Sophie's POV
The stranger's drink arrived—whiskey, neat—and he stared at it like it held answers to questions he wasn't ready to ask.
So what's your story? I asked, the alcohol making me bold. Someone break your heart too?
His laugh was bitter. Something like that.
Want to talk about it?
Not particularly. He took a long drink. Want to talk about yours?
Not even a little bit.
We sat in silence for a moment, two broken people in a hotel bar at ten o'clock on a Friday night. The bartender wiped down glasses at the other end, pretending not to listen.
No names, the stranger said suddenly. No personal details. Just... tonight. Whatever tonight needs to be.
I should have said no. Should have gone home, called Rachel, cried like a normal person. Instead, I heard myself say, Deal.
His shoulders relaxed slightly. You go first. What brings you to a hotel bar looking like someone died?
My fiancé was sleeping with my best friend. The words came out easier than I expected. For fourteen months. I caught them tonight at our engagement party. My own mother took his side because his family has money.
The stranger's jaw tightened. Your mother chose money over you?
Apparently I'm being dramatic. I finished my martini and signaled for another. What about you? Who destroyed you?
He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then: My business partner and my fiancée. They sold my company secrets while sleeping together. Nearly destroyed everything I built.
Did you see it coming?
I thought she loved me. His voice was hollow. Turns out she loved my money more. And my best friend loved it too.
I turned to look at him fully for the first time. He was handsome in a way that probably stopped traffic—sharp features, dark hair, those incredible silver-gray eyes. But it was the pain in those eyes that made my chest ache. He looked as shattered as I felt.
We're quite the pair, I said softly.
Survivors of betrayal. He raised his glass. To trusting the wrong people.
And learning to never trust anyone again, I added.
Our glasses clinked, and something passed between us—recognition. Understanding. The kind of connection you only find with someone who's been through the same hell.
Can I ask you something? I said after my fifth martini arrived.
As long as it's not my name or occupation.
Do you think we deserved it? The question had been eating at me since the coat room. Like, were we too stupid to see the truth?
His eyes softened. Being trusting isn't the same as being stupid.
Then why do I feel so idiotic?
Because they made you doubt yourself. That's what manipulators do—they make you think their betrayal is your fault. He leaned closer, and I caught his scent: expensive cologne and whiskey. You're not stupid for believing someone you loved.
Tears burned behind my eyes. How do you know?
Because I keep telling myself the same thing. His voice dropped. And some days I almost believe it.
We talked for hours. About everything except who we really were. He told me about building something from nothing, only to watch people try to tear it down. I told him about working three jobs through college, believing hard work mattered, only to have it all destroyed by one man's lies.
You fought for what you have, he said. That takes strength.
So did you.
We're both fighters, then. His smile was sad. Maybe that's why we're still here, instead of giving up.
Or maybe we're just too stubborn to quit.
I'll drink to that.
The bartender announced last call. I blinked at my phone—it was past one in the morning. Hours had disappeared while talking to this stranger who somehow understood me better than people I'd known for years.
I should go, I said, not moving.
You should, he agreed, also not moving.
We stared at each other. The air between us felt electric, charged with everything we weren't saying.
I don't want tonight to end, I admitted. Tomorrow I have to face reality. Figure out where I'm going to live since I can't go back to the apartment I shared with Marcus. Deal with the fact that everyone I loved chose someone else over me. But tonight... tonight I just want to forget.
Something flickered in his eyes. What are you asking for?
My heart pounded. I don't know. What are you offering?
He stood up slowly, extending his hand. One night. No names. No consequences. No expectations. Just two people who need to forget the world exists for a few hours.
I knew this was reckless. Dangerous. Completely unlike responsible, careful Sophie who always made smart choices and followed the rules.
But responsible Sophie had gotten me engaged to a cheater and best friends with a liar. Maybe it was time to be someone else.
I took his hand.
His fingers closed around mine, warm and strong, and I felt something shift in my chest. This was really happening. I was going upstairs with a stranger whose name I didn't know, whose face I'd probably never see again after tonight.
And I didn't care.
He paid both our tabs and led me toward the elevators. My hand stayed in his, and neither of us spoke. Words felt unnecessary now.
The elevator doors opened. We stepped inside. He pressed a button for one of the top floors—penthouse level, I noticed distantly.
Last chance to change your mind, he said quietly.
I should have walked away. Should have been smart, careful, responsible Sophie.
Instead, I pulled him down and kissed him.
He froze for half a second, then kissed me back like he'd been drowning and I was air. His hands cupped my face, gentle but desperate, and I felt tears slip down my cheeks because this—this raw, honest connection—was more real than anything Marcus had given me in five years.
The elevator dinged. We broke apart, both breathing hard.
Still sure? he asked, his forehead pressed against mine.
Absolutely not, I whispered. But I'm doing it anyway.
His smile was the saddest, most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Good. Because I don't think I could let you walk away now even if you wanted to.
We stumbled down the hallway to his suite, kissing between steps, both of us holding onto each other like we were each other's life rafts in a storm.
He fumbled with the keycard. The door swung open onto a massive suite with floor-to-ceiling windows showing the Manhattan skyline.
But I barely noticed the view. I only had eyes for him—this stranger who saw my pain and matched it with his own.
No regrets? he asked one more time.
Not tonight, I promised. Tonight we forget everything except this.
He pulled me inside and the door clicked shut behind us, closing out the world and everyone who'd hurt us.
For tonight, it was just two broken people choosing to be reckless together.
For tonight, I wasn't the girl whose fiancé cheated and whose mother chose money over her daughter.
I was just Sophie, choosing something—someone—for myself.
And as his lips found mine again and we stumbled toward the bedroom, I had no idea that this one night of forgetting would become the most important night of my entire life.
No idea that in three weeks, I'd walk into a boardroom and see those silver-gray eyes again.
No idea that the stranger currently threading his fingers through my hair would turn out to be Damien Ross—billionaire CEO and Manhattan's most powerful man.
No idea that by morning, I'd be carrying a secret that would change everything.
But tonight, in this moment, with his hands gentle on my face and his whispered words making promises neither of us could keep, I didn't care about tomorrow.
Tonight, I just wanted to forget.
And he was very, very good at helping me do exactly that.