No

I didn't come here to flirt.

I came here for a drink.

A simple whiskey, nothing fancy, just something to unwind after another exhausting day of people screaming in my face about responsibility and commitment and how I was single-handedly ruining my career.

But, of course, I barely had time to take my first sip before two women appeared on either side of me, like clockwork.

They weren't bad looking, but they weren't exactly stunning either. The blonde was wearing a dress a little too tight for comfort, her lipstick perfectly lined in a way that told me she had been hoping to run into someone like me tonight.

The brunette had a more casual look—ripped jeans, a crop top, and an easygoing smile that practically screamed fun for one night, but don't call me tomorrow.

Both of them had their eyes locked onto me, waiting.

I sighed internally.

Too easy.

"Freya Vesper," the blonde purred, tilting her head. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

I leaned back against the bar, rolling the glass between my fingers. "You were expecting someone else?"

The brunette smirked. "No, just didn't peg you for this place. Too many suits. Too uptight."

I took a slow sip of my drink, my gaze flicking across the room. She wasn't wrong. This bar catered to a more polished crowd—wealthy socialites, business moguls, people who didn't blink at overpriced cocktails or private lounges.

"I like to keep people guessing," I said, flashing them a lazy grin.

The blonde giggled. "Mmm, I like that."

I knew she did.

The conversation played out exactly how I expected. A few compliments thrown my way, a little giggling, the occasional hand brushing my arm. It was a game I had played a thousand times before, and honestly? It bored me.

"Tell me something, Freya," the brunette said, leaning in. "Do you ever get tired of the attention?"

I smirked, taking another sip. "Not when it's interesting."

She laughed, tilting her head. "And are we interesting?"

I glanced between them. Their smiles were too eager, their eyes too hungry. They wanted the idea of me more than me. Not that I minded—I wasn't exactly looking for deep conversations and romance. But sometimes, it was just… too easy.

I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling. "I'll let you know when I decide."

That earned another round of laughter, but I was already losing interest.

Casually, I let my gaze drift across the bar, scanning the crowd for anything—or anyone—more entertaining.

Wealth. Elegance. Predictable excess.

And then—

My gaze landed on her.

At first, I noticed Elena Steele—beautiful as always, draped in effortless charm. But she was married, untouchable, a non-option.

The woman sitting beside her, though?

Oh.

I had never seen her before.

And I would have definitely remembered her.

Golden-brown hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the dim light like silk.

Her striking green eyes were sharp, almost unreadable, like she was analyzing everything around her. There was something effortlessly poised about her, a confidence that wasn't loud, but commanding.

And God, she was beautiful.

No—more than beautiful.

She was in a simple dress, nothing flashy, nothing designed to scream for attention. But somehow, she was the most captivating woman in the room.

Everything about her was understated but devastating—her elegance, her presence, the way she sat with perfect posture, completely unimpressed by her surroundings.

She looked like she belonged here. Like she belonged everywhere.

I hadn't even realized I was done with the conversation until I set my drink down, barely giving the two women beside me a parting glance before heading to the bar for another one.

"Not interested?" the blonde called, pouting.

I glanced back over my shoulder, giving them a smirk. "Not anymore."

I didn't wait for their response.

Glass in hand, I made my way across the bar, weaving through the crowd with the kind of confidence that had always come naturally to me.

I had no idea who she was.

But I was about to find out.

Up close, she was even more stunning.

Her skin was flawless, glowing with just the right amount of warmth, and those damn green eyes—sharp and assessing, like she had already sized me up and found me lacking.

Good.

I liked a challenge.

I leaned against the bar beside her, flashing a lazy, practiced grin.

"Hey," I said smoothly. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She didn't even hesitate.

"No."

I blinked.

For the first time that night, I was actually thrown off.

Not a pause. Not a maybe. Not even a polite Oh, I'm good, thanks.

Just No.

I tilted my head, studying her. "That was fast."

She finally looked at me, and—Jesus Christ—her eyes were even more intense up close.

"I don't need a drink," she said simply.

I smirked, swirling my whiskey in my glass. "Everyone needs a drink."

She raised a brow, expression cool. "Not me."

God, she was unbelievably attractive.

And she wasn't playing the game.

That made me want to play harder.

I let my gaze drag over her, slow and deliberate. "You don't seem like you're having much fun."

She shrugged. "That's because I'm not."

Blunt. To the point. Unshakable.

Now I was really interested.

I leaned in slightly, enough to test her reaction. "Let me guess. You got dragged here."

Her lips twitched slightly. "You could say that."

I grinned. "Let me guess again—you'd rather be at home, alone"

She did smirk at that, but it was fleeting. "Something like that."

I exhaled, setting my drink down. "Tragic."

She raised a brow. "What is?"

I gestured to her. "A woman like you, sitting here, completely unimpressed by the world. It's almost criminal."

She exhaled slowly, as if debating whether I was worth entertaining. "Maybe I just don't find shallow distractions interesting."

I laughed. Oh, she's good.

"Elena," she called, ignoring me completely as she turned back to her friend. "We're leaving soon, right?"

Elena, who had been watching this entire interaction with way too much amusement, hummed. "Depends. Are we leaving soon?"

The woman beside her gave a slow, tired sigh.

I grinned. "Am I that unbearable already?"

She finally turned back to me, and for the first time, there was something else behind her gaze—something like mild intrigue, barely there but present.

"Not unbearable," she admitted.

I leaned in just a fraction more. "Does that mean I get a name?"

She tilted her head slightly, looking me over. "No."

And then she turned away again.

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head.

Oh, I like her.