His body went rigid. So did mine. 

But his lips were soft. Shockingly soft. And for a second, neither of us moved. 

And then… I didn’t want to move. 

Cassian is probably screwing Alessia right now, I reminded myself. So why couldn’t I have a little fun of my own? 

My arms slid around the stranger’s neck as if they belonged there. His hesitation dissolved like smoke, and then he was kissing me back—fierce, hungry, like he wanted to devour every last piece of me. 

I didn’t even realize he’d lifted me until I felt my legs swinging in the air. His lips never left mine as he carried me out—toward his car, I assumed. His breath brushed against my ear, deep and dangerous. 

“Don’t regret this tomorrow, Isadora,” he murmured. “You chose to mess with me this time.” 

Even through the liquor haze, I knew we were headed for something intense. Something I couldn’t undo. 

That night was a blur of heat and tangled sheets. 

He was built like sin—hard muscle, commanding hands, a mouth that ruined me in the best possible way. 

We didn’t stop. Not until I was too exhausted to breathe, let alone move. 

… 

I woke up in a hotel room the next morning, my head pounding and mouth dry. The curtains were drawn tight, casting the whole place in shadows. 

I slipped out of bed carefully, pulling my torn dress back over my sore body. I hadn’t even seen his face clearly. 

Didn’t want to. This would be just a one night stand, that’s all. 

I just needed to get out. 

By the time I flagged down a cab, I finally caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror. 

My dress was wrecked. And my neck was a battlefield of bruised lips and bite marks. 

Perfect. 

I needed to get home and scrub the evidence off before my father, mother, or Damian saw me like this. 

But as I reached the front door, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway. 

“Where have you been all night, Izzy?” 

I froze. Shit. Cassian. 

Only my brother called me Izzy. Cassian used to, once, when I liked him too much to allow him to call me like that. 

Now it just made my skin crawl. 

He leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, casual as hell. His gaze slid over me—and then locked on my neck. 

“Just stayed at a friend’s house,” I replied coolly, stepping past him. 

“Don’t lie, Izzy,” he said, eyes narrowing. 

“I didn’t lie.” I could feel my patience cracking.