors, my eyes had locked onto him. He was wearing a simple athletic zip-up jacket, the collar pulled all the way up to his sharp jawline. He had this healthy, lightly tanned skin, and even with half his face covered, the strong, straight bridge of his nose was striking.

He was perched on a miserable, uncomfortable plastic chair that left his ridiculously long legs awkwardly stretched out. He looked impeccably clean and devastatingly handsome, radiating this untouchable, freezing aloofness. I didn't even have to hunt for a target; he was handed right to me on a silver platter.

He completely ignored me, but I wasn't about to back down. In my line of work, you needed a bulletproof layer of thick skin.

I slid onto the empty plastic seat right next to him. "Hanging out in a precinct at this hour? You get busted, or did one of your buddies do something stupid? Talk to me. I own this block. I can pull some strings for you"

"Ms. Maeve!" the cop snapped, losing her patience.

I waved her off without looking. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you"

"You're so loud."

"Huh?"

Rhys pulled one earbud out and pinned me with a glacial stare. "You're obnoxiously loud. Do you want something?"

"I'm not being loud," I shot back, instantly defensive. "I'm just"

I didn't get to finish my sentence. The precinct doors swung open, and my released guys spilled into the lobby.

"Boss Maeve! You are an absolute lifesaver!" one of them yelled, rushing over. "Making you come down here this late we're total trash for this! Hey, who's the guy"

Tucker, one of my heavy-hitters, stopped dead in his tracks. The words choked off in his throat the second he got a clear look at Rhys's face.

Behind him, Miles froze solid, his hand shooting out to grip my left arm in a panic.

Chapter 3

"What are you doing?" I snapped.

Miles dragged me backward. "There's an emergency at the club. We need to bounce, boss."

"I haven't even gotten his number yet"

Tucker clamped onto my right arm, spewing nonsense. "Maeve, all good things must come to an end. We've got a massive mess waiting at the bar. I'll get his digits for you later, I swear"

The female cop narrowed her eyes. "What kind of mess?"

"A perfectly legal, tax-paying mess, Officer," Miles guaranteed instantly.

I genuinely had no idea what they were talking about. Bailing these two idiots out was the only crisis on my agenda tonight. But Tucker and Miles were blinking at me so hard they looked like they were having seizures.

They practically had we need to talk but not in front of the cops stamped across their foreheads. I jerked my arms free and stood up, smoothing down my faux fur jacket. Whatever. He wasn't going to vanish off the face of the earth. I had time.

"Fine, I'm coming." I threw one last, regretful look at Rhys. "Later, handsome. We'll definitely be seeing each other again."

The second we slammed the car doors shut, Miles spun around from the passenger seat. "Boss, are you actually trying to get us killed?"

I kicked my boots up in the back seat, completely unbothered. "What's your problem?"

Tucker fired up the engine of my sports car. "You know Deputy Commissioner Rhys, right? The guy who busted those massive cartel rings last year? The literal golden boy of the city's justice system?"

"He got promoted," Miles corrected, his voice tight. "It's Commissioner Rhys now."

"Right. The point is, he's untouchable."

Obviously, I knew that.

"And your point is?" I raised an eyebrow.

"We ran into that pretty boy at the precinct last time," Miles explained rapidly. "Thought he had the look. Figured if we could recruit him to tend bar and pour drinks, maybe the club wouldn't be bleeding so much cash."

"Then we heard a lieutenant call him 'Rhys,'" Tucker chimed in, gripping the steering wheel.

"So we asked around," Miles swallowed hard. "He's the Commissioner's precious son. Top of his class at the ivy-league law school."

"I know," I said flatly.

Miles stared at me like I had grown a second head. "Huh?"

"I said, I know. I know exactly who Rhys is."

The first time I ever heard the name Rhys was a few weeks ago, on the anniversary of my mother's death. It was late October. A cold, miserable rain was slicing through the air. I went to the cemetery to leave flowers at her grave. Standing in front of that small, weathered headstone, mine was the only bouquet there.

When I dragged myself back to the house, I walked in on Charles and the woman he had moved in less than two months after my mom died. They had just gotten back from a massive shopping spree with their daughter. A perfect, happy little family.

It had only been four years since Mom passed, and the man she had loved her entire life had already scrubbed every trace of her from his memory. Then again, he had been cheating on her for years anyway. This precious little half-sister of mine? She was barely a year younger than me. The math was sickening.

I stared at them, my blood turning to ice. I marched straight past Charles, my shoulder slamming hard into Piper, sending her ridiculous designer shopping bags spilling across the hardwood floor. I shot him a deadly glare. "Do you even remember what day it is?"

Before Charles could stammer out an excuse, Piper practically hissed at me, her eyes flaring with pure defiance. "Watch your tone. He's your father."

"He's my father. Does that mean you're going to drop to your knees and call me your big sister?" I ripped a vicious, razor-sharp smirk across my face. "Too bad. My family tree doesn't have any branches left for parasites. You're not worth the dirt on my shoes."

Piper's face flushed a deep, blotchy red. "You bitch"

I didn't stick around to watch the three of them choke on their own fury. I turned my back on them and walked straight to my old bedroom. The door was usually deadbolted shut. I only ever came back to this hellhole twice a year. Once for Mom's anniversary, and once for the holidays.

Chapter 4

I slept fitfully for a long time.

In the middle of the night, I went downstairs for a glass of water and saw Piper stumbling through the front door.

The Ivy League princess was blackout drunk, collapsing onto the living room sofa in a heap of designer clothes.

Brenda rushed down the stairs, fussing over her and mixing some hangover cure, while I stood in the shadows, watching with dead eyes.

As I walked past the living room, I heard her slurring a single name over and over.

"Rhys Rhys."

My biggest strength is that I'm methodical.

I never go to war without doing my homework.

Before I made my move, I had Tucker run a full background check on Rhys's daily routine.

Tucker was practically shaking when I gave the order.

"Boss, his dad is the literal Police Commissioner. This is a terrible idea."

I picked at my rhinestone acrylics.

"What's the problem? I just want to hook up with him. Is the NYPD policing my love life now? Do they want to plan my retirement, too?"

"But"

I shot him a deadly glare.

"But what? Are you doing it or not?"

Tucker crumbled instantly.

"I'm on it. Consider it done."

It didn't take long to get his entire schedule handed to me on a silver platter.

Rhys. Junior at a top-tier law school. Into motorcycles, reading, and pickup basketball. Currently interning at a cutthroat corporate law firm in the city. The only reason he was at the precinct that night was to meet a client for work.

I went on the offensive, ambushing him everywhere he went.

Like outside his campus gates.

I leaned against my Porsche, twirling my keys with a flirty smile.

"Hey, handsome."

Rhys gave me a glacial stare and kept walking.

Like the coffee shop near his firm.

"Morning, gorgeous."

Outside the library.

"Hey, Counselor."

Even outside his dorm building.

"Rhys!"

This time, he didn't even look at me.

He just brushed past me like I didn't exist.

Finally, when I was casually leaning against the wall outside the men's room playing on my phone, Rhys snapped.

He suddenly clamped his large hand around my wrist, dragging me roughly into the dimly lit stairwell.

His massive frame pressed me hard against the wall, radiating a suffocating, dominating pressure that pinned me in place.

The faint smell of mint and clean laundry wrapped around me.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, a muscle ticking violently in his jaw.

"What the hell do you want?" he gritted out.

I tilted my head, leaning in until my lips brushed dangerously close to his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin.

"I want you."

Rhys froze.

His chest brushed against mine, his breathing suddenly harsh and ragged.

The heat radiating off his skin was scorching.

He released his grip on my wrist, his voice dropping to a dangerous, jagged rasp.

"You're asking for too much."

I rubbed my throbbing wrist, shooting him a wicked smirk.

"Come on, Rhys. Just accept my friend request."

He stepped back, instantly putting his cold mask back on.

"Stop following me."

"Add me, and I'll disappear."

"And then what?"

"Then we chat. A little digital flirtation to get to know each other."

He looked me up and down.

I had actually dressed down today since I was on a college campus.

I was only wearing a light pink faux fur jacket.

Rhys's eyes were like ice.

"We run in different worlds."

I clicked my tongue.

"Don't be so dramatic. You don't even know me. How do you know we aren't a perfect match?"

Rhys sneered, looking entirely unamused.

"I don't do tacky."

"Tacky? Did that guy seriously just call me tacky?"

Tucker flinched, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Boss, chill out. There are plenty of other guys out there"

"That's the first time anyone has ever called me tacky."

I slammed my shot glass onto the bar, resting my chin on my hand with a wicked grin.

"He's so different. I love it."

Tucker shot Miles a look of pure despair.

They both looked like they wanted to plan my funeral.

Miles sighed, wiping down the counter.

"Boss, you can't really blame him. What twenty-one-year-old girl walks around in a mob-wife fur coat every single day?"

My smile slipped.

I grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured another round, the amber liquid burning my throat.

"You said it yourself. I'm only twenty-one. If I don't dress like a killer, how the hell am I supposed to run this place?"

Chapter 5

I bombed my college entrance exams at seventeen and never looked back.

At eighteen, I took the inheritance my mom left me and opened Crossline, my own nightclub.

Miles and Tucker both fell dead silent.

I shot them a glare.

"So what do you suggest I wear, then?"

The very next day, I showed up in front of Rhys wearing a soft beige trench coat, straight-leg vintage denim, and minimal makeup.

Rhys almost dropped his AirPods straight onto the pavement.

"What kind of stunt are you pulling now?"

"You don't like it?"

I was feeling insanely confident.

I got my mom's genesdrop-dead gorgeous since day one.

Plus, stripping away the heavy eyeliner took years off my face.

Who knows? Maybe Rhys had a thing for the girl-next-door vibe.

But Rhys jerked his gaze away, his jaw tightening.

"No."

"Are you seriously just going to tell a girl she doesn't look good to her face?"

"I'm sorry, but nothing about your behavior screams 'girl' to me."

I bit my inner lip.

God, his mouth was vicious. I loved it.

"That's fine. Let me buy you dinner anyway."

"Find someone else. I don't have time, and I'm definitely not eating with you."

He turned on his heel, ready to march off.

I immediately chased after him.

"Then accept my friend request. Do that, and I swear I'll never bother you again."

Rhys's face was a mask of pure disbelief.

He didn't budge an inch.

"Not happening."

I grabbed the hem of his jacket.

I gave it a gentle tug, softening my voice to a sweet, whining purr.

"Please?"

Rhys froze, his voice dropping to a glacial chill.

"Don't pout."

He ripped his jacket out of my grip.

"Pouting won't work. Neither will throwing a tantrum."

I thought getting this guy's number was going to be an impossible boss fight.

I never expected him to walk right into my trap.

"Can I get your number?"

I was sitting behind the bar, mindlessly scrolling on my phone.

The second I heard that deep voiceand the actual words coming out of his mouthmy head snapped up.

Rhys was standing right in front of me.

He looked absolutely sick to his stomach, holding his phone out with his QR code glowing on the screen.

My first reaction slipped out before I could stop it.

"Are you off your meds?"

I instantly regretted it, terrified he was going to back out.

The club music was thumping.

Rhys leaned in close, the scent of mint washing over me.

He kept his eyes glued to the left, grinding out a harsh whisper through his teeth.

"I lost a bet. Just play along."

I started to turn my head to follow his gaze, but Rhys instantly shifted his body to block me.

"Don't look."

I definitely didn't see this plot twist coming.

A raw, genuine laugh ripped out of my throat.

"I'll add you, but you can't block me the second you walk out of here. Promise me that, and I'll scan it."

Rhys glared at me, a muscle ticking violently in his jaw.

"A bet's a bet."

He actually played by the rules. Perfect.

The neon club lights were dim, but even in the shadows, I could clearly see the dark red flush creeping up the tips of Rhys's ears.

For a guy with such a filthy, vicious mouth, he embarrassed way too easily.

A wicked idea sparked in my brain.

I stood up from my stool and leaned far over the bar, completely erasing the physical space between us.

I lowered my voice, dripping with pure temptation.

"Is a number all you want? Sure you don't want anything else?"

Right as the words left my mouth, Piper crashed into my line of sight.

She had been scanning the crowded dance floor, but the second her eyes locked onto us, she froze dead in her tracks.

A dark thrill rushed through my veins.

Without breaking my posture, I tilted my head and pressed my lips firmly right against Rhys's sharp jawline.

"That's my payment for playing along. I'll just collect it myself."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Piper standing there like she'd been slapped.

Her eyes instantly welled up with angry tears.

And burning just as red as Piper's furious eyes was Rhys's entire face.

Chapter 6

[How do you know Rhys?]

[I'm warning you, stay away from him, or I won't hold back!]

[Oh? And what exactly are you going to do?]

I stared at Piper's chat bubbles, my thumbs flying across the screen.

[You don't even have the guts to tell me to back off your precious crush to my face. Pathetic little coward.]

That night, after a hot shower, I poured myself a glass of red wine and curled up on the sofa.

Watching Piper lose her mind was the perfect entertainment.

I opened my chat with Rhys and shot over a meme.

The message went through perfectly. Good. He hadn't blocked me yet.

I tipped my glass back, swallowing the dark red liquid in one gulp, and started scrolling through his social media feed.

He barely posted anything, but Piper had liked every single one of his updates.

I scoffed, a cynical smirk pulling at my lips, and closed the app.

Rhys hadn't replied, but I fully expected that.

I wasn't about to give up. I fired off another text.

[Ignoring me? Don't tell me you're blushing.]

A second later, he replied with a single period.

[.]

I laughed out loud and sent back a flirty sticker of a kitten blowing a kiss.

The next day, I struck while the iron was hot and ambushed Rhys right outside the campus gates again.

Seeing him about to leave, I swung my car door open and stepped out way too fast.

My stiletto caught on the pavement, and my ankle gave out with a sharp twist.

I hissed, grabbing the car door to catch my balance.

Rhys froze dead in his tracks.

His eyes dropped straight to my ankle. His jaw tightened.

He hesitated for barely two seconds before striding over and grabbing my arm in a solid, unyielding grip to steady me.

"Can you try not to break your own neck?"

I sucked in a sharp breath against the throbbing pain, but I wasn't about to miss a chance to flirt.

"Aw, are you worried about me?"

"You're hopeless," Rhys warned, his grip firm. "Don't drive in stilettos. You're going to kill someone."

"I have flats in the car. I swapped them out right before I stepped out. Figured the extra height makes us look better together."

I batted my eyelashes, leaning into his hold.

"My ankle is busted. I can't drive. You're not just going to leave me here to suffer, are you?"

Rhys let out a heavy sigh.

"Get in. I'm taking you to the ER."

Rhys drove me to the hospital, completely ignoring my burning stare from the passenger seat.

He gritted his teeth and pretended not to hear the ER nurses whispering about what a gorgeous couple we made, then drove me straight to my apartment building.

It was the dead of winter.

Every breath turned into white mist in the freezing air.

He brushed off every single one of my teasing comments, only agreeing to walk me as far as the lobby elevator.

The digital display showed the elevator stuck on the tenth floor.

The air between us was deafeningly quiet.

Rhys finally cracked under my intense staring.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Why are you constantly coming after me?"

I didn't even blink.

"Because I like you."

He looked at me like I was insane.

"You like me? How long have we even known each other?"

I fed him a line with a perfectly straight face.

"Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight? My logic is simple. If you want someone, you let them know. You don't just give up."

I let my voice drop, softening my tone.

"Besides we live in two completely different worlds. If I give up now, I'm terrified I'll miss my chance with you."

I lowered my eyelashes, throwing in just the right amount of vulnerability.

To my absolute shock, Rhys shifted his weight nervously.

He yanked his gaze away, a dark flush creeping up his neck.

A heavy silence swallowed the lobby.

The freezing wind howled outside, slipping through the cracks of the glass doors.

Ding.

The sharp chime of the elevator arriving jolted Rhys out of his daze.

I curved my lips into a sweet, harmless smile.

"You should get going. Thanks for bringing me home. Sorry for ruining your internship schedule today."

Rhys's Adam's apple bobbed hard.

He cleared his throat, his voice dropping an octave.

"It's fine."

Chapter 7

The night the line between us finally started to blur was right at the end of the year, less than a week before New Year's Eve.

I spotted Rhys at Crossline again, this time dragging a few of his friends along.

I was leaning against the bar, talking to Felix.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Rhys staring.

He couldn't take his eyes off me.

I leaned in a little closer to Felix, playing the angle perfectly.

I could practically feel Rhys's gaze burning a hole straight through my dress.

As soon as Felix walked away, Rhys didn't even bother waving down a waiter.

He marched straight up to the bar to order his own drink.

He had ditched his jacket at his booth.

He was wearing a fitted black turtleneck that hugged his chest, making him look devastatingly sharp and untouchable.

He rested his forearms on the counter, his jaw tight.

"They dragged me here."

I narrowed my eyes, playing along.

"Right. They dragged you."

I propped my elbows on the slick mahogany wood, tilting my head.

A slow smile spread across my red lips.

"I saw you walk in with your boys, and I didn't even come over to say hi. Doesn't that make me the perfect, low-maintenance secret? I didn't ruin your vibe at all."

Rhys shifted his weight, his eyes darkening.

He couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Who was that guy?"

"Just a photographer. He was showing me some shots he took of me earlier."

I traced the rim of a glass.

"They turned out amazing. I'll text them to you later."

The rigid tension in Rhys's shoulders instantly melted.

"Oh."

I let out a soft laugh and reached across the counter, letting my fingertips brush lightly against his knuckles.

He flinched, his instinct screaming at him to pull away, but he forced his hand to stay perfectly still under my touch.

His breathing hitched.

The live band on stage was playing some slow, depressing acoustic track.

A wild idea sparked in my brain.

I tapped his hand twice.

"Go back to your table. I'm going to sing something for you."

Rhys grabbed his bourbon and walked back to his booth, completely ignoring the smirks and raised eyebrows from his friends.

I flashed a wicked smile at their table.

The second the acoustic singer stepped off, I hopped onto the stage and grabbed the mic stand.

"Good evening, Crossline!" I yelled into the mic, throwing one hand in the air.

The crowd roared back.

"I'm dedicating this heavy metal track to all of you tonight! Drink up, lose your minds, and have a killer time!"

The drummer slammed the cymbals, and the guitarist shredded a deafening riff.

The bass vibrated through the floorboards.

Crossline wasn't a massive club, and the raw, unhinged energy instantly hijacked the entire room.

The heavy beats mixed perfectly with the cheap alcohol in everyone's veins.

People were screaming, jumping, and grabbing onto each other, pulling strangers in for desperate, messy kisses.

In a room packed with college kids practically drowning in their own hormones, nobody cared about tomorrow.

We just wanted the loud music, the pure chaos, and the wild freedom of the night.

Chapter 8

Under the dim, provocative club lights, I stood on stage in a burgundy angora sweater and a sequined mini skirt that made my stark white skin practically glow in the dark.

My Van Cleef Alhambra bracelet clicked against a stack of Cartier bangles, the rhinestones on my acrylic nails catching every flash of the strobe lights.

I was young, but I had seen enough of the world to know one thing for sureI was absolutely nothing like the boring, predictable girls he was used to.

I was raw, vibrant, and alive.

The entire club was a writhing mass of bodies, but the twenty-year-old law student sitting at the booth was completely frozen in time.

The only thing moving was the dark, predatory desire swirling in his eyes, perfectly matching the chaotic energy of the room.

Exhausted from the set, I hopped off stage and let the acoustic singer take over.

I headed to the restroom to touch up my makeup when my phone buzzed.

It was Felix, bombarding me with photos he had just snapped of my performance.

[You look absolutely stunning. Killer set!]

I sent him a quick sticker, picked the hottest photo of the bunch, and forwarded it straight to Rhys.

Instantly, the sharp ding of a message notification echoed from the quiet hallway right outside the restroom door.

I froze for a second before a wicked smile curled my lips.

I pushed the door open and strolled out, locking eyes with the man leaning against the hallway wall.

He was holding a slim cigarette between his long fingers, the thin veil of smoke doing nothing to hide the heavy, intense way his eyes dragged over my body.

"Ankle feeling better?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

My stilettos clicked against the tile as I closed the distance between us.

I tilted my head back, looking up at him through my lashes.

"Want to check it yourself?"

The thumping bass of the club was muffled through the walls, making this secluded hallway feel dangerously intimate.

For three agonizing seconds, the air between us stretched tight.

The smoke cleared, exposing the raw, unhinged hunger burning in Rhys's dark eyes.

In a flash of movement, he crushed the cigarette into an ashtray.

His large hand clamped around my jaw, tilting my face up as he crashed his lips down onto mine.

His mouth was dry, hot, and tasted faintly of mint and smoke.

He kissed me with a desperate, clumsy aggression, his grip bruisingly tight against my skin.

I pressed my hands lightly against his chest in a mock protest.

"I just fixed my lipstick," I murmured against his mouth. "You owe me a new one."

Rhys's chest heaved, his voice a jagged rasp.

"I'll buy it."

"Winter break dorms are closed," I whispered, my lips brushing his jaw. "Don't tell me a big, bad twenty-one-year-old like you still has a curfew, Rhys?"

He let out a harsh, ragged breath, practically combusting on the spot.

"No."

At first, I had questioned if throwing myself at him just to destroy Piper was really worth it.

But the second we crossed that line, I knew I had hit the jackpot.

My stark pale skin tangled with his healthy tan, a visceral, high-contrast clash of bodies.

When Rhys realized I was just as inexperienced as he was, a flash of shock crossed his faceright before his last shred of control completely snapped.

The heavy blackout curtains plunged my bedroom into pitch darkness.

The air was thick, heavy with heat and slick sweat.

I felt suffocated by the blindness, frantically reaching out until my fingers blindly gripped the heavy fabric of the drapes and yanked them open.

The neon bleed from the city skyline spilled across the mattress, illuminating the veins standing out on the thick arms bracketing my head.

My eyes went wide.

"Rhys, it's snowing! It's" My sentence shattered into a breathless gasp.

Rhys's voice was dark, thick with a dangerous edge.

"I see it," he rasped roughly.

"So white."

Afterward, Rhys pulled me fiercely into his chest, his jaw set with a possessive edge.

He claimed my lips with a demanding, urgent heat, kissing me like a starving wolf that had just tasted fresh blood for the first time.

When he finally let me breathe, I sneaked my phone out and snapped a quick picture of him, fully intending to send it straight to Piper to ruin her life.

Suddenly, a large, warm hand clamped firmly around my ankle.

Rhys had retrieved an ice pack and some anti-inflammatory spray.

He dropped to one knee beside the bed, his wide palm locking my foot in place with a grip that was commanding yet strangely gentle.

His dark eyes were burning with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

"It's a little swollen," he stated, looking up at me through his lashes.

His voice was a harsh, raspy command that left absolutely no room for argument.

"Don't move. I'm icing this for you."

I froze, my heart doing a complicated, messy stutter in my chest.

Chapter 9